Our eyes meet. She doesn’t actually seem worried. More like she’s just looking for confirmation. I nod slowly. “Probably a little one. But Dr. Kainth did a great job, so in a year or two it’ll fade away almost completely, I’m guessing.”
She sighs. “I don’t care really. I gave up being vain somewhere between the second and fourth operation. My body looks like Edward Scissorhands gave me a massage.”
“Four operations?”
“Yup. Not to mention the scars left from the tubes and drains and all that stuff Grey’s Anatomy fails to mention.” She smiles, but it’s quick and dark. “I used to love that show, but since the car crash, I can’t watch any medical show.”
“I can’t either,” I reply. “Not since I was in med school. Terra watches about twenty of them, and if I’m around when she does, I find myself yelling at the TV because they handle every condition completely wrong.”
I have a familiar, unwanted feeling growing in my gut. Not quite guilt but close. Her mentioning the car wreck she was in triggers it just like her mentioning medical bills triggered it at the hospital. I’ve seen too many car crashes and the devastating results, emotionally and financially. I’ve been in one myself, which I can never tell anyone about, but it lives in me – the guilt, pain and anxiety around that day – like an extra organ.
“Terra’s really nice,” Chloe says, bringing my mind back to the present. “You have a big family, huh?”
“Two brothers, Terra and now Nova, who married my oldest brother,” I tell her. “And Jake, who has been an honorary Hawkins since he was like fourteen and now dates Terra. How about you? Any sisters or brothers?”
“Only child,” she explains. “My mom died when I was nineteen and my dad four years later.”
“That’s brutal.” I feel my heart aching for her, and I know my face is a mask of sympathy. No matter what I’ve put them through, my parents have always been my biggest support system and my best friends in a lot of ways. If I lost them when I was as young as Chloe was, I’d never have come out of the tailspin my life was in.
Chloe walks back into the bedroom, and this time I follow her. “I’ve learned to hold onto the good memories. There were a lot. They were good people and great parents.”
She sits on the edge of her bed and glances up at me with another uncertain look on her face. “I want to change the subject and get back to the fact you went to med school, but I’m so damn tired. Can I sleep now?”
“Yes. For an hour,” I say. She’s already started to crawl under the covers, and she groans. “I know that sucks, but it’s the only way to make sure your concussion isn’t getting worse.”
I watch her long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she struggles to stay awake. “What’s your favorite color?”
“What? Why?” she murmurs.
“I need to ask you questions when I wake you to make sure you’re coherent,” I explain and resist the urge to tug up the blankets and tuck her in. She just looks so cute and vulnerable right now.
“Blush.”
“Like pink?”
“Only lighter. Blush.”
“That’s very specific,” I can’t help but comment.
She curls up on her side. “I’m a graphic designer and web designer. It’s all about specifics. I like specifics.”
Her voice is barely a whisper and then her eyelashes stop fluttering as soon as the last word leaves her mouth, and I know she’s out like a light. I walk out of the room, leaving the door wide open and the hall light on, and head downstairs. My phone is on the table with the grocery bag I hastily stuffed with sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt when I was downstairs grabbing Chewie and my bathing suit.
I debate leaving the pups downstairs but worry they’ll fuss, so I bring them upstairs with me. I glance through Chloe’s open bedroom door. She’s fast asleep, curled up on her side. I head into the room next door and leave the door open but put Boss and Stevie on the bed with me so they don’t wander in there and wake her up. My phone goes off, but luckily I had put it on vibrate when I was working at the lobster shack, so it doesn’t make a loud pinging sound. I glance at it and see a text from Cookie as well as a missed call. I cringe. She’s getting pissed. I can’t say I blame her. You ignore your AA sponsor long enough, they will come looking for you.
Logan, bud. Between missing meetings and now dodging calls, I’m worried. You got 24 hrs and then I hunt you down.
I quickly type her back.
I’m good. Fam biz and work. Also finally got my own place. Will call tomorrow. Promise.
I don’t mention I would have answered her call if I wasn’t washing my landlord’s hair, although Cookie would get a hell of a kick out of it if I did. She’d also call me relentlessly until I answered, and I don’t want to chat. My voice might wake Chloe. I sit on the bed, put my phone on the night table, and look around.
The guest room is sparsely furnished with just one night table next to the queen size sleigh bed and a tallboy dresser in the corner. Chewie curls up on the rug by the bed. Stevie and Boss walk around the bed, stepping all over me for a couple minutes before settling. Boss sleeps at my feet and Stevie is up near my elbow. I doze for forty-five minutes until my alarm goes off on my phone.
I get up and walk into Chloe’s room. I sit on the edge of the bed, next to her knees which are tucked up. I brush back some of her hair from her forehead so it doesn’t stick to her wound. God, her hair is soft. I can’t remember the last time I ran my hands through a woman’s hair. It was probably Bethany, and I was probably drunk, which is why I don’t remember it.
“Chloe?” I whisper and move my hand to her shoulder. I give her a gentle little shake.
“Mmm…” she murmurs sweetly.
“I need you to look at me,” I say, and her eyes flutter open. “Do you know who I am?”
“The guy whose shoes I barfed on,” she says, and I smile.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Friday. Unless it’s after midnight then Saturday,” she says sleepily. “Can I sleep again?”
I nod and stand up. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” she whispers back as her eyes close.
I head back into the guest bedroom. I am not trying to snoop, but I can’t help but notice she doesn’t have a lot of personal pictures around. There’s a picture of a couple on her dresser by the door of her room that I think are probably her parents, but that’s it. The guest room across from the one I’m in has a painting of some seagulls over the ocean and a small collection of ceramic fairies on the dresser but nothing more.
When my alarm goes off an hour later, I almost don’t hear it over Chewie’s snoring. I get up and walk back into her room. She’s rolled over and is facing away from me now, curled up the other way. I lean over her and give her the same gentle shake as before.
“Chloe?”
“Jackson?” she murmurs, and I freeze.
“Who?” Her shoulder stiffens under my hand and her breath audibly catches. Her eyes open.
“Sorry,” she says but she doesn’t turn to face me. “Logan Hawkins. Paramedic and tenant extraordinaire. My favorite color is blush. I’m originally from Hawaii. It’s Saturday morning at this point, I’m sure.”
“Who is Jackson?” I ask even though it shouldn’t matter.
“I’m in Ocean Pines, Maine. My birthday is April fifteenth,” she says.
“I can’t verify that. I never asked you when your birthday was,” I tell her. It was on her chart but I didn’t notice.
“Yours is July fourth. You can verify that.”
“You know my birthday?”
She curls up into a tighter ball under the covers. “It was on your rental paperwork and July fourth is hard to forget. It’s like being born on Christmas or Valentine’s Day.”
She’s right there, and then the significance of her birthday dawns on me. “Or Tax Day.”
I see the corner of her mouth move in a sleepy smile and her shoulder relaxes under my grip.
“You get fireworks, I get the IRS.”
I want to ask who Jackson is again, but it’s not medically necessary. I’m being nosy. I start to walk out of the room. “See you in an hour.”
“Mmm…hmm…”
I head back to my room. The dogs haven’t moved and are still snoring. I double check my alarm is set and drift off into a light, not at all restful, sleep.
7
Chloe
I wake up with a very dull, persistent headache and some stiffness in my back from the fall. But as I sit up slowly, I’m thrilled to realize I’m not dizzy, have no double vision, and don’t feel nauseous. In fact, I’m famished. The house is silent except for the sound of some very loud snoring. Logan? Dear God he is cutting logs.
My little clock on the bedside table says it’s quarter to seven. Logan must have woken me up about forty-five minutes ago. I don’t really remember it, but I do remember when he woke me up sometime before that and I whispered Jackson’s name. Ugh. I’m an idiot. I was just so sleepy and out of it.
I throw back the covers, get out of bed, and slip my feet into my slippers. In the hall, the snoring is louder. I can’t help but sneak a peek through the open guest room door. Logan is asleep on his back, one arm thrown up over his head. The sheets are bunched around his hips. He’s in a t-shirt, but it’s gathered up around the middle of his rib cage, leaving his lower torso exposed. The snoring, I realize with a grin, isn’t coming from him. It’s coming from Chewie, who is parked on the throw rug by the side of the bed. And then my smile slips as my mouth falls open. Boss is curled up on the bed by Logan’s feet and Stevie is cuddled up by his pillow.
My dogs are snuggling my tenant. It’s like I don’t even know them. I tip toe across the room and scoop them up. I can’t help but notice some ink on Logan’s exposed left side. Words in a strong, thick script. The only way out is through.
I force myself not to stare at his uncovered skin very long. I already feel a bit like a creeper for coming into the room, but I know Stevie and her ancient bladder can’t wait much longer without a potty break. I don’t have the heart to wake Logan up since, even asleep, he looks exhausted.
After I’ve very carefully taken the dogs outside and almost lost them in the thick piles of snow in the backyard, I make my way into the kitchen. I decide maybe coffee will help the headache, and as it brews, I stare at the contents of my fridge. I’m starving but not sure what my first meal should be. I’m worried eating too much or the wrong thing will make me nauseous again. I wonder if Logan will be hungry. Will he remember the whole Jackson thing? I wonder if he regrets moving in here and if last night will make things permanently awkward between us or if it bonded us and now we’ll be friendlier to each other. My brain is spinning now, which isn’t helping this headache.
As I pour a cup of coffee, there’s a knock on the mostly open barn door that separates the kitchen from the living room. I turn and find him standing there, hair askew, Chewie by his side. Boss runs over and starts sniffing Chewie again while growling a little.
Logan smiles. “He’s literally all bark and no bite.”
I nod, smiling, and raise the coffee pot in his direction. “Cuppa Joe?”
“Yeah. Thanks. Just give me the whole pot,” he says and reaches for it. I laugh but keep it out of his reach as I turn to grab a mug from the vintage hutch where I keep them.
“I have milk in the fridge and sugar is on the island in front of you.”
“Thanks.” He opens the sugar container and glances around the room. “I said it last night, but in case you forgot, you have a great house.”
I smile. “Thanks for admiring my decorating style and for breaking me out of the hospital and making sure I didn’t die.”
“It’s no big deal,” Logan replies and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m confident enough in my masculinity that I can admire good décor openly.”
A burst of laughter escapes my lips. My head throbs more, so I force myself to stifle it, and I wince. He puts his mug on the counter. “Are you okay? That should have been my very first question.”
“Headache,” I admit and let him put a hand under my chin and push my gaze up to meet his. He’s staring at me with intensity, like a diligent paramedic assessing his patient, but it still makes my heartbeat quicken and my blood warm. “No dizziness anymore and no more blurred vision. And I’m ravenous. Can I eat?”
He stops staring into my eyes and his hand drops from my chin. “Yeah. Eat. Also, you can take some ibuprofen for your headache and any soreness you’ve got from the fall. But I would take it easy for the next couple of days. Headaches and dizzy spells can persist for a while.”
I bite back a groan. I can’t afford time off work either when it’s finally picking up thanks to Terra and my friend Mitch, who is talking to his boss about having me design a site for a new campaign at his ad agency.
Logan glances at the clock above the stove. “I should get going. Chewie and I are taking my son tobogganing. First snow ritual.”
I smile and wonder what his kid looks like. I’m betting he’s like Gerber Baby, Jerry McGuire kid, Sprouse Twins pre-Zach-and-Cody level cuteness. “Sounds fun. But be careful. It’s slippery out there.”
He smiles softly. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Do you have a family doctor you could follow up with?”
“I do,” I lie because I think if I tell him I don’t he’ll feel like he’s still responsible for me and I don’t want him to. We have to get back to the proper tenant-landlord relationship. Unfortunately. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay well, I’m with River most of the day, then I’m dropping Chewie at my sister’s because I’m working tonight,” he explains. “Do you have someone you could spend some time with today or tonight? Just so you’re not alone if you do get dizzy or sick again. It can happen.”
“I’ll invite my friend Aspen over,” I say and he seems to relax.
“Aspen Barlowe?” He cocks one of those dark, thick eyebrows.
“Yeah. I know, she used to date Jake. She was the one who sent me to meet Terra for the…” I stop talking. I’m about to fuck up and talk about my secret job.
“The waitressing gig you didn’t get?” Logan finishes for me. “Shit, if Terra knows you’re friends with Aspy that might be why you didn’t get it. Their friendship is…precarious at best.”
I smile and shake my head. “Aspen mentioned that they were rebuilding their friendship, but Terra didn’t factor that in, I swear. The fact that I’ve never waitressed might have been the problem.”
Logan smiles at that and yep, it’s just as breathtaking as I imagined it was when my vision was too blurry to make it out last night. “Are you still interested? Because I can make shit happen. I have clout.”
He puffs out his chest overdramatically and winks at me, and I laugh again. It’s a sound I’ve made more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last year. His perfectly warm and sexy smile deepens for a second before he lifts his coffee mug. I shake my head at his offer as he finishes his last few sips. “I have enough freelance work right now. And I am going to list one of my rooms on a rental site, so hopefully I get income from that.”
He walks over to place his mug in the sink, his smile gone. “You’re renting out a room in this house? Like upstairs, in your part of the house?”
“Yeah. People do it all the time for vacationers,” I say and suddenly get nervous. “Was the bed uncomfortable or the room not adequate?”
“Hell no, it was great,” Logan replies easily and my shoulders relax. “I just…I’m worried about strangers up here with you.”
“That’s sweet, but I’ll be okay,” I say and try not to blush. But his concern is more than flattering. It’s a turn-on. I remind myself he’s a tenant and I need to put him back in that zone. I mean…I don’t have a choice, right? “The original goal was to turn this place into a bed and breakfast and live in the suite you’re in, but well, my injuries and other stuff kind of threw all of that for a loop.
I’m working on getting back on track.”
He nods slowly, but I can tell he’s still not convinced it’s a good idea. And the feeling of flattery gets knocked out by a little skeptical voice that lives in the back of my head that reminds me he’s got a sister. He’s probably thinking of you like he would Terra. That’s all.
“Call me if you need to today, okay?” Logan says as he walks backward toward the door to the kitchen where Chewie waits for him, Boss at his feet.
“Sure,” I say, but I won’t unless I truly feel like I’m dying. I’ve bothered him enough. As if to prove my point, he covers his face with his hand and tries to stifle a yawn. I feel so bad. “I feel like I should give you a rent discount next month for all your help.”
“Nah. Don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for,” he says with an easy shrug.
We’re friends now? I guess he’s right. “It does seem we jumped from the Landlord-Tenant zone to the friend zone. I guess that’s what happens when you shower together.”
We’re in the hall now. He’s slipped on his boots, grabbed his bathing suit from the powder room, and has the door half open but when that last line drops from my lips, he freezes. The only things moving are his perfectly symmetrical lips…upwards into a hell of a sexy grin. “To be honest, Chloe, when I shower with a woman, they’re usually in a zone that’s well past friend. This thing with us…is unique.”
“Most good stories are,” I blurt out and am flabbergasted at myself. Since when do I flirt with anyone, let alone my freaking tenant?
Chewie brushes past my leg and sits directly between myself and Logan, and I look down at him to avoid the sizzling staring contest Logan and I have accidentally started. And then Boss trots over and tries to mount Chewie. I groan and reach for my domineering mutt. Boss wiggles in my arms.
The Winter We Collided: A Small Town Single Dad Romance (Ocean Pines Series Book 2) Page 6