Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daphne grimaced as she rolled over in bed. She’d been run over by a steamroller. No question. The ache in her legs made sense, as did the pain encircling her wrists, but her shoulder blades? Or her upper arms? Nope, sometime in the night, a steamroller had made its way over her body.
Bracing herself for her eyelids to hurt, too, she forced them open. A dull light seeped from around the edges of the dark curtains, her bags were sitting across the floor, and a glass sat on the bedside table.
She had no idea what time it was, but clearly it was late enough that someone had dropped off her things while she’d blissfully slept through it.
With a deep breath, she eased herself to a sitting position, gingerly dragging the blanket with her. She wore a pair of sweats she’d borrowed from Amber and the heat was on, but the thought of ever feeling cold again did not appeal.
Leaning against the headboard, she paused long enough for the shock of pain to fade before attempting another move. When it mostly subsided, she turned her head to spy a glass on the side table.
Not a glass, one of those coffee mugs she’d seen on her social media feed that had a built-in heater to keep hot drinks hot. A wave of gratitude nearly had her weeping. Someone had brought her coffee. Hot coffee. She could smell it now.
Braving the pain because coffee was worth it, she reached for the mug, and as she did, her hand brushed against a note. Picking up both the mug and slip of paper, she took her first sip, the blessed black nectar of the gods warming her body as she glanced at the writing—a note from Callie.
Morning, beautiful. So sorry I can’t be here when you wake but today is my last day before vacation and I need to tie a few things up, then I’m all yours.
I hope you slept as well as can be although I’m sure you’re sore as hell after last night.
There’s a bunch of ibuprofen in the drawer, and I checked your water bottle.
Take a couple before getting out of bed and sip your coffee while they kick in.
It won’t stave off all the pain, but it will help.
Ryan wants to come by when you wake up. No doubt he has more questions, maybe an update, too.
Amber is around, so is Lovell. I’ll see you at 3. Call if you need anything. Stay safe and warm. XOXO
She smiled and set the paper down before doing exactly what her sister suggested, downing a couple of pills before returning to her coffee.
Halfway through her cup, her brain started working.
Had Weeks and Beeks been caught? Or had they managed to slip away again?
For two seemingly low-level criminals, they were either exceedingly lucky or much better at their job than the info Ava dug up suggested.
Well, they weren’t that lucky. After all, she was propped up, warm and cozy at the Falcons’ clubhouse, drinking excellent coffee and not tied up in their cabin waiting to be bartered away.
As she thought about how the morning could have unfolded, her mind wandered, as it often did, from topic to topic. How had Daisy found Weeks and Beeks? How much had she paid? Where had their intel come from to find Lovell in the first place?
So many unasked and unanswered questions, but the more she turned everything over in her mind, the more doubt crept in about Daisy’s involvement.
She couldn’t put her finger on a single specific reason why she believed what she did.
It was more a collection of little things mixed with a healthy dose of intuition.
A knock at the door pulled her from her musing. Too sharp to be Amber, she braced herself for her visitor. “Come in.”
Lovell stepped through, shutting the door behind him. His eyes skimmed over her, or what little of her he could see, before resting on hers.
“How are you?”
“A steamroller ran me over, but the coffee and ibuprofen are helping.”
A ghost of a smile touched his eyes. The man had broody down to an art, although she didn’t think he had to try hard.
He wore it well, but still… Then again, her lady bits might not survive it if he smiled a real smile.
He wasn’t a thing like the gorgeous models and actors she’d worked with over the years, but none of them had ever made her feel like Icarus flying too close to the sun.
As intoxicating as Lovell might be, though, the story hadn’t ended well for the boy, and she would do well to remember that.
Which would be easier if she could forget how almost-tender he’d become when he found out about Callie’s pregnancy.
How he’d instantly switched from angry to concerned, caring.
Her sister was her Achilles’ heel, and while his solicitude hadn’t been for her sake, his aim had struck true.
Reining her thoughts in, she asked, “What time is it?” Her phone had been taken into evidence, and she had no idea where her watch had gone after Hawkeye cleaned her wrists.
“Almost noon. You hungry?”
She scanned her body, weighing whether it could handle food.
She needed to eat, she needed to refuel, but her body didn’t always react well to stress.
Some people turned to food to soothe them; she’d never been one of them.
Back in the day, her model friends often envied her, but while definitely convenient for her profession, it wreaked havoc on her system—maybe not in the short term, but it wasn’t healthy long-term.
“Maybe some oatmeal with a little brown sugar if you have it?” Her go-to meal when she needed easy-on-her-stomach fuel.
“With milk?”
“Is there any other way?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were one of those oat milk or almond milk or soy people.”
She chuckled. “I live in a country with some of the best dairy in the world. Whole milk is my god.”
His lips flirted with thinking about smiling. “I’ll make it now. You want to come down, or do you want me to bring it up?”
The thought of getting dressed and walking down the stairs to the lodge room sounded about as awesome as pulling her toenails out, but if she didn’t move at all, she’d regret it even more.
“I’ll come down. It might take me a while, but I’ll make it. Besides, I hear the police want to chat with me.”
He nodded. “They do. The storm moved out this morning, as predicted, and the roads are getting cleared. Want me to call Ryan and tell him you’re awake?”
“Give me twenty minutes? I’m moving slow. At least for a few hours.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll start the oatmeal, then come back and check on you.”
He shut the door behind him, and she took another minute to gather her courage and make a plan.
After setting her coffee down, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying not to stiffen her body even more.
With her feet solidly on the floor, she manifested both her personal trainer and yoga instructor.
Reaching her hands overhead, she clasped them together, then slowly stretched side-to-side.
Her muscles protested, everything in her body protested, but after a dozen or so gentle rocks, they quieted down from a scream to a dull grumble.
When her spine and torso felt a little looser, she pushed herself up to stand, sucking in a breath at the pain scorching a path through her body from her toes to her lower back.
Knowing she simply needed to move through it, she took a step forward, then another, slowly pacing the room.
When her muscles and joints got the message that they had to start working again, she paused for a few easy stretches.
She had one hand on the wall and her other hand gripping her ankle behind her butt, stretching her quads, when Lovell knocked again.
His expression tightened when he saw her, but he didn’t comment. “Dottie is finishing the oatmeal. I came to see if you needed help.”
She glanced around the room, looking for her clothes. When she came up empty, she figured Amber had taken them to wash. “Can you put my bag on the bed? Just the carry-on is fine. It’s not heavy, but…”
He strode into the room and in six efficient strides had the luggage on her bed. She went through its contents in her head, deciding on a suitable outfit. The only problem was the socks.
“I can get dressed, but I might need help with socks.”
“Want me to step outside while you change?”
She shook her head. “I’ll change in the bathroom, brush my teeth, do the morning things.”
He nodded and moved to the chair positioned by the window.
Opening her bag, she dug through the contents, pulling out clean underwear, a pair of leggings, a front-clasp bra, and a button-up flannel. She had a down vest she’d pull over it, but for now, she had enough to cover herself.
Sitting down on the toilet took longer than she’d ever admit, but ten minutes later, she emerged, teeth brushed, bladder empty, and dressed well enough.
She’d even managed to pull her hair back into a low ponytail and open the little jar of face balm that Amber had left her.
The wool blanket had done as good a job as it could protecting her the night before, but her cheeks had taken a beating from the brutal wind.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and took a seat as the huge man knelt in front of her, much as he had the night before.
He was doing nothing more than helping her put socks on.
Just as he’d been doing nothing more than taking her boots off the night before.
But as it had then, the sight sucked her into some sort of mesmerizing trance.
After bunching the sock up, he gently lifted her foot and eased the soft wool over her toes. His warm hands wrapped around her arch as he pulled it along her foot, sliding it over her heel and covering her ankle.
“Are your feet sore?” he asked, his fingers gently pressing the soles.
She closed her eyes in bliss and nodded. “Those boots are great winter boots, and they will forever hold a special place in my heart for how well they got me through last night, but they aren’t hiking boots.”
His fingers continued to rub and press. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the relief. She almost whimpered when he stopped, but relaxed when he picked the other up and did the same, this time, his skin sliding against hers.
Fleetingly, she considered the implications of him giving her a foot massage.
The only men who’d ever done the same—other than professionals—had been men she’d been dating.
And even that was rare. The iconic dialogue between John Travolta’s and Samuel L Jackson’s characters in Pulp Fiction even ran through her head.
But the magic Lovell was working felt too good to let thoughts distract her.
“I should book a massage for today,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.
In response, his hand moved from her foot to her calf. She didn’t mean to let out the sigh of pleasure, but damn, the man was good with his hands, just the right amount of pressure in all the right places.
The warm, relaxing pleasure did a one-eighty when his thumb pressed on the spot above her knee on the inside of her thigh. She barely managed to stop the sharp inhalation of arousal as heat shot straight up her body to her core.
His thumb continued rubbing small circles along the inside of her thigh, as his other hand closed over the top of her leg, his palm pressing into her quads as he stroked from her knee to her hip.
Her eyes flew open as his thumb dug into the tendon below her pelvic bone and his fingers curled around her backside.
Green eyes held hers as he continued working the tension, the pain, from her body. Only he was doing much more than that. Her body twitched, a fluttered clench of physical desire. His thumb inched higher on her inner thigh.
His gaze never wavered. He’d take this as far as she’d let him, but he was watching, waiting, for any sign from her to pull back.
She should. Lovell was Gabe’s family; it would get complicated.
Not to mention, she didn’t really want to make room in her life for another person.
She was far too comfortable on her own. Which meant she’d only be using him for the orgasms she was 100 percent sure he’d give her.
Not necessarily a bad thing, depending on where he stood on the issue, but that conversation should happen before crossing the line.
“Daph?”
Amber’s voice startled her out of her debate. Lovell’s hands immediately dropped away.
She opened her mouth to respond, but a small croak came out. Lovell grinned as he grabbed her second sock. She cleared her throat. “Come in,” she called back.
Amber nudged the door open. Her gaze dropped to Lovell, almost done sliding her second sock on, then shot to Daphne. Amber’s deep brown eyes searched hers, then, with a tiny shake of her head, she said, “Ready for breakfast?”
“I am now,” she said. Lovell rose and held out his hand. Setting her palm in his, she stood with his help. Despite the delicious distraction of the past few minutes, pain shot through her body, and she wasn’t fast enough to cover her wince.
Lovell shifted, but she sensed his intent and raised her hand to stop him. “If you so much as think of carrying me downstairs, it will not end well for you.”
His eyes narrowed, and damn the man seemed to be contemplating if it was worth the risk. His jaw ticked again and he huffed. “At least lean on me.”
That she could do. Taking his arm, they started forward.
Amber moved to the side as they passed, then closed the door behind them.
They made it down the hall in fairly decent time, but the stairs slowed her down.
Four steps from the bottom, Lovell’s patience snapped, and he picked her up, depositing her at the bottom before she had a chance to protest.
She glared at him. He shrugged. Behind them, Amber stifled a giggle.
It was going to be a long day.