He snaked his left hand out and curled his palm around her waist. He slid his fingers slowly, deliberately over the curve of her hip, stopping at the pocket of her jeans and tracing the contours of the bulge inside. “So why did you need the keys to my truck, then?”
She dropped her gaze, knowing she had no good answer.
He let go of her and stepped back, throwing up a hand to catch the wall as he struggled with his balance. His voice shook when he spoke. “I guess the more pertinent question is, why didn’t you run when you had the chance? I was dead to the world. Would have been so easy.”
She pushed her hair away from her face, surprised to find her hand trembling. She could still feel the phantom heat of his hand on her hip. Pulling the keys from her pocket, she licked her dry lips and handed them to Joe. “Where would I go? I don’t know anyone outside of Trinity. I don’t know any
“I have a feeling you could adapt.”
“I didn’t want to leave you,” she blurted, forcing her gaze up to meet his.
For a second, she thought she saw a flicker of pleasure dart across his expression, but it was gone before she could be sure what she saw. He put his keys in the pocket of his jeans and started to pick up a piece of wood.
She put her hand over his, stopping him. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing.
“I’ll get it. You’re still a little weak.” She tucked a couple of pieces of wood under her arm and cupped his elbow to help him inside the cabin.
He shrugged her off. “I’m fine.”
She let him go ahead of her, watching with concern as he made his way on wobbly legs. He was also looking pale and a little glassy-eyed. He half fell onto the bed when he reached the bedroom, and she made quick work of feeding the fire in the woodstove so she could get back to him.
She sat on the edge of the bed next to him and helped him out of the suede jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was hot and dry to the touch. “I think you may have a fever.”
“It’s not a bad one.”
She cupped his cheek, not liking the heat rising off his skin. “I’m not so sure.”
“I probably just need something to eat.” He started to push up off the bed, but she gently pressed him back into the pillows.
“I’ll get you something to eat in a minute. Let’s check your temperature first.” She retrieved the first-aid kit stored in the bathroom medicine cabinet and put the thermometer in his mouth. “We probably need to change your bandage, and I’d rather do that on an empty stomach if you don’t mind.”
She saw his lips quirk around the thermometer, and she darted him a tentative smile in response. His smile faded, replaced by a furrow in his brow. She sighed and crossed to the window, looking out at the trees beyond the cabin.
She felt his gaze on her, acutely aware of the tension that hung in the air like a heavy mist. The taut silence seeped into her pores, chilling her bone-deep.
She broke the quiet. “I saw a couple of wolves this morning. They’re making a comeback here, or so they say. They were beautiful.” She turned to look at him. He was watching her, his eyes slightly narrowed.
She crossed to the bed and removed the thermometer. Her heart sank at the reading.
“That bad?” he asked.
“A hundred and two.” She shook down the thermometer.
“So give me some aspirin.”
She shook her head. “That’s not going to be enough.” She put the thermometer back in its case and set it on the bedside table. “You need antibiotics.”
He pushed himself up in the bed, trying to hide a grimace of pain. “Maybe I just need to eat something. Where’d you put our stash of supplies?”
“In the kitchen.” She put her hand on his shoulder as he started to get up. He was scalding hot to the touch. “In a minute. Let me take a look at your wound. Unbutton your shirt.”
He unfastened the buttons, his gaze locked with hers. “I’ll have to add nursing to your list of known skills.”
“I have a list of known skills?”
One corner of his mouth notched upward. “You’re a kick-ass poker player.”
“Well, that might come in handy when we run out of money,” she murmured, helping him shrug the shirt off. She gestured for him to turn his injured side to her. Gingerly, she removed the tape holding the sanitary napkin in place. The pad was heavy with blood, but the bleeding had stopped for now.
“I’m going to have to clean it a bit, but it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did last night.”
“Easy for you to say.”
She ignored the wry comeback and went to the bathroom for a clean washcloth and some antibacterial soap. She returned with the cloth and another sanitary napkin. There were only a couple left in the package. She’d need to find a store nearby and do some shopping sometime today.
She cleaned the dried blood away from the bullet wound, wincing at his soft gasps of pain. “Sorry…sorry.”
“Where’s the whiskey?” he gritted through clenched teeth. But as she reached for the bottle she’d left on the bedside table, he caught her wrist. “Just joking. I’m okay. Just get it done.”
He let go of her wrist and she resumed her cleaning job. She didn’t like the angry red color of the flesh around the torn skin. “I think it’s getting infected.”
“So put some ointment on it.”
She was already pulling the small tube from the first-aid kit, but she shook her head as she dabbed a liberal dollop of the ointment into the open wound. “I don’t think it’s going to be enough. You need antibiotics.”
“That takes a prescription.”
“We need to find a doctor, then.”
He shook his head. “They have to report gunshot wounds to the cops, and I don’t yet know which cops around here I can trust. I’m pretty sure we’ve already been betrayed once.”
She placed the clean sanitary napkin over the wound and taped it in place. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can ignore, Joe.”
“We can talk about it over breakfast.” He shrugged his shirt on again and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed.
“No, you stay here.” She stilled him with a touch. “I’ll get the food. We have some bread and peanut butter- how about a sandwich? Not much of a breakfast, but-”
“That’s fine,” he gritted, easing back against the headboard. “Don’t suppose this place has a coffeemaker?”
“I don’t think you need to drink anything hot, anyway.” She released his shoulder. “Might raise your temperature more.”
He caught her arm as she started to go, his calloused thumb moving lightly over the soft flesh of her inner wrist. She turned to look at him and was surprised to see a hint of vulnerability in his gray eyes. “I appreciate your worrying about me. I do. But I’m tough. I’ll be okay. I’ll take some aspirin or something after we eat and the fever will go right down. You’ll see.”
She didn’t bother arguing. She could tell he already had his mind made up. Talk wouldn’t make him budge. But she didn’t think aspirin or ibuprofen was going to be enough to get his fever down. It had come on too quickly to be anything easily fixed.
She’d just have to take matters into her own hands.
Chapter Six
The River Lodge Diner’s lunch crowd had been brisk, but by one, the bustle of activity had begun to wind down. Only a handful of locals remained at the diner counter, nursing cups of coffee and chatting.
On his stool at the end of the counter, Clint had a ringside seat for the hick-town follies, taking in the latest gossip, from fisticuffs at the local churches to salacious speculation about the new high school football coach and
