Chapter 2
Jaxon snapped open his eyes. The sharp crackle of a flame made him jump, but warm, confident hands pressed against his bare chest, stilling him.
His skipping heart rate regulated as he stared into McKenna’s eyes—the darkest blue he’d ever seen.
Could they even be called blue? Jesus, they were damn-near violet. Enveloping. Anchoring.
Heat flared in his body. “What happened?” If he’d passed out like a pussy, he’d go outside and tackle that wildcat just to prove he wasn’t a complete loser.
McKenna dropped to the ottoman his legs were stretched out on. He shifted in his seat, and the blanket tucked around his middle fell. His stomach clenched. “Why am I naked?” Had he missed something? No. If anything had happened between them, he sure as hell would have gotten her naked first.
She tilted her head and scrunched her nose. Cute. In a Samantha from Bewitched kind of way, only without the wiggle.
“You’re running a fever and nodded off. Probably exhaustion, shock. You were only asleep a few minutes. I took your shirt off so I could make sure there wasn’t a larger wound. And your pants . . . well, they were soaked.”
He snorted. “I don’t have a fever.”
Her lips flicked into a grin. “One hundred and two point seven to be exact.”
He coughed. God, what was wrong with his chest? He dragged his feet off the ottoman and pressed them into the carpet. His thighs trembled and dammit he wasn’t even standing. The tremors shook their way up his spine and goosebumps formed in their wake. “I haven’t had a fever since I was a kid.”
Her smooth, pale cheeks dimpled. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Fevers protect the body. If it weren’t for the cough, I’d say it was due to shock from the attack.”
He pressed his back into the chair to prevent the room from spinning. “I’m fine. Haven’t been sick in years.” The second part was true, but he definitely wasn’t fine—not that he’d admit it. If he hadn’t gotten out of the cold, no doubt he’d be half dead in the snow.
An impish smile stretched her lips and then vanished. “Fine, you’re not sick.” She tucked the earpieces of a stethoscope into her ears and breathed on the metal diaphragm.
He scowled. Of all the contraptions he’d expected the town hippie to have, a stethoscope wasn’t one of them. “Where’d you get that?”
She pressed it to his chest. “Breathe.”
He sucked in a breath, and she moved the metal around. She motioned for him to sit forward. “Again.”
He obeyed but couldn’t help gasping with annoyance as she set the cold object on his back. She patted his shoulder, and he relaxed back into the chair.
“I was an RN before I moved here.”
Interest sparked through his fuzzy brain.
Huh. Admittedly, he didn’t know much about McKenna or her past other than that she practiced acupuncture and made tinctures and salves and some kind of supposed immune-boosting concoctions.
As a city boy, it was hard not to be skeptical of that stuff, but if she made a living off it, all the power to her.
“Your lungs sound clear, so I’m not too worried. If you’re not feeling better by the time the roads clear you should check in with Dr. Lots.”
He brought his hand to his breastbone, but rubbing it did nothing to soothe the ache. “I’ll be fine.”
She tucked in a corner of her mouth. “Let’s clean up that wound.”
One glance at a metal box on the coffee table brought new sweat to the back of his neck. Hell, he wasn’t a wuss, but every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed, the room swayed as though he were on a damn boat, and the gash burned like a motherfucker.
Her light giggle made irritation creep up his throat. “What?”
“Nothing. You just look super angry.” She shrugged as if his misery were completely ridiculous.
“Sorry,” he said wryly. “I feel like death and I’m not looking forward to whatever medicine is going to sting the shit out of the cut.”
She moved closer and motioned him to turn.
He obliged.
“For the record, it won’t hurt. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll make you a cup of tea after.”
He scoffed. “Tea. That’s exactly what I need.” His tone had more bite than he’d intended. “Sorry, that’d be nice,” he grumbled.
She rubbed his bare shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I don’t have alcohol. I’m sure that would beat the hell out of tea.” She reached for an amber glass bottle. “It’s colloidal silver. It won’t sting, I promise.”
He gave one nod. “What’s it look like?”
“The wound? Kind of ugly, but not as bad as I thought.” She ran her fingertip along the skin above the gash.
The motion should have made him cringe, but instead lust, combined with his climbing fever, sent a wave of heat through him.
“Looks like two claws got you, but thankfully not too deep. Head wounds always bleed easy, though, so the mess is a little misleading.” She opened the bottle.
Cool liquid washed over his neck, and she dabbed his collarbone to mop up the constant flow.
He kept his focus on her supple thigh, which was draped in pink leggings.
A gray sweatshirt slipped off the edge of her shoulder, revealing pale, satiny skin.
Desire hardened his dick despite his physical state.
The scent of lavender floated to his nose, and he inhaled a deep breath.
God, she was calming. Something about her settled the anxiety and fear that had chased him through the woods.
“How’s that feel?” She leaned closer to his face, forcing his attention to her eyes. Worry etched her irises. Her firm but gentle hand on his shoulder kept him from moving where he wanted to—closer.
He cleared his throat. “Didn’t sting at all.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Told you. It’s my secret weapon.” Her gaze flitted toward her kitchen. “Among other things.”
He studied the dark tendrils of her wavy hair.
Some kind of leather material was wrapped around a chunk of it.
She sealed the bottle of silver and her bracelets jangled with the motion.
Beads in teal, pink, and black took up half her forearm.
Around her neck were two silver chains; one held a large black stone and the other a crystal pendant that lay between her breasts.
Sexy. Exotic. Everything he didn’t need to get in his head right now. Maybe when he wasn’t too consumed over his brother he could entertain the idea of being with McKenna.
“Thanks.”
She pulled out a large bandage and adjusted it over his cuts. Her long hair dangled over his bare forearm. Every atom in his body told him to lift his hand and catch the strands in his fist.
McKenna was right. He was running a fever.
Yeah, he’d always found her attractive. And cute, the way she fluttered around town, her shopping baskets always filled with herbs and weird oils.
But what fascinated him the most was what everyone said about her.
How Dr. Lots referred some of his patients to her for acupuncture.
How Candy, part owner of her father’s hardware store, sang McKenna’s praises because she’d helped her get pregnant after eight years of infertility. The stories baffled and intrigued him.
“I didn’t know you were a nurse.”
She pressed the bandage to his skin, and he jerked his shoulder.
She clamped her teeth together. “Sorry. You’re all set now.
” She finished packing up the medicine box and lifted the metal to her thighs.
“Yeah, well, we all have a past. I’m grateful for what I learned in nursing.
It’s helped me tremendously to better care for my clients.
” Her bare, delicate shoulder rose. “But it wasn’t me.
I always knew our bodies could heal themselves when we let them.
Don’t get me wrong, modern medicine is needed in numerous ways.
But sometimes there’s a lot that can be done naturally, and for me, that resonated the most.” Her words danced from her lips, light and full of confidence.
She spoke like a person who knew herself well and was proud of what she’d accomplished.
He rested his head on the back of the chair. Gravity pulled at his eyelids. “Sounds like you followed the right path. I’m happy for you.” His jaw yanked down in a yawn. He shook it off. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She grabbed another blanket from the couch and draped it over him. “Get some rest.” She tucked the edge of the blanket around his shoulder, and he reached up and caught her elbow.
“Thanks.”
She closed her hand over his but moved it to rest on the arm of the chair. “Don’t mention it.”
“No, really,” he said, forcing his eyes to stay open long enough to say his piece. “You didn’t have to let me in . . . I would’ve died out there tonight if it wasn’t for you.”
Her tight smile reached her eyes. “Sleep.” She drifted away and the kitchen light clicked off, snapping his mind into darkness with it.
* * *
McKenna pulled the blanket to her chin and stared at the window.
The moonlight reflected off the heavy snow and bounced through the gap between the curtains.
She sighed and tossed herself toward the wall.
Sleep wasn’t going to happen. Having a man under her roof for the first time in seven years was making her jumpier than a grasshopper.
She flipped onto her back and stretched her hand above her head, her fingers grazing the gun, which lay against the wall by her headboard.
Jaxon might not pose a threat, but she wasn’t going to take a chance.
The other reason she couldn’t sleep was stupid.
He was a grown man, for god’s sake. He wasn’t going to die in his sleep from a fever, a cough, and a couple of deep scratches that she’d cleaned and bandaged.
But an unfamiliar buzz of worry hummed beneath her skin.
God, she hadn’t had to look after anyone in years.
Sure, she worried about her best friend, Livy, but she lived hours away, in Denver.
They were lucky if they saw each other a couple of times a year.