Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
SIERRA
I’m engaged?
To a total hunk.
Complete with a sexy husky voice. Great smile. Rocking body.
The man offers his big, inviting hand. He even waves his fingers. “Come on, sweetheart.”
Uh…
Panic flickers through me. I wanted out of the hospital, but now I’m scared to leave. “Okay,” I croak, but I’m clutching the foot of the hospital bed like it’s a lifeline.
As my heart rate ticks up, I stall. “Can you get those shoes for me?”
He looks at the flip-flops—the cheap hospital ones. “These?”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“Damn. I should have thought.”
“Not like I’m running any races. They’re fine.”
He’s grumbling when he sets them in front of me. Pink flip-flops. A black T-shirt with a bright Transformer character on the front. A pair of too-big gym shorts.
Yep. This is a hot new look. If you’re trying to scare your new fiancé off.
“Need anything else, sweetheart?”
It strikes me he’s thoughtful. Totally present. Tuned in. Wow.
He’s got this way of seeing right past what I’m saying and without a word, proving that he knows what’s really on my mind.
“Is it cold outside?”
“Crisp. You’ll be fine until we get in the car. Then we’re going to pick up your clothes.” He grins. “You can change if you like. Not that you have to…”
“If you think I’m going to be caught dead wearing this, you’re not only handsome, you’re crazy.”
Ooops.
“Handsome, huh?”
“A little. Maybe a seven.”
He chuckles and holds his hand out for me.
I’m not sure if I find the ease with which he reads me and helps me shift from one mood to the next impressive, or if it’s disturbing. Especially given how messy it feels inside my head right now. No one else needs to see that.
I stand up and he tucks me against his side.
Oh my god. I’m engaged to him?
Tall. Dark. Sexy as can be, him. Thoughtful, gentle, confident him.
If the last few minutes have proven anything, it’s probably not going to be a burden to fall in love with the man again.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. The man is like a layer cake and the layers just keep getting better and better with every taste.
I shiver as I flash cold and hot.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Well enough to leave. Like they said. I can go. I just can’t… be alone. Yet.”
Babble much?
I gotta get my runaway tongue under control.
He nods once and I jerk my gaze away.
“It’s nice outside.” He dangles a carrot.
“Probably a lot nicer than in here,” I admit. “Feels like we’re breathing canned air.”
He chuckles and the corners of his eyes crease with his humor. Tiny lines form and tell me he’s smiled a lot. For a man that’s so serious, this surprises me.
The problem is, those little lines make him even more good looking.
Be still my heart. Dear god, he’s exceptional. From the tip of his dark, unruly hair to the long, strong legs.
My mouth starts to water, making me close my eyes. The urge to smack myself is real. But that would seriously hurt.
“We should go,” I announce, and open my eyes to find his brows raised.
“Your chariot awaits.” This time when he reaches for me, he touches my cheek.
My lips part. I inhale his clean cedar and fresh air scent.
His hand is warm. Rows of calluses tell me he’s not afraid of work.
I exhale sharply from the deliciousness of the contact. “Just go slow, okay? I’m a little wobbly.”
I swear it might just be from the power of his gravitational field.
He tugs me gently forward. “Copy that. Tell me if you need to stop.”
We’ve taken two steps when he halts and makes a low, grumbly sound. “Scratch that. We’re getting you a ride.”
“Hm?”
“A wheelchair.”
“No, no, it’s not necessary, really.”
“Look, you earned the royal treatment.” With that remark, a beautiful, arresting grin appears on his face and steals my argument.
Master Sergeant Strong disappears and I stand, glued to the floor, until he comes back with the wheelchair that I’d rather not ride in, but know that there’s no use arguing about.
With a sweep of his arm, he motions for me to sit. “Glad you didn’t push it.”
I grumble and relent. “I could push the chair, use it like a walker, you know.”
“Right. Just sit down, sweetheart, before I pick you up and deposit you in this chair.”
“So bossy.”
“You have no clue.”
I scoff at him. “I got in the chair, didn’t I?”
The chair squeaks as he rolls me down the corridor. “That’s a start.”
“I’m not sure I like bossy men.”
“We’ll see.” His tone is teasing. Light and easy.
But my nerves still sizzle. What if he’s too much?
I take a few steadying breaths, but that doesn’t stop the jolt I get when the elevator door closes.
Holy disasters! I should have looked in the mirror. It looks like I tumbled down a flight of stairs…on my face.
How did I get so many bruises?
I’m grimacing when I look up and catch his reflection. We look at each other for a beat and it’s almost as if he doesn’t even see how horrible I look.
“Why in the world would a hospital have a reflective surface in the elevator? I look like hell warmed over.”
“It’s so people feel safe in here with strangers. You can see if someone is behaving oddly.”
Damn. I frown. “You’re logical too.” I fuss with my hair. “Why haven’t I ever thought of that? Or maybe I did before. Who knows what I thought?”
His eyes dance with light. “Smart, handsome, and bossy. Aren’t you a lucky girl?”
“Good grief. You’re over the top.” I can’t stop my smile. “But I’m filing a complaint with the hospital for undue distress.”
I jolt a little when his hand very gently comes to rest on the top of my head. The heat from his touch infuses me. His next words drive that warmth home. “You still look pretty to me so don’t beat yourself up. You’ll heal fast.”
“I sure hope.”
I also hope about a million other things too.
The elevator drops slowly. Time isn’t the only thing trudging through molasses in this building.
As we drop the last couple of floors, my fiancé says, “Now, we need to talk about something else.”
Uh oh. Change of tone.
He continues as he watches me in the reflective doors. “You have to do what I say, without argument.”
I watch my expression change to concerned surprise. “Everything? That’s a lot. Don’t you think everything is kind of broad?”
“It is.”
Matter of fact. No elaboration. Ugh.
The humor slides out of me and leaves me feeling just plain grumpy.
That happened fast. I’ve even given myself emotional whiplash. Something is definitely wrong inside my head.
My tone is none-too-friendly. “Is this how our relationship works? Because right now, that rubs me the wrong way.”
The rest of the elevator ride I stare unseeing at that stupid reflective door. Feels like I’m in a blender.
But there’s an undercurrent of unease about the I-rule-all remarks and how that fits into the picture of who we are.
I’m not sure if I agree with that mentality, but it seems I currently have zero say in my life.
This might not be an easy recovery.