by Dana Mason
She shook her head, still coughing. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Why are you here, in my house...”
“You didn’t have an emergency contact, and I couldn’t leave you alone.”
She cleared her throat. “Since when—what time is it?”
“My mom and I brought you home from the hospital at about three this morning.”
“Three o’clock—what time is it now?”
He glanced at his watch. “Almost midnight.”
She rubbed at her throat. “So, it’s Saturday...Sunday?”
“It’ll be Sunday in ten minutes. You slept through Saturday. Do you want help getting off the floor?” He held his hand out for her.
She looked at his face, and then his hand. “Ah, thanks, but I can manage on my own.”
He backed up a step as Sarah tried to push herself up.
When she winced, he stepped forward and reached out for her. She jerked away and fell back against the tub. Heat rushed her cheeks, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the floor to look at him again. She hugged herself, trying to stop the fluttering spasms taking over her body.
Mark stepped back, mumbling an apology. “I’ll just...give you some privacy.”
She watched his feet inch back out of the room. “Thanks.”
With her good hand, she braced herself against the edge of the bathtub and lifted up off the floor.
She closed the door and looked in the mirror. What a mess. Besides the bruises on her arms, her left shoulder was black from the top of her elbow to the base of her neck, and it hurt like hell. The sight was cringeworthy for sure. If it didn’t hurt so much, she would’ve thought someone painted it on. The tenderness made it impossible to touch, and beyond the bruising, fine, red scratches covered one side of her face and neck.
Bruises also colored her cheekbones, the black and purple standing out against her pale skin. She reached up and picked a twig out of one of her curls. With a quickened pulse, she ran a finger along the angry scratch that traveled her jaw and remembered gaining consciousness in the bushes.
Sleeping for an entire day didn’t make this less real. It had not been a bad dream. The bubble of safety she’d envision around her had burst. How did this keep happening? For some reason she’d thought a stranger attack would be less painful, but she never imagined she’d have the opportunity to compare.
She shook off the anxiety and took a deep breath, then gingerly took off the sling and slipped on her robe. Before tying the front, she stopped and plucked at the hem of her tank top. Uh—how?
Think, Sarah, how did you get inside the house? How did you change your clothes? She remembered Mark helping her out of the car, but nothing else.
Sarah crept to the side of her bed, looking for her slippers. Sitting on the tiled bathroom floor had made her body rigid with cold, and now every injury throbbed as she inched through her bedroom.
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee drifted in.
“Oh thank God,” she whispered, following the scent. She hobbled out of her bedroom through the living room, toward the kitchen where Mark sat waiting and the coffee pot percolated softly.
She looked at the unfinished coffee. “Thank you.”
“I wasn’t sure you would want coffee, but I thought just in case...” He shrugged his shoulders, making his uneasiness known.
“Coffee should help clear the fog.” She hesitated and struggled to pull herself up on one of the barstools with her good arm. When she was seated comfortably, she looked at him and then down at herself.
She tugged her robe closed. “I don’t remember much.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, my mom helped you get dressed when we got here.”
“Right...your mom is Beth Summors.” She nodded now as the memory cleared some. “She runs the after-school center next to the school.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I was picking her up from work. How’s the shoulder feel?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m not sure what the sling was for...”
“You don’t remember having your shoulder pushed back into the socket?”
She shook her head.
“It was dislocated.” His expression darkened as he said it. “Does it hurt? You have a prescription of pain killers if you need something.” Mark gestured toward the pill bottle next to the coffee pot.
“Ah, no.”
It was obvious her refusal worried him.
“I want to be clearheaded for a while before I go numb again. It’s a pretty weird feeling, you know, waking up with a strange man in my house—and not knowing what day it is.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “Why are you here?”
“We didn’t want to leave you alone and you wouldn’t let us call anyone.”
“Thanks for staying.” She looked around now, too embarrassed to admit just how grateful she was to have someone there with her. “Beth isn’t here?”
“I finally talked her into going home. She’s a caretaker by nature and wouldn’t agree to leave you until I promised to stay.”
“I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble. I appreciate it, but I could've managed.” She tried to sound stronger than she felt. Normally being alone with a stranger in her house would make her uncomfortable, but she was relieved.
“I’m glad we were there to help, and I’m glad you’re...okay.” The softness of his voice made her feel a little guilty for questioning him.
She got to her feet and walked stiffly over to the coffee pot to pour a cup. “Would you like some?”
“Sit down. I’ll get it.”
“I can handle...”
“I’ve got it.” He wrestled the pot from her hands and filled two mugs.
Sarah stared at him, not sure how to respond to his manhandling her coffee carafe.
“I’m not completely helpless,” she said, struggling to get back onto the barstool.
“No—yeah.” He gestured to the stool. “You’ve got everything under control.”
He actually had the nerve to smile at her when he said it. As if she cared about the cute little dimple on his left cheek.
“Well, Mark, thanks again for your help. Sorry you can’t stay longer, but I need to get back to bed.”
Mark ran a hand through his short, chocolate brown hair. “Sorry. I really am only trying to help.” His eyebrows drew together. “Do you even remember what happened to you last night?”
She lowered her eyes and fought the slow suffocating pressure that overcame her. The things that might have happened...
“Are you okay?”
“Yes...fine.”
“Do you remember anything?” His voice softened again, and she glanced up at him.
“Some. Enough. It’s kind of fuzzy though.”
“I’m not surprised, between the trauma and the drugs they sedated you with.”
“They sedated me?”
“Yeah...you were pretty out of it. Do you remember being at the hospital, talking to the police?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
He sat quietly for a long moment, and then said, “Do you have someone who can stay with you?”
“I don’t need help.” She thought about calling her mother and cringed. She didn’t have the strength to deal with that invasion. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
“You don’t have any family?”
“Not nearby. My parents live out of state.”
“I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. You can call someone in the morning to come stay with you.”
She jerked her head up to look at him. “No—no, I’ve imposed too much already.” Her eyes traveled his face, taking in the dark circles and disheveled hair. “You look completely exhausted and I’m—I will be fine.”
Mark rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “Yeah, I must look pretty frightening myself. I stayed awake, thought you would need someone when you woke up.”
Sarah started to refuse again, but before she could, she saw the concern etched in the lines of his face. A c
omplete stranger—the emotion and the fear for her was all there in his deep blue eyes. As she looked at him, she couldn’t deny the sincerity she read on his face and felt as if she needed to comfort him. What had he gone through over the last two days? She would have said something to show her gratitude, but she was too busy fighting tears. Usually she guarded herself better around people.
“I’m sorry,” he said in reaction to her tears.
“No, I am.” She cleared her throat and waved off his apology. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this mess. I’m sure your wife is furious with you.”
“No, she doesn’t know anything about it.”
“What? Your wife doesn’t know where you are?” she shot back at him, her face getting hot.
He raised his hand in defense. “My ex-wife, sorry, didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m divorced.”
“Oh,” she said, lifting a hand to her chest. “I was about to feel even more guilty. I’m not comfortable with you uprooting your life to babysit me. You don’t even know me.”
“There’s no need to feel guilty at all,” he said with a little more force in his voice. “I’m not comfortable leaving until I know you’re going to be okay and...safe.” Mark hesitated a little too long on the word safe.
Sarah’s pulse kicked up in reaction to the look on his face.
He waited a heartbeat before he said, “I don’t think you fully understand the situation.”
Chapter Three
“What do you mean by situation?” Sarah asked, wide-eyed.
“The guy who attacked you took your wallet and keys.”
The force of what he said sunk in slowly.
“He took my wallet and my keys?” Her stomach rolled and coffee burned the back of her throat. With her hand over her mouth, she tried to swallow back the sick.
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Mark said when Sarah slid off the barstool and headed back to the bathroom.
Her second round of fear-induced vomiting and the cold tile floor gave her a sense of déjà vu. She was seriously failing at the “not being pathetic in front of people” thing.
With a moan, she lay back on the hard floor, shivering and trying to catch her breath. She’d been nearly raped by some maniac, and now that maniac had her keys and address.
Mark approached the bathroom door and tapped. “Do you need my help?”
“No.”
“I brought you more water.”
“Okay, come in.” She sat up slowly, feeling every bruise on her body, and reached for the cup. “Thanks,” she whispered, trying not to grimace.
“I guess this is a reaction to the sedatives.”
“Ha, maybe,” she lied.
“Can I help you up?”
“If you don’t mind.” She squeezed her eyes closed and waved him off. “No, I’m fine.”
“Don’t be scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes popped open and met his, “I’m not scared!”
“I know...I’m just trying to help.”
She shook her head, feeling foolish for snapping at him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Will you please help me get up?”
Mark leaned closer, reaching without touching her, as if waiting for her to pull away. He looked like he was approaching a feral cat. She inhaled and held her breath reaching for his shoulder with her trembling right hand. Then she lifted her left hand and laid it on his arm above his elbow. He held her behind her shoulders and under her arms, but kept a comfortable distance between them.
Despite his gentleness, his touch made her apprehensive. She braced for more pain, but he held still.
“Try to relax, Sarah. Tension will only make the pain worse.”
Hearing her name helped her focus. She exhaled slowly and relaxed a little. When Mark pulled her up, she fought the urge to lean into his warm chest.
Steady on her feet, she whispered a quiet thank you, and he backed out of the room.
She adjusted her robe and looked at her reflection. Okay, Sarah, hold it together a little longer. With a nod to the mirror, she left the bathroom striving for confidence, but suspected Mark saw right through her facade. She gave him a weary smile when she entered the kitchen. “I’m okay.”
“How’s the arm?”
“It hurts.” Heat flooded her face at the admission.
“Are you ready to take something for the pain now?”
“No, I need to know everything before I fall into another medicated stupor.”
“Do you think your stomach is settled enough? I’m not sure how much more your body can take.”
“I am fine. I’m stronger than I look, and a little puking never killed anyone.” She took a deep breath and tried to relax. “Sorry, but once I hear everything, I can relax.” She carefully lifted herself back up onto the barstool.
“Are you fine enough to eat something?”
He smiled, and Sarah realized she should give him more credit. She wasn’t an easy patient to treat, but he was relentless. She started to refuse, but he was already pulling things from her pantry.
“Soup and crackers okay with you?”
“Yeah...fine.”
She didn’t like that Mark moved around her kitchen as if he lived there. Clearly his mother wasn’t the only caretaker in the family. Most men wouldn’t bother making her soup. It was a sweet gesture. Staying there with her was a sweet thing to do. And let’s face it, if he wasn’t here, she’d still be shivering on the bathroom floor, likely sobbing in self-pity.
“You should tell me the rest.” She fought to keep her voice level. “I guess it’s safe to assume he wasn’t caught, and it’s only a matter of time before he figures out he has complete access to me and my home.”
“No, he wasn’t caught.” He turned toward her. “But he doesn’t have access to you or your home.”
Surprised, Sarah looked up at him. His gaze was so intense she had to turn away. His level of intensity told her one thing for sure—she had to leave. Pack her bags and leave her home.
Again.
Oh, God—the thought of running away broke her heart. Especially now that she’d finally found a place she really loved.
“He can’t get to you,” Mark said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I’m sorry?”
“He won’t get through me.” His jaw tensed and determination flitted across his face. “I’ve already taken precautions to protect you.”
She stared at him now, holding her breath, not sure she understood what he was telling her.
He turned back toward the stove, and she focused her eyes on his broad shoulders, trying like hell to make sense out of what he said. She slid off the stool and walked to the stove. He towered over her five feet seven inches by at least another five inches.
When she leaned against the counter next to him, he glanced at her and then back at the pot.
“Exactly what precautions are you talking about?”
“Soup’s ready,” he said, and reached over her head to grab a bowl off the shelf.
The closeness forced her to back away, but not before she took in his musky, sandalwood scent.
She walked back to the stool as he placed a bowl of soup down in front of her. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“I’ll talk, you eat.”
Sarah took a couple of spoonfuls of soup, and some of her tension melted away. She ate in silence for a few minutes before she glared up at him with one eyebrow arched in question.
He held his hands out palms up and said, “I didn’t want you to have to worry—let’s just say I took care of some security issues for you.”
She dropped her spoon, and it sank into the soup when she placed her palms down on the bar, fighting for the courage she needed to put this man in his place. She would not let him act like she was some stupid woman who couldn’t take care of herself. She’d always taken care of herself.
“Are you ready for your pain meds yet? Now that you’ve eaten they shouldn’t upset your
stomach.”
“No. You need to finish telling me everything so I can protect myself.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of your security.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I changed your locks.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. No, not true, she knew exactly how she felt about that—she didn’t like it at all. “Thank you for taking liberties without my permission.”
“I also installed a security system on your house.”
“Wait...what? Did I hear that right?” She took in his posture and narrowed her eyes. What an arrogant S.O.B. What made him think she needed him to come in and save her—rescue her like some pathetic little twit?
She slid off her barstool and paced the length of her kitchen, fighting to keep from screaming in frustration. “So who died and made you God?”
“Whoa, what’s the problem?”
She threw her uninjured arm in the air. “You had no right to come into my home and do this. I don’t even know you.”
“I guess I should have just left you unprotected.”
She leaned closer to him. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come in here and take over.”
His brows shot up. “Take over—what the hell are you talking about? I’m trying to help. Most people would be grateful.” He leaned in too, getting even closer. “Sorry for considering your safety and not leaving you to deal with it alone.”
It took everything she had not to retreat from his glare, but she refused to back off. This was her house—her life. “I didn’t sign anything. I didn’t agree to any of this.”
Mark must have seen a spark of fear in her eyes. His expression softened and he backed off. “You’re right.” He turned his back on her and walked toward the living room. “I’ll take it out. Sorry for inconveniencing you with my help.”
When the front door opened, she wished for a hole to crawl into—a place where she could be alone and think. If he had intended to make her feel bad, mission accomplished. She had every right to be angry, but did she have a reason to be nasty to him after taking care of her and staying with her? What kind of man does this?
She rested her hand on her forehead and took several shaky breaths. She didn’t need him—did she? God, why did he have to be so helpful and caring? Sarah pushed back the emotion and stepped into the living room when Mark returned with his toolbox.