CHAPTER NINE #2
Declan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to my knee for a moment. Brief. Warm. Then back to the steering wheel.
I gave him directions to my home, and he parked in the driveway.
My cottage was a small white clapboard place with a porch barely big enough for one chair and a front door that stuck when it rained.
Seeing as it was Oregon, of course it had rained while I was in the hospital, so Declan had to shoulder the door open.
“It sticks,” I said apologetically. Secretly relieved he’d been with me so he could do that. Banging my shoulder into the door to open it might have killed me.
“I noticed.” He laughed. “Maybe you should get a new door.”
“I rent. When I mentioned it to the landlord, he didn’t seem concerned.”
Declan gave me a quizzical look as he helped me over the threshold. “Aren’t you the guy who took down slumlords back in Portland? Why are you letting him get away with that?”
“I like it here. I don’t want to move.” I sighed. “If I start trouble, he might kick me out.”
Inside, the cottage was cold and smelled stale after being closed up for a day and a half.
I knew my home was small, but it felt even smaller with Declan in it.
The living room and kitchen were basically the same room, separated by a counter with two barstools.
The walls were a faded blue, but I liked the color.
It was calming. There was a couch that was too big for the room, a coffee table, and a sherpa blanket thrown over the armrest that I’d had since college.
I’d hung a few things to make it feel like mine: a framed black-and-white photo of the Portland skyline that I couldn’t quite let go of, and a vintage Oregon coast travel poster I’d found at a thrift shop.
My desk sat against the wall facing the kitchen window, which had the ocean view that had sold me on the place.
There was a corkboard near the desk, pinned with notes, clippings, business cards from sources.
Declan wandered over to the corkboard and read aloud the fortune cookie fortune I’d pinned on the board. “You will find what you are not looking for.” He smiled and glanced at me.
I grimaced. “I kept that one because it’s a good reminder to stop forcing things.”
He grunted but didn’t comment.
Declan went straight to the thermostat and turned the heat on, then opened the fridge, assessed its contents, and closed it with a bewildered expression.
“You need groceries.” He frowned. “You were only gone a day. How come there’s nothing in your fridge but an avocado and a six-pack of beer?”
I sat gingerly on the couch, groaning as I rested against the pillows.
“I was supposed to shop the day of the accident, but I got busy doing other things.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that I’d been pumping Gil for information just yet.
“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to get mowed down by a car. ”
“Would you like me to go grab some groceries?”
I bugged my eyes. “God, no. I don’t want you to do that. In fact, you don’t have to stay. You got me home, and that was the big thing. I should be fine from here on out.”
“What the heck, Spencer. You think I’m just going to drop you off like I’m an Uber driver?” He scowled. “You just got out of the hospital. You were hit by a car. I’m here to take care of you.”
“You don’t have to take care of me.” My cheeks warmed. “I’m sore and I need rest, but I’ll be healed in no time.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you want me to leave?”
“It’s not that.” I held his gaze. “I just don’t want to impose. We don’t really know each other that well. It was already a lot to ask for you to pick me up from the hospital.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
I sighed, wincing when my ribs twinged. “I should have just taken an Uber. I don’t know why I called you and bothered you.”
“I didn’t mind doing it.” He moved toward me. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s not that bad,” I lied. “I’ll take a pain pill after you leave.”
He laughed and sat beside me on the couch. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” His expression was gentle, and he took my hand. “Where are your pain pills?”
I patted my hoodie pocket and pulled out a vial of pain meds.
He took it from me and got up to go into the kitchen. Then he returned with a glass of water and one pill. “Take this. I’m going to help you into the bedroom. Then you’re going to take a nap, and I’m going to go grab some groceries.”
“Declan, you worked all day. I don’t want you to go grocery shopping for me.
” I met his gaze. “I’m sorry I imposed on you like this.
It must have been the pain pills. I don’t know what I was thinking.
God, you must have been mortified when I texted you.
You don’t owe me this. We spent one night together. Why did I think this was a good idea?”
He leaned toward me. “Stop it. If you apologize one more time, I’m going to smother you with a pillow and put you out of your misery.
I want to be here. You think I’d have agreed to this if I didn’t want to?
I’m the Chief of Police, Spencer. I think I know how to get out of something I don’t want to do. ”
I smiled ruefully, because that was probably true. Declan was no pushover.
He nodded toward the pill in my hand. “Take your medication. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I obeyed him, swallowing the pill and washing it down with the water. It was kind of a relief that he was ignoring my meltdown and taking charge. The drugs were making me weak and jittery, and I really did need sleep.
I let him help me up, and we hobbled into the small bedroom. My bedroom was barely big enough for the queen bed I’d insisted on buying. But it mostly worked, even if I had to shimmy sideways to get to the closet.
The walls were a warm yellow that caught the morning light, and I’d hung three small seascapes from a local artist who sold her work at the Saturday farmer’s market.
The only nightstand that would fit beside the bed was one made out of an old wooden lobster trap.
It was the perfect height for the bed, and the open front made a handy shelf for my phone and charger.
There was a small bathroom off my bedroom, and as Declan helped me sit on the bed, I looked longingly at the shower through the open door.
The hospital had wiped me down and given me a cursory sponge bath.
But my skin still felt grimy and slightly sticky from the antiseptic.
I didn’t want to get in the clean sheets feeling this way, but I wasn’t sure I had the strength or coordination to shower either.
Declan followed my glance. “Do you want to shower? Are you allowed?”
“The doctor said I could shower, but that I’d have to be careful because I might get dizzy.”
He nodded. “You’ll probably sleep better if you’re clean. Warm water might also help you relax.” He met my gaze. “Okay, we’ll take a shower.”
I lifted my brows. “What?”
He smiled. “We can shower together. Don’t worry. I won’t try any funny business.”
“Declan, you don’t have to shower with me. I’m not a kid.”
“No, you’re a guy with a cracked rib and a head injury. You think I’m going to risk you passing out in the shower and making things worse?” He was looking at me like I was nuts. “That’s not happening. Besides, I need a shower anyway after working all day.”
“This just keeps getting worse,” I muttered. “First I make you drive me home from the hospital, now you’re having to bathe me? This is humiliating.”
He looked almost annoyed. “Why? Why is it so hard for you to accept my help?”
I dropped my gaze, studying the wooden floor. “I don’t usually need help.”
“Well, right now you do,” he said firmly. “And apparently I’m all you’ve got.”
I glanced up. “Why are you being so nice about all of this?”
He leaned closer. “Because I like you, Spencer, and you need my help. I like helping people.” He hesitated. “I like helping you.”
My chest warmed at how sincere he sounded. “It would be nice to be clean.”
“See?” He smiled. “It’s no big deal. Really.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I’m going to help you undress now. It’ll probably be uncomfortable.”
“You can just say it,” I mumbled. “It’s going to be painful, and we both know it.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He studied my clothes as if trying to figure out the best way to get them off. I was wearing a T-shirt one of the nurses had given me from the hospital’s lost and found. My own clothes had been shredded in the accident. The same nurse had also given me a pair of jeans that were too big.
“How about you lift your arms? Can you do that?” he asked.
“I can try.” I winced as he helped me lift them, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out when my ribs shifted painfully.
I was covered in sweat by the time he managed to get my shirt off.
Declan’s jaw clenched as his gaze skated over my injuries.
The bruising on my left side was vivid, purple and yellow, spreading from my hip up across my ribs.
My left forearm was raw from wrist to elbow, where I’d skidded across the gravel, the skin torn in patches and already scabbing over.
“No wonder you’re grumpy,” he said softly. “You must be in a lot of pain. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
“It’s fine.” I kept my eyes down, feeling self-conscious.
“You’ll feel better once you have a shower and are in bed.” As he spoke, he slowly unzipped my jeans. He helped me lift my hips, and he gently tugged the jeans off my legs. He once more looked angry as he took in the bruising and scrapes on my legs.
He toed off his dress shoes, and then undid his tie. Next, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed both on the end of the bed. He stripped off his trousers and underwear with the same efficiency. He wasn’t in the least bit self-conscious, and why would he be?