Chapter 4
FOUR
Dutch
I woke with heat against my face and hot breath against my knee.
That didn’t make sense in the least.
When I opened one eye, my face was turned toward the fireplace. Roasting, I pushed away the blanket, startled when the dog from earlier popped up off the couch like I’d kicked him. I frowned when he slunk away from me and curled up in front of the fireplace, hiding his nose under his tail.
Annoyed that I immediately wanted to apologize to the mutt, I sat up.
I instantly regretted it as pain radiated up my leg.
I tugged the blanket off my foot and hissed.
My ankle was definitely three times the size it should be.
I pushed myself up gingerly and knocked into a pill bottle with my elbow.
A bottle of water sat on the end table next to the pills.
Phoebe—I think that was her name.
I shook four out and downed them, then finished the rest of the water.
I was parched and my head throbbed. I caught a flash out of the corner of my eye.
She was still here. And she was holding a wooden spoon up like a microphone as she wiggled in front of the stove silently singing to something I couldn’t hear.
I squinted and realized she was wearing my headphones.
I collapsed back in my nest of pillows and blankets. The whole house smelled spicy and warm.
My stomach roared in reaction and my recalcitrant cock twitched as her hips rolled in time to whatever beat she was listening to.
Between the fall outside and distraction with the movers, I hadn’t really gotten a good look at her.
Okay, there had been a full body check when she’d helped me inside, but the pain, cold, and multiple layers between us had shielded most of her.
She was a tiny thing, that much I remembered. And shockingly strong for someone who barely reached my chin.
The shapeless hoodie hid everything until she lifted her arms and the expanse of her golden skin along her lower back made me swallow my tongue.
Her waist nipped in then flared out to an ass that should be illegal.
Especially with how she moved. The dip of her spine where it disappeared into the. ..were those pajama pants?
I frowned. Hedgehogs?
Dear God, how old was she?
I shut my eyes for a moment, but I couldn’t resist another peek. The waistband was rolled down a few times and still the frayed hem pooled down around her feet, showing off bare toes.
Fuck.
I needed to stop freaking looking at her.
Based on how her hips were moving, I wasn’t sure I could handle her music.
She froze with her arms in the air. “Oh, hey. You’re awake,” she shouted as she stirred whatever was on the stove, recovering my Dutch oven. She licked her thumb, then pulled off my headphones and set them on top of a box.
“Uh, yeah.” I glanced out the window to see the snow was sticking to the glass.
A gust picked up and the mix of ice and snow rattled the glass.
The sky was a pale orange, pregnant with more snow.
Add in whatever amazing thing was on the stove and it threatened to lure me into a dangerous contentment.
Pushing that thought away, I moved my foot and the zip of pain reminded me why I was in this predicament.
“Hope you don’t mind. I was getting hungry. Figured you were too.” She hurried into the living room. “We should probably wrap you up before you’re completely immobile. Did you take some Advil?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
She stopped over to see the dog first, kissing his nose extravagantly and scratching his ears. “Aren’t you the bestest boy,” she cooed.
“You let him stay?”
She paused. “You thought I was going to put him out in that?” She stood up and went to the window. “There’s at least a foot of snow and ice out there.”
“No.”
“Good, because if you said yes I was about to take that chicken potato soup home with me.”
“You made it with my food.”
“You can bill me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her green eyes snapping with indignation.
Annoyed that she was still in my space and I didn’t hate it, I shut my mouth. Because damn, it did smell good. And she did help me out. I wasn’t sure why she did, but even I couldn’t be that much of an asshole.
“Is there a reason you’re so salty? Can’t you just save it for the soup?”
My lips twitched, but I didn’t smile. It was a damn close thing.
“Tough crowd.” She rolled her eyes and sat on the coffee table beside my foot.
I immediately braced and tried to move it away.
“C’mon. I need to see it.”
“Are you a nurse too?”
“No, but I have seen a million sprains, remember?”
I frowned, vaguely remembering her saying something about a brother. “Hockey?”
“Yep. The delirium wasn’t that serious, I see. Some sleep and a fireplace does the brain good.”
“Body.”
“You don’t need any help there.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“You know full well you’re attractive. No one has that level of muscle tone without knowing their body is bangin’.”
I cleared my throat, but kept quiet.
Working out kept me from losing my mind. Punishing myself on the rowing machine and kettle bells kept me grounded when the dark thoughts were too much.
“I think your brain is more in need of help. You’re grumpy and full of pain—and I’m not talking about your ankle.”
I clenched my jaw. Did she actually see it? Sometimes it felt like a black cloud was following me.
“Don’t get your shorts in a twist. You don’t have to share, but I can tell.”
“It’s none of your business,” I gritted out.
“That’s fair. But I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not. So just accept it.” She reached for the first aid kit on the coffee table. “Now, let’s get you wrapped up.”
“It’s fine.”
“It will be.” With gentle fingers, she poked at me and I managed only a hiss. “Since you didn’t scream or faint on the way up to the house, I imagine it’s not broken. You should probably get it x-rayed if it’s not better in a few days.”
I said nothing, just fisted my hands tighter at my sides.
“Okay, tough guy.” She efficiently wrapped it up so fast, I knew she wasn’t lying about her brother. And the fact that it immediately felt much better with the compression annoyed me further.
“Let’s get your foot up on the couch so we can elevate it.
” She started fussing with pillows and propped me up, then tucked me in for fuck’s sake.
Her honey and snow scent made me just as hungry as the stupid food on the stove.
“There we go, Porkie.” She patted my head.
“Sit tight and I’ll make you a bowl of soup. ”
“Stop calling me Porkie.”
“Maybe I will when you stop acting like your brethren.” She grinned at me and a dimple dented her right cheek.
I tried to ignore her, but my gaze kept straying over to her as she moved around the kitchen like it was her own.
My stomach roared at the fragrant steam that exploded out of my Dutch oven as she lifted the cover.
Even from across the room the delicious herbs rolled out like a siren’s song.
Instead of a normal bowl, she walked over with a gravy boat shaped like a turkey. How the hell had she found that?
“Sorry, I couldn’t find your bowls. I did find a surprising array of animal dishware in a box, though.”
I hadn’t realized I’d packed it with the cross-country dishes. Another reminder of Christopher. The random and ridiculous kitchen items had been his favorite gag gift every Christmas. I stared at the warped waddle pointing at me.
“Have to admit, the kitchy items don’t seem you at all.”
“They were gifts. You can have them.”
She arched her brow. “Why?” At my scowl, she sighed. “Have anything to do with the breakup box of scraps I found in the hall?”
Shit. She found that? I probably looked like a damn psycho. “Something like that.”
“Can you sit up?”
“I’m not a child.”
I noticed a little gold hoop at the arch of her right brow as she bent toward me. “So he says like a bratty two-year-old.”
I struggled up and accepted the turkey gravy bowl with a plaid towel wrapped around it so it wouldn’t burn me.
She tucked a pillow behind me. “I pretty much used the whole rotisserie chicken you had in there. Sorry about that.”
I ladled up a spoonful. “Forgiven,” I mumbled around the creamy soup.
“What was that?” She gave me an expectant look.
“It’s delicious,” I said with resignation.
“I know.” She winked and turned on her heel. She came back with a perfectly normal bowl, laughter dancing in her green eyes as she sat at the end of the couch with a towel of her own.
“Couldn’t find bowls, huh?”
“My bad.” She dug in and hummed out a delighted groan. “Is there anything better than soup on a freezing cold day?”
I couldn’t disagree, so I kept my damn mouth shut and kept eating.
The dog whined, but didn’t move from his position in front of the fire.
“Oh, sorry, boy.” She popped up and set her bowl on the end table.
She ran to the kitchen, that ass jiggling enough to darken my mood again.
She came back with a little baggie. “I kept some for you, too.” She lowered to her knees in front of the dog and gently fed him each morsel, praising him each time he took it from her with gentle licks to her fingers.
My chest tightened at the innate kindness that lived inside of her.
She ruffled his ears and kissed his nose, then wrinkled her nose. “You need a bath.”
The dog’s tail thumped.
She grinned. “Let me eat my soup first.”
“You are not bathing that mutt in my house.”
“Fine. I’ll take him to mine.” She plopped on the end of the couch, tugged the end of the blanket over her lap and picked up her bowl.
“Good. He’s not staying here.”
“Heard loud and clear, Porkie.”
“Stop calling me that,” I growled.
“Eat your soup.”
I resumed eating because the soup was too good, especially since it finally warmed me up. The only sounds were the tap of silverware and occasional slurp between us.
The silence was actually nice. Much better than the echo chamber of my own mind lately.