“Probably not. He’s stubborn that way.”
“No, he’ll tell you this. I promise.”
“You’ll beat him up for me if he doesn’t?” That was an old Dad-joke, that he’d beat up any man who made any of his girls unhappy. That’s why I didn’t tell him about Jason kissing Jenni, because I figured in that case he would really do it.
“No, but I’ll beat him up if he hurts you.”
Reassured, I said good-bye and turned to find Wyatt leaning against the cabinets with his arms crossed, regarding me with amusement. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“He said you would, and that he’d beat you up if you didn’t.” So I stretched the truth a little. Wyatt hadn’t been able to hear what Dad had actually said.
“It wasn’t anything bad.” Straightening, he went to the refrigerator. “How about some breakfast? That’s the fastest thing I can do. Eggs, bacon, toast.”
“That sounds great. What can I do to help?”
“With that arm, not much. Sit down and stay out of the way. That’ll be a big help.”
I sat, and looked around the breakfast nook and kitchen while he got out what he needed and started the bacon cooking in the microwave. To my surprise, the kitchen looked kind of old. The appliances were top-notch and fairly new and there was an island with a cooktop occupied the center, but the room itself had that solid, established feel to it.
“How old is this house?”
“Turn of the century. The last century. So it’s a little over a hundred years old. It was a farmhouse, and it’s been remodeled a couple of times. When I bought it, I did a major remodeling, tore down some interior walls, opened it up for a more modern look, added a couple of bathrooms. There are three bathrooms upstairs, a half bath down here. It’s a nice-size house, a little over three thousand square feet. I’ll show you around tomorrow.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Four. There used to be six small ones, with just one bathroom, so I took that extra space to make the other bathrooms and enlarge the bedrooms and closets. That’ll make it easier to sell if I ever decide to move.”
“Why would you?” That was a lot of room for just one person, but from what I could see, there was a nice, homey feel to it. The kitchen cabinets were a warm golden color, the countertops were a greenish granite, and the floor was polished pine with colorful rugs strewn about. It wasn’t a fancy kitchen, despite the granite, but one that looked well-arranged and comfortable.
He shrugged. “This is my hometown and I’m comfortable here, plus this is where my family is, but a better job may open up somewhere else. You never know. I may spend the rest of my life here; I may not.”
It was a sensible outlook and one I held myself. I loved my home, but who knew what might happen? A smart person was flexible.
In short order he had plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast set on the table, with glasses of milk poured for both of us. He also opened the bottle of antibiotic pills and put two of them beside my plate, plus one of the pain relievers.
I didn’t fuss about taking the pain reliever. I’m no idiot. I wanted to quit hurting.
By the time I finished eating, I was yawning. Wyatt rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher, then plucked me out of my chair and sat down in it himself, with me in his lap.
“What?” I asked, surprised by my perch. I’m not much for sitting on men’s laps-it strikes me as ungainly-but Wyatt was tall enough that our faces were level and his arm around my back was wonderfully supporting.
“Your dad said that when you get scared, you get mouthy. How mouthy and demanding you get is in direct proportion to how scared you are.” His big hand rubbed my back. “He said it’s how you cope until you aren’t as scared anymore.”
It’s no secret in my family, that’s for sure. I let myself lean against him. “I was petrified.”
“All except for your mouth.” He chuckled. “Here we were, conducting a search for an armed murderer, and I hear you behind the car loudly demanding a cookie.”
“I wasn’t loud.”
“You were loud. I thought I’d have to kick my men’s asses to make them stop snickering.”
“It’s tough to get my mind around the fact that someone tried to kill me. It’s impossible. Things like that just don’t happen. I live a nice, quiet life, and within the space of a few days everything has turned upside down. I want my nice, quiet life back. I want you to catch this guy, and do it now.”
“We will. We’ll get this nailed. MacInnes and Forester were working all weekend, following leads. They have a couple of good ones.”
“Is it Nicole’s boyfriend?”
“I can’t say.”
“You don’t know, or you literally can’t say?”
“I literally can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.” He kissed my temple. “Let’s get you upstairs and tucked into bed.”
It’s a good thing I fully expected him to take me to his bedroom instead of one of the guest rooms, because that’s exactly what he did. I could have walked, even gone up the stairs, but he seemed to want to carry me around and, hey, why not? He set me down in the roomy master bathroom, with its double vanity, garden tub, and large shower. “I’ll get your bag. The towels and washcloths are in there,” he said, pointing to the door of the linen closet.
I got a towel and washcloth, and managed to untie the neck of the hospital gown with just my right hand. I couldn’t manage the second tie, though, which was halfway down my back. Didn’t matter. I let the huge thing drop off of me, and stepped out of the circle of fabric.
I surveyed my half-naked form in the mirror. Ugh. My left arm was mostly orange with Betadine, but there were still dried streaks of blood on my back and under my arm. I wet the washcloth and had removed all the blood I could reach by the time Wyatt returned. He took the cloth from me and finished the job, then helped me out of the rest of my clothes. It was a good thing I had gotten used to being naked with him, or I’d have been embarrassed. I looked longingly at the shower, but that was off-limits. The tub, though, was an option. “I could take a tub bath,” I said with obvious hope.
He didn’t even argue. Instead he ran the water, and helped me into it. While I was happily soaking, he stripped down himself and took a quick shower.
I leaned back in the tub and watched as he stepped out and toweled dry. A naked Wyatt Bloodsworth was a fine sight, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped, with long, muscled legs and a very nice package. Even better, he knew how to use that package.
“Have you finished lolling around?” he asked.
I can loll with the best of them, but I had finished bathing, so I nodded and he helped me to stand, then steadied me to make certain I didn’t slip as I stepped out of the big tub. I could have dried myself one- handed, maybe a bit awkwardly, but he took the towel and gently wiped me down, then got my toiletries out of the duffel so I could tone and moisturize. Skin care is important, even when a murderer is after you.
I had a T-shirt to sleep in, but when I dug it out, I saw that no way was it going to go over the bulk of that huge bandage, not to mention I couldn’t lift my arm to put it on anyway.
“I’ll get one of my shirts,” Wyatt said, and disappeared into the big walk-in closet that opened off the bedroom. He came back with a button-up white dress shirt, and gently worked the sleeve up over my arm. The shirt hung halfway down my thighs, and the shoulder seams drooped down my arms. He had to put three turns into the cuffs before my hands poked out. I turned in front of the mirror and checked out the fit. I just love the way men’s shirts look on women.
“Yes, you look hot,” he said, smiling. He slipped his hand under the shirt and rested it on my bare butt. “If you’re a good girl for the rest of the night, tomorrow I’ll kiss your neck and make you happy.”
“No neck kissing. Remember our deal. We aren’t having sex again.”
“That’s your deal, not mine.” Then he picked me up and took me to bed. He settled me
