Commander in Briefs (Commander in Briefs Series Book 1)

by Kristy Marie

  Curious, I creep back over, careful not to startle whatever it is. I damn sure don’t want it charging me. Inch after inch, I close in on the mysterious thing and see that the tattered blanket is rising and falling rhythmically, almost like it’s breathing. Holy shit! Did I just find an abandoned baby?

  Worry forgotten, I jerk the threadbare blanket back and reveal… a man. Well, at least I think it’s a man. He’s in the fetal position. His eyes are closed, his body shivering almost violently. Oh, God. His clothes are filthy and littered with holes, his skin sunken to the bone. This man is obviously dehydrated and malnourished.

  A bum. He’s homeless, living out on the street. As much as I want to judge this man and just cover him back up and leave, the doctor in me insists I make sure he’s okay. Bum or not, he’s a human being.

  I reach out, hesitating a moment before I place the back of my hand on his forehead. Fear starts to creep in. What if he’s crazy and lunges at me, or worse, mugs me? Well, it’s not like I brought any money or anything. Just my phone.

  “Please, Lord, watch over me,” I pray before allowing my hand to make contact. The man doesn’t open his eyes, which worries me. His skin is freezing. He may be suffering from hypothermia, especially if he lives out here. It’s been one of our coldest winters in the past five years.

  I shake the man softly.

  “Sir. Sir. Can you open your eyes for me?”

  He doesn’t. I lower to my knees, concerned, and place my fingers to the side of his neck and feel for a pulse. I can barely make out the shallow rhythm.

  Ready to call 911, I unlock my cellphone and tap in the first number when I hear, “I’ll move. Don’t call the police.”

  My eyes go wide in shock. He’s awake, and he thinks I am waking him to move off the property? His eyes blink. One, two, three times, before his eyelids reveal murky mint irises. Beautiful green eyes blaze back at me in confusion. And let me clarify that these are the most magnificent green eyes I have ever witnessed in all my years. They’re gorgeous. I’m staring, my manners going completely out the door as I rake my gaze down this man, taking in his strong jawline that appears even more defined with his cheeks sunken and hollow. Strong angular cheekbones protrude from his face, a dark five o’clock shadow blanketing the lower part of his face, giving him a rugged look. Healthy, this man would totally be on my radar. I would flaunt my ass in front of him until he agreed to go out with me just to get me to stop.

  I’m lost in my fantasy of my new rugged friend, when I realize his green eyes are settled on my hand, still on his head. I pull back on instinct.

  “You’re freezing. I think you are hypothermic,” I explain, hoping he mistakes my blush for windburn.

  He frowns, making a soft noise as he shuffles himself into a seated position.

  “I’m fine.” His voice is raspy, slurred from the cold. He attempts to stand, trying to get away from me. But only groans instead, letting his head rest back against the grass in exhaustion. Definitely hypothermic.

  “You’re not fine,” I admonish, giving him my don’t-argue-with-me look.

  His breathing turns shallow as he starts to drift off to sleep again. Oh shit. “Do not fall asleep!” I shout, startling his beautiful eyes open.

  He pulls his arm over his face, hiding those gorgeous emeralds. “Leave me alone, lady.”

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” I argue, pulling out my phone, finger poised on the nine.

  “No,” he mumbles. “I won’t go.”

  What a stubborn ass.

  “I’m not leaving you here to die.” I mean, really, what kind of person would I be if I just walked away now, doctor or not?

  His eyes narrow to slits. He looks pissed, but that doesn’t bother me. Get in line, dude. Male assholeness is no match for me.

  “Go away,” he repeats, his words slow and muffled.

  Too bad for him I am the bigger stubborn-ass. I roll my eyes, annoyed, and with a resigned huff, I reach for his arm. “Come on, dude. Let me get you warmed up then I promise to let you go so you can die another day.”

  He just stares at me for the longest moment. I keep my hand extended, waiting for him to take hold. When he doesn’t, I latch on to him and pull. Hard. He grunts from the motion but doesn’t move. For a scrawny guy, he sure is heavy.

  “We can do this my way or the hard way. Either way, You. Will. Do. It. Now, come on!”

  He looks at my outstretched hand once more before he clasps it and helps me haul him up. Shit. He’s heavier than I thought. And tall. He must be a least six-two. Suddenly, this rescue mission doesn’t look like such a great idea.

  My newly acquired bum throws his arm over my shoulder and tries to walk, stumbling several times.

  “We’re going to take it slow. Okay?” I think he nods, but I can’t be sure. It’s taking all I have to stay upright myself. But he does start to take small steps, thank goodness. Have I mentioned the smell? It’s not quite a sewer smell, but it reminds me of an attic that had a wet dog living in it for a month or two. Maybe four.

  We’ve developed a rhythm somewhat after a few minutes and while my back is pissed at me for the added weight, I don’t slow down. This man really needs a doctor.

  “What’s your name?” I ask to keep him talking.

  He grunts and I start to think he isn’t going to answer me but then he looks over and with chattering teeth stutters, “C-C-ade.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Cade. I’m Anniston McCallister.”

  He nods his head but doesn’t offer anything else to the conversation.

  I try again. “You know, Cade, you’re pretty cold. It would really make me happy if you would allow me to take you to the hospital.” I give him my please-Theo smile.

  It doesn’t work. He just stares at me with those striking green eyes. “No.”

  Okay. I see how it’s going to be. I blow out a harsh breath, agitated at this butthead and his lack of self-preservation skills. Think, Anniston, think. Where the fuck are you going to take him? Home? Theo will flip his shit if he finds out you brought a strange man into the house, alone.

  But what am I supposed to do? He won’t go to the hospital. Am I supposed to leave him on the porch like a stray dog, with a bowl of food and an old towel? No, he needs help. Theo will just have to deal. And if he kills me, well, then I’ll be dead and Theo won’t have a chance to scream at me. Problem solved.

  “Fine,” I relent. “But when we get to my house, you will allow me to check you over.” When he continues to stare, I add, “I’m a doctor. I can help you.” I give him a hesitant smile. Desperate, I lay it on thick. “Please, let me help you, Cade.”

  He blinks several times like he’s not sure if I am real or not. I guess he decides that he has nothing to lose because he gives me a curt nod.

  After a grueling mile-long walk with multiple stops to rest, we finally arrive at my country plantation. I help Cade up the steps of the front porch and prop him against the side of the house so I can get the door unlocked.

  We stumble through the door awkwardly, Cade lethargic and circling the drain quickly. I need to get his body warmed up pronto. Maneuvering him through the expansive hallways toward the main floor bathroom, I explain, “I need to get you warmed up, okay?”

  He’s not responding and getting heavier by the second. I squeeze us through what seems to be the smallest bathroom door, but actually is wider than a normal doorway. Cade is just so big and trying to pull him through limp like a noodle is a tight fit. Leaving Cade to crumple onto the tiled floor, I start the water in the clawfoot tub.

  I give him a little shake. “Cade. Cade. Open your eyes for me.”

  He does, thank goodness, but his lips are blue. Oh shit. I open the vanity drawers, trying to find some scissors.

  “Can you talk to me, Cade?”

  His eyes droop as he ignores my questions.

  “Don’t close your eyes!” I yell.

  He forces them open with a great effort.

  With scissors
in hand, I explain, “Cade. I have to get you warm. I’m going to cut your clothes off and get you in the tub.” I make the first cut through his shirt as he mumbles something. I’m working at the button on his jeans when he grabs my hand, preventing me from undressing him further.

  “Nnnoooo.”

  I smirk. “I’m not trying to rape you. I’m just trying to get you warmed up. Don’t worry, I’ve seen a small penis before if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  He starts to pass out, falling into my arms. What a shame, I’m sure he would’ve had a good comeback to my quip. Cradling Cade to my chest, I lower him down gently, doing the best I can with dead weight.

  “Come on, Cade. Wake up, buddy.”

  I get his button undone and slide his pants down his thighs, revealing skin that is ashen and blue. Oh fuck, Anniston. You should have taken him to the hospital.

  I leave his boxers on because I am out of time.

  “Cade. Come on, dude. Help me get you in the tub.”

  He groans out something that sounds a lot like just leave me, but I ignore it. I have a rule about people dying on my floor. I keep pulling, and eventually, he becomes more alert and helps me get him over the ledge and into the water, splashing me as his large body hits the water.

  I reach in and lift his head out of the water. Readjusting him is much easier in the water. I keep encouraging him to stay with me as I pilfer through the vanity to find a thermometer. I coax him to place it under his tongue, which he does with some protest. A minute later it beeps with a reading of 93.3. Fuck!

  Think, Anniston, think! This man is going to die in your tub. How the fuck are you going to explain it to the cops? Yes, officer, I picked up this homeless guy, brought him to my home, put him in the tub where he died. Not such a great idea, Ans.

  I get up to dart into the kitchen for something hot when it occurs to me that he may drown if I leave him alone. I shake him once again. “Cade. I need to get you something warm to drink. Can you stay awake for me?”

  He nods. I’m not convinced but I’ll just have to be quick.

  I streak through the house, turning up the heat and grabbing a little space heater I stashed in the closet last spring. A quick peek at Cade confirms his head is above water, his eyes still closed. I’ll take what I can get. I dash into the kitchen, knocking shit over as I go. Plugging in the kettle, I rummage around, finding everything I need.

  The kettle comes to a boil quickly and I take the whole thing, along with a tea bag and cup, into the bathroom. Once I have the heater plugged in, I pour the tea. Yes, in the bathroom. I know it’s gross, but he’s dying and a bum. He’s probably used to this sort of thing.

  Letting the tea steep, I move back to the tub and splash a little water on Cade’s shoulders. His eyes open and I give him a small, pitiful smile. My heart aches for this man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies.

  “Thank you.”

  Shocked that he thanked me, I keep pouring water over his frozen body. “You’re welcome. Can you drink some tea for me?” His lips aren’t as blue anymore. The water is helping.

  He nods slightly. “I think so.”

  I reach for the tea and carefully place it in his hands, but they’re shaking. So instead of letting go of the cup, I wrap my hands around his and help him bring the cup to his mouth. “Small sips, okay? It’s hot.”

  He takes a hesitant sip and hisses.

  “I told you it was hot, dumbass.” Oops. That slipped out quickly. “Sorry. I have a mouth like a sailor. I make it a New Year’s resolution every year to be more ladylike, but as you can tell, it’s still a work in progress.”

  The sight before me is like looking at the sun, bright and beautiful. Cade is smiling at me. Smiling, I tell you!

  “You did tell me. My apologies ma’am.”

  Holy fucking shit! I try not to let my mouth hang open more than it already is. He’s southern, really southern. Ma’am? Only good ole southerners still say ma’am, especially to younger women. Theo doesn’t even say ma’am, and he was born here. I’m excited that he’s talking to me. That’s a good sign.

  “Let’s try again, shall we?” He nods, keeping that gorgeous smile trained on me. He sips again, this time not burning his tongue. “Good job. Can you get the rest down?”

  He coughs but manages a yes. I help him get the rest of the tea down before taking his temperature again. 95.7 and climbing, slowly, but it’s climbing.

  “Your temperature is coming up. I’m going to add more hot water, okay?” He nods. “How bout more tea? Can you drink another cup?”

  His face scrunches up like he’s in pain. Chuckling, I inquire, “Was it that bad?” He shakes his head but I’m sure that’s what he meant. I try to negotiate. “I can add some honey or sugar to it if you promise to stay awake and keep your head up.” I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting for his acceptance. “Deal?”

  “Deal,” he croaks.

  This time I make his tea in the kitchen like a civilized host. When I return, he is splashing the water over his own chest, his color pinker by the minute.

  “You’re looking better already.”

  He looks down at his expansive chest, a scowl on his face. I didn’t notice in my rush to get him warm, but his upper body is riddled with scars. Thick, jagged gashes are literally covering his chest and torso, all healed. They must be a couple years old given the coloring of the scars.

  I clear my throat, diverting my eyes and hand him the teacup. “Can you hold it?”

  He nods and starts to drink while I pour more water over his scarred chest. When he announces he’s done with the tea, I take the cup and grab the thermometer. He groans. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” I thump my chest and mock in my best Tarzan voice, “Me man. Me healed.”

  Cade releases a burst of laughter, its raspy sound comforting like I’ve known it for years. Smiling, I push the thermometer close to his face and he opens his mouth without any more protests. The thermometer reads out 96.9. Good enough.

  I look at Cade, holding his eyes. “I’m going to round you up some clothes.”

  He stares at me without answering immediately. “You don’t have to do that.”

  I smile and caress his cheek with a quick stroke of my palm, nodding to the side of the tub. “There is some soap and shampoo. Wash up.” I leave quickly before he can break my heart more.

  I find Cade some of Theo’s sweats and a shirt to wear. They look similar in size. When I return and set the folded clothes on the counter, the bathroom is hotter than the seventh circle of hell.

  “I sure hope you have warmed up because I am about to melt in here.” Eying a scrubbed Cade, I wink. “All nice and clean?”

  He grins at me and tries hard not to laugh. “Yes, Mom.”

  “Good boy!” I praise and hand him a towel. “Here are some clothes for you. I’ll wait outside the door.” He nods as I pull the door closed behind me and consider the guest bedroom down the hall.

  Pushing aside the memory of my father, the pain that haunts my childhood memories, I realize why I felt so compelled to offer compassion to Cade. It wasn’t because of my ethical duty as a doctor. It’s because—I can’t even finish the thought, the memory still raw. Deep down, I understand the reason behind my actions but still, I can’t believe I am about to tuck a stray bum in my guest bedroom. I’ve officially lost it.

  In the spare, I check the sheets and pull on an electric blanket. Being that it’s an old house, there is a fireplace in every room. I converted them to gas a couple years ago because I am not a wood-chopping girl. I flip the switch and enjoy the roar of the fire.

  Satisfied that Cade will be comfortable, I make my way back to the bathroom. The door is still closed so I give it a couple raps just to check on him. “Are you alright?”

  It opens slowly, Cade standing there awkward and a little shaky. I wedge my body up against his like before. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

  At the doorway, his tired eyes take in the room languidly. I push him to the bed a
nd pulling the blankets back, encourage him to lie down. He complies slowly, his freshly washed body stretching out to fill the full-size bed, his eyes already drifting closed.

  “Not so fast, Gorgeous.” I reveal the thermometer in my hand. Cade grimaces but opens wide.

  His body temperature has dropped a little. I frown and pull the blankets over him.

  “I’m going to get you another blanket. Your temp is dropping some.”

  “This is more than enough. Thank you.” He stills my hand from fussing with the blanket, his face haggard, cheeks red from the elements.

  I pat his hand before standing. “One more.”

  He sighs. “I’m guessing you don’t get told no very often.”

  I smile and flash him a little wink. “No one would dare.”

  When I return with the thickest quilt I can find, Cade is curled back into the fetal position like I found him. I wonder if it’s a defensive position or if this man is truly broken, inside and out.

  I double the blanket, positioning it on his torso, making sure the heat stays centered over his heart. You worry about the internal organs staying warm the most. People can live without an arm but if the heart stops beating…

  I rub down his back. “You think you can eat some soup?”

  He rolls over to face me. “You don’t have to do all this for me.”

  I give him the stink eye before I answer. “That’s not what I asked you. Would you like for me to repeat the question?”

  He sighs, defeated. “Yes, ma’am. I think I can keep some down.” I give him a whole-faced smile and pat his thigh. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  He shakes his head, lightly chuckling. “No, I guess not.”

  I only have a few cans of soup in the kitchen. Chicken noodle, broccoli, and tomato. Hmm… Chicken noodle would be lightest on my malnourished friend’s stomach. I warm a bowl quickly. He needs rest so I don’t want to keep him awake much longer.

  Setting the tray down carefully on the nightstand, I flick on the lamp. Cade is nestled under the covers but opens his eyes, blinking as he adjusts to the light. I help him prop up on the pillows, settling the tray of soup over his legs.