Chapter 7 #3
The knock sounded again and Ryder turned with the Popsicles still in hand and strode to the door, yanking it open with an abrupt, angry motion.
Outside heat swept inside, causing moisture to condense on the outside of the Popsicle box.
Ryder was speechless. It was Eudora and she was clutching at the tail of her skirt with one hand and holding down her freshly done hair with the other as a hot, hasty wind blasted against the wall of the building.
“Are you going to ask me in, or am I to blow away?” Eudora asked.
He quickly regained his manners and stepped aside. “Sorry.”
Eudora stepped over the threshold and into the apartment as if it were an everyday occurrence for her to be visiting the servants’ quarters, when in actuality, she was quite curious as to the accommodations in which Casey had chosen to live.
The furnishings inside the garage apartment were simple compared to the elegance of the mansion, but to her surprise, the small rooms seemed comfortable…even homey. In fact it reminded her a bit of the first place she and Henry had shared.
Casey waved from where she was sitting. “Gran! Come in! I’m so glad you…”
Eudora gasped and clutched a hand to her throat as she walked toward Casey in disbelief.
“Oh my! Erica said you’d had an accident, but she led me to believe it wasn’t…”
Eudora stopped talking, aware that whatever else she said was going to make Erica out to be thoughtless and uncaring. And while she silently acknowledged that fact from time to time, she wasn’t willing to admit it aloud. Tears welled as she reached out to touch the side of Casey’s cheek.
“Sweetheart, your face. Your poor little face. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
Casey shook her head and then winced at the motion. “I’m fine, Gran. Actually, I look worse than I feel.”
“I doubt that,” Ryder said, and then extended the box toward Eudora. “What’s your pleasure? We have orange, cherry or lime. We’re saving the grape ones for Casey. They’re her favorite.”
Casey tried not to grin, but the shock on her grandmother’s face was impossible to miss.
“Excuse me?” Eudora asked, eyeing the box Ryder had thrust beneath her nose.
“Popsicles. Want one?”
Casey held hers up to demonstrate, then realized it was melting and stuck it back in her mouth and sucked, rescuing the juice that would have dripped into the paper around the stick.
“Well, I don’t think…”
Ryder dangled it under her nose. “Oh, come on, Dora. Have one.”
When she almost grinned, Ryder knew she was hooked. “You’re real fond of cherry limeade, so I’ll bet you’d like a cherry one, wouldn’t you?”
Without waiting for her to answer, he took one out of the box, unwrapped it as he’d done for Casey, and handed it to her with a paper towel around the stick to catch the drips.
“If anyone wants seconds, they’ll be in the freezer.”
Eudora stared at the icy treat he’d thrust in her hands and then straightened her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the worst. But when she lifted it to her mouth, the taste brought back sweet memories that made her heart ache.
By the time she’d regained her sense of self, Ryder had made himself scarce. .
“Well, now,” Eudora said, and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
There wasn’t much she could add to what Gran had already said. “Yes, I suppose that he is.”
“The question then remains, what are you going to do with him for the next twelve months? Somehow, I can’t see him playing chauffeur forever.”
Eudora ran the Popsicle in her mouth like a straw and sucked up what was melting with a delicate slurp while Casey thought about what Gran had said. What was Ryder going to do for the next twelve months? Even more important, what did she want him to do?
* * *
The clock on the bedside table stared back at Casey with an unblinking response.
No matter how many times she looked, it seemed that time was standing still.
It was midnight, and she’d been in bed for over two hours and had yet to relax enough to sleep.
But it wasn’t because she wasn’t tired. She was. In fact, so tired that her bones ached.
She couldn’t rest because every time she closed her eyes she kept seeing that truck coming out of nowhere—feeling the jarring impact of metal against metal—hearing her own scream cut off by the air bag that inflated in her face.
She rolled over on her side, then out of frustration, kept scooting until she was out of bed. If she could just get her mind into another channel, maybe she would be able to relax.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she eased into the narrow opening like a shadow moving through space.
Her body felt like one giant bruise, and every step she took was a lesson in endurance.
As she started toward the kitchen, the room was suddenly bathed in light.
She stifled a sigh. I should have known, she thought.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned and then stammered on the apology she’d been about to make. Legs. He had the longest, strongest looking legs she’d ever seen on a man, and they were moving toward her. Casey made herself focus on his face.
“Uh…I couldn’t sleep.”
His touch was gentle on her forehead as he felt for a rising temperature.
“You don’t have a fever,” he said, and cupped her face, peering intently into her eyes and checking for dilated pupils or anything else that would alert him to complications from her head injury.
But that could change at any minute, Casey told herself, and took a step back.
“I thought I’d get a drink of water,” she said.
“I’ll get it for you.” He moved past her and into the small kitchen, sucking up the space and what was left of Casey’s breath.
Moments later, he thrust a glass into her hands. Ice clinked against the sides as she lifted it to her lips and drank.
“Better?” he asked, as she handed it back.
She nodded and turned away. Ryder set the glass down and followed her awkward movements through the room with a thoughtful gaze. This was about more than a restless night. The tension in her posture and on her face was impossible to miss.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
Startled by his perception, Casey turned and then couldn’t hold the intensity of his gaze.
“It’s okay,” Ryder said. “Anyone would feel the same.”
“How do you know so much about what I feel?” she asked.
“Let’s just say. I’ve been there.”
“You mean you’ve been in a—”
He interrupted, and Casey got the impression that it was because he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Want me to sit with you for a while?” When she hesitated, he felt obligated to add, “No strings attached. Just one friend to another, okay?”
Her legs ached, her head was throbbing, and her eyelids were burning from lack of sleep. Maybe some company would help her to relax.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked.
His eyes darkened and his mouth quirked, just enough to make her wonder what he was really thinking.
“No, ma’am, I don’t mind a bit.”
“Then, yes, I would like some company. But just for a while, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.” He followed her into the bedroom, leaving the door wide open between the two rooms.
A muscle pulled at the side of her neck and she winced as she started to crawl into bed.
“Easy,” he said, as he helped her slide into a more comfortable position. “Want me to rub something on those stiff muscles? It might help you relax.”
“Yes, please,” Casey answered.
He disappeared into the bathroom and came out moments later with a tube of ointment. Casey’s eyes widened as the bed gave beneath his weight and she rolled over on her side, her heart racing as she bared her shoulder at his request.
She was stiff and nervous and he felt her resistance to his touch as if he’d invaded her space.
“Easy…just take it easy,” he coaxed, and laid his palm on the curve of her arm.
Casey flinched, and then when he began to move, she closed her eyes and let herself go. Gentle. His touch was so gentle. The ointment was a lubricant between his skin and hers, smoothing the way for the pressure of his fingers as he began to knead at the offending muscle.
“Oooh, that feels good,” she said with a sigh, settling into the rhythm of his touch.
Ryder clinched his jaw and tried not to think of what else could be good between them.
The room became quiet and there was nothing to hear but the slide of skin against skin and the uneven breathing of strangers who just happened to be husband and wife. Several minutes passed and Casey had been lulled into letting down her guard when Ryder spoke.
“Casey.”
Her pulse jerked, a little startled by the sound of his voice.
“What?”
His fingers curled around her shoulder, his thumb resting at the base of her neck beneath her hair.
“I’m very glad you’re okay.”
Breath caught at the back of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as tears suddenly seeped out from beneath her lashes.
“Thank you, Ryder. So am I.”
“Does your shoulder feel better?”
Her voice was just above a whisper. “Yes.”
She heard him putting the lid back on the tube of ointment and felt the bed giving beneath the movement of his body. And then she thought of the loneliness of the night and the fear that kept coming when she closed her eyes, and asked the unforgivable.
“Ryder?”
Half on and half off of the bed, he paused. “What?”
“Would you mind—” She never finished the question.
“Would I mind what?” he finally asked.
“Would you mind staying with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
She couldn’t see it, but a small smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he turned to her in the dark.
“No. honey, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Casey held her breath as the mattress yielded to the greater pressure of his body.
“Easy does it,” he whispered, and lightly rubbed her arm to let her know that he was there.
She closed her eyes and so did he, but not for the same reason.
Ryder didn’t want to think about the slender indentation of her waist so near his hand, or the gentle flare of hip just below it.
He didn’t want to remember the silky feel of her skin beneath his touch, or the way she sounded when she sighed.
She had suffered much this day, and didn’t deserve what he was thinking.
But as time wore on, he couldn’t get past wishing they were lying in bed for something other than rest.