Chapter 9
AUTUMN
Brandon’s bed is huge. King-sized.
After the way he handled my arrival, the size of the bed fits his ego. But where does the rest of him sleep?
The golden hue flooding the room dims as the sun begins its final descent.
I move back to the window to take it in.
That view peacefully washes through me, bringing a welcome reprieve from the past few hours.
My chest feels looser, and breathing comes easier.
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to breathe like I have time to spare.
This job is coming at the right time, and despite the circumstances of my arrival, I refuse to let the patient’s attitude sway me from doing my job.
I’ve dealt with difficult patients before.
Brandon aside, with this view to wake up to, I should be grateful for the change in scenery and the slower pace, which will keep me grounded in the here and now.
I’ll take this mountain view to sterile hospital hallways any day.
What I don’t like is the sea of bland browns everywhere.
He has a whole landscape outside, the trees and ocean in the distance, and he chose to surround himself with brown.
Utterly uninspiring. Says a lot about Brandon’s dating life over the years.
The most eligible bachelor title comes to mind again.
He might be the king of his domain, but there’s not a queen’s touch to be found in this place.
The walls, the sheets and blankets, and the curtains are all in varying shades of brown, from beige to chocolate.
I want to relax into sleep, not be bored into it.
Stacking another pillow, I punch it into place, setting my thoughts on tasks to be accomplished and off the man with those incredible biceps lying on the couch in the other room. Wait . . . ugh. Don’t go there, Autumn.
I take one more peek into the bathroom to make sure the towel is where I want it and a stack of washcloths is by the sink, just in case he needs help in here.
When I walk down the hall, I hear Brandon and his mom whispering.
I don’t want to sneak up on them or have them thinking I’m an eavesdropper, so I clear my throat.
“The bedroom is set up. I think you’ll be more comfortable in there, but I can make any adjustments needed once you’re settled in bed. ”
Brandon’s eyes track me as I cross the room. “What is the protocol?”
“For?” I ask, sitting on a barstool.
“You being here.”
His mom stands from the chair where she’s been keeping him company, and weaves around the coffee table.
“I need to get going before it’s too dark or I’ll be stuck here.
” She comes to the kitchen peninsula and grabs her handbag.
Looking at me, she says, “That stretch of dirt road is not my friend in broad daylight, much less at night.”
There’s just enough glow coming up from the distance to give some light, but it’s fading fast. I stand and start to walk with her to the door. “A bit treacherous. Will you be safe?”
“I will, dear, thank you. And thank you for coming to take care of Brandon.” At the door, she lowers her voice and whispers, “He won’t show it, but he appreciates the help.”
I grin, glancing at him. Nothing about his sourpuss expression makes me think he’s amused by what she said, if he heard her. Looking back at her, I whisper, “Don’t worry. I’m used to difficult patients.”
She looks back once more to her son. “Autumn’s here to help. Listen to the professional. Love you.”
He replies, “Love you, too, Mom,” as she walks out the door.
“Good to see you again, Brenda.” I shut the door, then lean my back against it. “Time to party.”
Horror crosses his face as soon as his mouth opens. “What?”
I laugh, returning to the living room. “I’m just kidding. You know, your parent is gone, so I thought I’d make a joke.” I’m still grinning but mutter under my breath, “You’re no fun.”
“I’m fun.” Oops, guess he heard me.
Sitting in the chair to face him, I shrug. “Don’t have to prove anything to me.”
His brown eyes stay on mine as he watches me like I’m about to do a magic trick. “You’re different than you were at the hospital.”
This should be good. I rest back, making myself at home since it will be for the next week. “How so?”
He drags his gaze to the knee I’ve lifted and then lowers it to the other foot resting on the floor. “Relaxed.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No, just different.” Sliding down the arm of the couch, he leans his head against a cushion. I’m sure he’s tired, so I don’t know why he’s forcing himself to stay awake.
“Well, I was working at the hospital where whispers and warnings go hand in hand.” I glance behind him, met with the remaining minutes of daylight in the distance, before looking around his house. “Here, it’s just us.”
His lids become heavier, and he stifles a yawn. “Yeah, just us. So what do we do now?”
“Your mom mentioned that you already ate dinner, but I didn’t have time before coming over.”
A long dip of his eyelids has me wondering whether I should go ahead and move him to the bed or let him nap where he is. I’m wide awake, so there’s no harm in letting him rest on the couch. I didn’t see a TV in his room, so if he wakes up later, I’ll have to help him return to the living room.
He exhales slowly like he just got something off his chest, managing to turn his gaze on me again. “She brought over a lasagna. She makes the best. Help yourself.”
My stomach growls in response, filling me with an unwarranted embarrassment. Everyone eats. I’m not unique like that. “Sounds good. Thanks.” I stand, taking the remote from the table and setting it within his reach. Kneeling beside him, I ask, “How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?”
“My head is heavy.” He sports a sudden smirk. “And my shoulder is giving me some trouble since I was tackled earlier, but it’s all a part of the healing process.”
“Ha. Ha.” My sarcasm kicks in. “You’re so funny.” I earn a chuckle from the sleepyhead. It actually sounds genuine, too. “I’ll get you a pill to help with the pain.”
He closes his eyes, mumbling, “Thanks.”
Maybe if we can ease the pain he’s feeling, he’ll be less of a pain to take care of and learn to trust me. I grab a napkin and dispense the pills into it, then fill a glass with water. When I return to the couch, I find Brandon already asleep. That’s good.
I place the napkin on the coffee table for when he wakes again and pad back into the kitchen to eat. I’m starving and won’t be good for anyone if I don’t eat.
Heating the lasagna in the microwave makes me realize I can hear the appliance.
It’s usually too noisy at home. The quiet here is impressive, almost as if nothing else in the world existed.
It’s dark outside, but there’s no need for privacy since no one else lives nearby, so I leave the blinds open.
The beep of the microwave has me jumping to pop the door before it continues.
A glance at my patient confirms he’s still asleep, and I relax.
Standing at the counter, I blow on a bite as I look back over at him.
He’s a big guy, his body stretching along the couch.
His slightly reclined position is the only reason his legs fit.
It’s been hard to miss how defined each of his muscles is, from his abs to his biceps.
He’s built for lifting heavy equipment like hoses, people, or whatever else firefighters need to carry.
The fire station is small, and I imagine, much like a family.
I wonder how they’re getting along without him.
Every bite of Brenda’s lasagna is a burst of flavor the second it hits my tongue. Garlic and cheese melding with sausage that I know must be from Saint Clary’s Butcher Shop north of downtown. I close my eyes and relish each bite, trying to identify every ingredient as it melts in my mouth.
Dolly is a great cook, but Italian food isn’t her specialty.
Before I can stop myself, I release a moan, savoring the delectable flavor.
My eyes pop open, and I peek around the cabinet to make sure I didn’t wake him.
He shifts, leaving me holding my breath, and I watch as his face relaxes into a deeper sleep. So handsome.
I steal another forkful from the casserole dish before packing the lasagna away, contemplating where my thoughts just went.
Is that the real rub? Brandon Culver was always so attractive that it made me feel special by association.
He chose me, or so I thought. There’s no sting following the reminiscence.
His being injured has softened the humiliation enough to see him in a new light.
Currently, the dim glow of a lamp in the corner provides enough light to see, but not enough to keep him awake.
Since he’s doing okay, I wander into the spare bedroom where I’m staying.
The view matches his during the day, but I close the blinds, not wanting to be woken up at the crack of dawn.
Digging through my bag, I curse when I realize I was so quick to throw in scrubs but forgot most everything else.
I did remember my toothbrush, though. As for toothpaste, I sneak down the hall into his bathroom and load the bristles before tiptoeing through the bedroom.
“Ack!” A tall figure stands in the shadows of the doorway. Brandishing my toothbrush, I jab it in the midsection and run down the hall to Brandon under the echoing groans behind me. “Wake up, Brand—oh no!”
I stop my feet so fast that I tip forward, waving my arms to hold my balance. Turning around, I ask, “Brandon, is that you?”
“What the fuck, Autumn?”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.” With the light behind me, it’s hard to see anything other than a figure brought to its knees. Rushing back to him, I say, “Logic didn’t kick in, and I thought I was being attacked.”
He groans louder and looks up at me. “Attacked by your patient who happens to live here?”
I shrug, though I doubt he can see it. Swinging my arm wide, I stammer, “Well, um, you were wandering around in the dark—”
“In my own house.”
When my eyes finally adjust to the low light drifting in through the bedroom, I hope to high heavens I didn’t leave him worse off than how I found him.
“Valid point. Sorry, I’m used to a house full of noisy people who stomp around on creaky wood floors.
It’s so quiet here. I didn’t hear you and didn’t expect you to be walking around.
I thought you were still asleep.” I drop to my knees and cup his face with my hands. “Look at me, Brandon.”
His gaze flows from the floor to meet mine, and each harsh breath of his softens. The lack of bright light can’t hide the way his eyes caress me, as if his fingertips were tracing the lines of my face. My heart beats harder, and I part my lips to take in a bigger breath.
I turn away under the discomfort of the weight of that silent exchange. Standing, I release him and drag my palms down the sides of my legs. On the intake of a sharp breath, I say, “I think you’re going to live.”
“Tell that to my abs.”
Leaning down, I say, “You’re going to live,” and walk back toward the living room. “But you’re probably going to need some pain meds now.”
Every step back toward the living room is a struggle for him, but he insists despite my objections. He stops short of the couch. Holding his hand over his stomach, he says, “What were you doing anyway?”
“In your room?” My voice pitches, revealing my guilt without evidence. His brows pull together as he stares at me like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or call the hospital on me again. “I packed in a rush and forgot my toothpaste.”
“So you stole my toothpaste?”
“I didn’t steal your toothpaste. I borrowed some.”
“Borrowed?” He moves to the couch and sits down, still holding his side like he was stabbed.
Technically, he was. “I don’t need it back.
” He takes the glass of water, taking a sip to chase the meds.
He finds me standing on the other side of the coffee table, and adds, “I was expecting to get help, but this isn’t how I imagined home healthcare worked. ” He’s not wrong.
I’m screwing this up. I’ve already “tackled” him as he put it, and now I’ve brought him to his knees by wounding him with a hygienic tool.
Not how I prefer to bring a man to his knees.
“It’s different for everyone, but I haven’t made it easy.
I’m sorry for stabbing you with my toothbrush and for not making this easier on you, which is in my actual job description. ”
He chuckles but winces. “Stabbing your patients with toothbrushes is in your job description?”
“More the latter part.” I laugh lightly, still feeling like a failure for how this first night has gone. “I know it doesn’t make this any better, but you’re my first as well.” A flash of that first kiss strikes like lightning in my head.
Cocking a brow, he asks, “Oh yeah?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. “Don’t even go there.”
He nods, but a roguish grin is still splitting his cheeks. “I’m probably not a good first.” You’re telling me . . . “A few injuries don’t warrant round-the-clock care.”
“Your doctors disagree, and your insurance already approved the services.” Sitting down on the couch with a cushion between us, I release a sigh and then grimace.
“I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m the only nurse available in Mountain Laurel Cove.
So how about we start over since you’re stuck with me? ”
His eyes have fallen back to the glass he set on the table in front of him. “Until?”
I look at him, following the straight of his nose to the edge of his jawline. Scruff covers the Cliffs of Culver leading down his neck to the bandaging that doesn’t cover the entirety of his injury. “Until you’re better.”
Shifting his gaze my way, he releases his own heavy breath, his shoulders falling with it. “Let’s hope that’s sooner for both of us.”
Remembering what happened in the past didn’t sting earlier, but for some reason, that comment does. I push off the arm of the couch and raise my chin. “We can only hope. Now, let’s get you to bed.”