Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Summer
I couldn’t believe I’d gotten myself stranded with Jonah again. I’d called Mama—I’d had a charger in my car this time. She hadn’t been surprised. Then Jonah and I had made hamburgers with tomatoes, pickles, onions, and lettuce. I might’ve heaped on the veggies to make a good show of it.
After dinner, he’d worked on his computer at the kitchen table while I’d watched a show.
I’d answered a few work emails on my phone and then abandoned it for Sweet Home Alabama.
I wasn’t used to quiet nights like this.
Boyd had always had to be doing something.
I might be working remotely, but I’d had a more restful two weeks than when I’d been with Boyd.
Jonah shuffled to the couch and gingerly sat down. He’d been moving slower and using his cane, but he hadn’t said anything.
“Do you want to watch something?” I asked.
“No. I can space out and think of designs.”
“Is that how it works?”
He changed position, and I swore he smothered a wince. “Yes. I’ll look at what’s for sale in stores and on popular sites, even look at some influencers in the field, but mostly I get inspiration when I can let my mind wander.”
“Your lifestyle fits it.”
“Yep.” He changed his position again.
“Are you in pain?” Would he answer honestly?
“It’s fine.”
So, sort of. “How bad was the fall?”
“Nothing I haven’t been through before.”
He wasn’t shutting me down like I’d thought he would. He wasn’t being open either, but he was talking. “What usually helps?”
“Rest.”
How could he rest when he was uncomfortable? “For real now, what helps?”
He rolled his eyes to me, his lips tight. The scruff along his jaw had grown into a trimmed beard. My palms itched to run along the strands. Were they wiry or soft? Did he use product? The longer the season went, did he turn more mountain man-y?
“It’s fine, Summer.”
I was tempted to threaten to call his mom, but that wouldn’t earn his trust. Breaking into his house was enough for one day. “I’m not asking if you’re fine. I’m asking what usually works.”
His mouth tightened more. “Hot baths, but I don’t want to bend in and out of the tub. Massage is usually good, but that’s out until the storm is done.”
“I can give you a massage.”
He went still and the air crackled between us. My offer was genuine and I’d made it without a second thought, but now the possibility was on my mind. My hands on his strong body. My mouth went dry.
“No,” he said tightly.
He’d named two things that worked and he was ruling out both. “The Wi-Fi’s still working. I can search some videos. Anything’s better than nothing, right? It’s not like I’m strong enough to hurt you.”
The corners of his jaw flexed. “You’re not massaging me.”
He was so definitive, it was insulting. “I only want to help.” When he shook his head and twisted away, I caught his wince. Enough of this. “Go lie down, Jonah.”
“Summer—”
“You’re in pain. It’s because of me. Let me help.”
His eyes softened at my plea. “Fine.” He got up as carefully as he’d sat down. His knuckles were white on his cane.
“Tell me when I can come in,” I called after him. “Do what you do when you have a massage—everything off and cover yourself with a sheet.”
Otherwise, I’d rub him once, and he’d say he was much better.
A flush crept over my body while waiting. I was doing this. I was putting my hands on his bare skin.
I could be professional.
God, I wasn’t even an amateur.
“Ready,” came his muffled voice.
Okay. I could do this and not let my hormones rage. I was newly single. I was an uninvited guest. I was stepping over the line. But he was in pain and I was certain I could help him.
My pulse thundered between my ears when I entered his room.
Instead of a dark cave, I found a spacious bedroom with photographs of the valley on its walls.
It was like the view from his front windows right in his room.
The window had no shades, but faced the trees.
What kind of wildlife did he see roaming by?
Only the lamp on his nightstand was on, casting a warm glow around the cozy, manly room with his solid cedar furniture and sleigh-style bed frame.
Finally, I looked at the bed. His blankets were tossed to the side and his big body was sprawled on his belly. I stopped beside him. I didn’t know what side was his usual one, but he’d lain so his left side was close to the edge.
“Did you make the dresser and bed frame?” I asked, pushing my sleeves up. My hands shook. The massage was supposed to be clinical but the intimacy was undeniable.
“No.” His head was turned in my direction and his eyes were closed like he was blocking out the discomfort. “They’re inspiration pieces. I got them before I opened my shop.”
His deep voice did wicked things to my belly. The electric energy between us swirled lower.
Be. Professional.
I rubbed my hands together to warm them up. “Where do you need it the most?”
He cracked an eye open.
Could I have made it sound more sexual?
“Around my knee, and my shoulder’s flared up.”
Both were my fault. “Okay. I’ll start at the shoulder.” I could figure out how to position the blanket while I worked on the less revealing body part.
I pulled the sheet down. He’d chosen a solid pewter color. So fitting with the rest of the room. I touched my fingertips lightly to his fevered skin and yanked my hands away. “Uh, do you have lotion?”
His eye was back to being a slit. “I have lube.”
A giggle sputtered out of me. I was rewarded with a chuckle from him. I laughed harder. “God, this is awkward. I only want to help. I swear.”
“I believe you,” he said, seriously. “Check the drawer.”
In the nightstand was a plain bottle of lube. I couldn’t resist looking around. He had a few magazines, too many pocketknives to be useful, and little else. “No condoms?”
I bit my lip. Intrusive much, Summer?
“I don’t bring women here.”
The confession pleased me more than I could imagine. I was in his home, but no one else had been. Also, no other woman had walked in and caused him to have an accident. Regardless, he must buy condoms when he was meeting Jackie or he must keep a box somewhere to load his wallet when needed.
Not that it was my business.
“I won’t use much.” I squeezed the cool gel on my hand, closed the cap, and faced his big body. Time to bare some skin. “Your left shoulder, right?”
He bent his right arm and rested his face on it so his head wasn’t twisted to the side. “Yep.”
The flutters in my belly grew stronger as I pinched the sheet to keep from touching him before I was mentally ready. Drawing the fabric down to his waist, I took in the view. I had no reason to go lower until I started on his leg, and then I would be moving the sheet from the bottom up.
Did he work outside without his shirt all summer? His bronzed skin was tan line–free. The only lighter marks were neat scars. I traced one and his muscles bunched.
“How many surgeries did you have?” Guess I wasn’t done being intrusive. I had similar lines on my abdomen from my own crash.
“On my shoulder or in total?”
“From the accident.”
“Too damn many.”
If he didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t push him. I rubbed the lube on the general area of his shoulder blade.
“Eight,” he said, and I continued to stroke softly, testing how much pressure he wanted, watching for him to tense. “Two on my face, two on my shoulder, and four on my leg—one foot surgery, one hip surgery, and two knee surgeries.”
I ran my palm over his shoulder and down his arm. He twitched like he wasn’t expecting me to roam so far away from his back. The strength radiating from him was tangible, rippling under my fingers as I floated my hands over his skin. “I had three when I was a kid.”
His biceps flexed under my hands. “How bad were you hurt?”
I rarely talked about the crash that had killed my parents. Memories would come and I’d get that smothering sensation again. The tightness in my chest and the struggle to breathe. “I had a punctured lung and abdominal bleeding. I don’t count getting stitches for all the lacerations.”
He let out a breath. “Me either. If I wasn’t under, it wasn’t a surgery.”
“Weird how we form arbitrary limits.”
“I spent half a day figuring out what I would call a surgery versus a procedure. If I was awake, it didn’t go in the surgery category.”
I rubbed small circles in the muscles between his spine and armpit. A low groan left him.
“I didn’t cause more damage, did I?” I couldn’t get the horror of watching him crumple out of my head.
“It wasn’t your fault, Summer.”
It was though. All of it. Instead of doing the responsible thing and telling Jonah exactly what had happened that day, I’d avoided him.
I’d stayed away and I’d used his outburst at the hospital as an excuse.
But Jonah didn’t realize what I was talking about.
I was a coward, so I kept it that way. “I walked right into your house without announcing myself.”
“You take on too much, sunshine.”
I dug into the muscles at the base of his neck and he grunted. I eased up.
I didn’t take on too much. I hadn’t done enough.
My fingertips skated over several tiny bumps. More jagged scars from glass shards that had come from the bigger piece that had sliced his face. I didn’t have the large scars he did, but I had similar ones covered by my hair and scattered down my neck.
A few more minutes went by. He wasn’t bunching and tensing like he had been. A sign that what I was doing was helping.
“I was an adult,” he said, his words muffled like he’d melted into the mattress. “I can’t imagine what something like that is like for a kid.”
I swallowed hard and my fingers stalled. “I should start on your leg.” I had a lot more area to cover and the logistics would keep my mind occupied. He’d had hip surgery and the fall had likely jammed that joint too. If he’d let me, I owed him a toe-to-hip rubdown.
My breaths turned shallow as I covered his back with the sheet and moved to the foot of the bed. I rolled up the sheet, trying to keep his other leg covered for maximum privacy.