He stopped pacing and glowered at Justine. “Look,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to get close to her. I don’t want her to depend on me.”
Justine gave him a narrow-eyed glance that should have slayed him on the spot. “Are you really
“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Have I ever pretended to be normal?”
Justine made a sound of disgust. “You know what? I’m sorry I asked. My mistake.”
Sam scowled as she turned away. “What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about it. Not your problem.”
“Who are you calling?” he insisted.
“Duane. He and his friends will take care of her.”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to give a wounded woman on medication to
“They’re good guys. They have their own church.”
Instant fury sent hot blood to his face. “Having your own church doesn’t make you a good guy. It only makes you tax-exempt.”
“Don’t shout at me.”
“I’m not shouting.”
“I wouldn’t call that your inside voice, Sam.” Justine lifted her phone and tapped on the small screen.
“No,” he growled.
“No, what?”
Sam took a deep breath, yearning to put his fist through a wall. “I’ll—” He broke off and cleared his throat roughly, and gave her a wrathful glance. “I’ll take her.”
“To your house,” she clarified.
“Good. Thank you. My God, all this drama.” Shaking her head, Justine went to the vending machine and punched some buttons to get a drink.
* * *
Lucy blinked in bewilderment as Sam Nolan came through the curtain partitions. “What are you doing here?” she asked faintly.
“Justine called me.”
“She shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
His gaze slid over her, not missing a detail. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and gruff. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s not bad.” Lucy gestured to the IV bag. “They’ve got me on some kind of narcotic something-or-other.” Fretfully she added, “There’s a needle in my hand.”
“We’ll get you out of here soon.”
She focused on Sam’s T-shirt, dark blue with the printed white outlines of what looked like an old-fashioned telephone booth. “What is the phone booth for?”
“Police box. From
The shadow of a smile crossed her lips. “Geek,” she said, and blew her nose.
Drawing closer, Sam settled his hand on her hip, exploring the outlines of a polyurethane bandage, adjusting the drape of the hospital blanket over her splinted leg. There was something oddly proprietary about the way he touched her. Lucy stared at him in bewilderment, trying to fathom what was the matter with him. He had the air of a man who was facing an unpleasant duty.
“You look angry,” she said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re clenching your jaw.”
“That’s the way my jaw always looks.”
“Your eyes are glaring.”
“It’s the hospital lighting.”
“Something’s going on,” she insisted.
Sam took her icy hand in his, careful not to dislodge the pulse oximeter that had been clamped to her forefinger. His thumb rubbed lightly over the backs of her fingers. “For the next few days, you’re going to need someone to help you out. This is more than you can handle on your own.” A measured pause. “So I’m going to take you to Rainshadow Road with me.”
Lucy’s eyes widened, and she tugged her hand from his. “No. I …
Sam turned quietly ruthless. “Where are you planning to go, Lucy? The inn? Being closed off in a room by yourself with no one to help you? Even if Zoл and Justine didn’t have a big event going on this weekend, they’d still have a hard time getting you up and down all those stairs.”
Lucy pressed a clammy palm to her head, which had begun to ache fiercely. “I … I’ll call my parents.”
“They’re at least a thousand miles away.”
She was so worried and depleted that she felt her throat tighten against a new threat of tears. Appalled by her lack of control, she put her hand over her eyes and made a frustrated sound. “You’re too busy. The vineyard—”
“My crew will cover for me.”
“What about your brother and Holly?”
“They won’t mind. It’s a big house.”
As she began to comprehend the situation, Lucy realized that Sam would be helping her with bathing, eating, dressing—intimacies that would be embarrassing even with someone she had known for a long time. And he didn’t look any happier about the situation than she was.
“There’s got to be another solution,” Lucy said, trying desperately to think. She drew in an extra breath, and another, unable to get enough air into the tightening confines of her lungs.
“Damn it, don’t start hyperventilating.” Sam’s hand settled on her chest, rubbing a slow circle. The familiarity of the gesture caused her to gasp.
“I haven’t given you the right—” she began unsteadily.
“For the next few days,” Sam said, his lashes lowering to conceal his expression, “you’ll have to get used to having my hands on you.” The circling motion continued, and Lucy subsided helplessly. To her mortification, a little coughing sob escaped her. She closed her eyes. “You’re going to let me take care of you,” she heard him say. “Don’t waste your breath arguing. The fact is, you’re coming home with me.”
Thirteen
It was early evening by the time Sam’s pickup turned onto Rainshadow Road and proceeded along the private drive. He had signed all of Lucy’s release forms, collected a sheaf of medical instructions and prescriptions, and had accompanied Lucy as an RN had taken her outside in a wheelchair. Justine had been there too, her manner gratingly cheerful.
“Well, kids,” she had chirped, “this is going to turn out fine. Sam, I owe you. Lucy, you’ll love Sam’s house—it’s a great place—and someday, I guarantee we’ll all look back on this and— What did you say, Sam?”
“I said, ‘Shove it, Justine,’” he muttered, gathering Lucy up from the
