Her eyes stayed closed. Her lips settled closed. But then she gave me the tiniest nod.
Heart aching in a way I didn’t completely understand, and yet in a way I also totally understood—because this woman had made a place in my heart in mere hours—I quietly gathered up the plate and the mug, her dirty dress and bra, and headed for the door.
“Talbot?” she said once again, just before I slipped out into the hall.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Thanks.” The word barely reached my ears.
“You’re welcome.”
I turned for the kitchen but heard her next statement all the same.
“Still not your sweetheart.”
A grin tugging up my lips, I walked down the hall, took care of the dirty dishes, and then I returned to my bedroom, making sure to leave that glass of water and bottle of pills well within reach.
Except when I started to leave again, when I tried to force my feet to take me into the hall, I found that I couldn’t leave her.
Instead, I dragged a chair from the corner of the room close to her bedside, kicked off my shoes, and then watched her sleep.
Watched her breathe.
Understanding that I’d nearly lost something very precious that evening.
Understanding that I hadn’t even been the one to save it.
She had.
And me, too.
And I didn’t even mean from the armed lunatic.
Chapter Eight
Tammy
I woke, having the sense that it was much later than I would have crawled out of bed for my theme park adventures, wincing when I shifted and stretched, my back pretty much the only comfortable part on my body.
My entire arm was on fire. My knees ached. My head pounded as I slit open my eyes.
Even they hurt, probably from the brilliant sunlight pouring in through the windows that took up one length of the huge room. I hadn’t noticed them before, seeing as it had been dark, but as I blinked against the bright light, I saw that the room faced some sort of garden space, lush greenery and colorful flowers on the other side of that glass. It really was quite beautiful, reminding me of a lush Hawaiian jungle or something.
Or maybe that was the rest of the space—all light wood and gauzy curtains. The bed had four tall posts going up toward the ceiling, connected by four wooden rails. Like the canopy bed I’d had as a kid.
Only much nicer.
Snorting, I went to put my elbows beneath me, to prop myself up in a preemptive attack to getting my body moving out of this bed, but the action had me gasping and lying back.
Pain meds first.
I turned my head, saw the promised glass of water, the bottle of pills next to it.
Inching my uninjured arm out, I snagged the bottle and was using my teeth on the child lock top when I heard.
“Need some help?”
I mean, obviously, I needed help. I was gnawing on a bottle of Oxycontin. But when I shifted, my glare already on my face in anticipation of unleashing it on Talbot, I found he wasn’t at the door to the hall.
Which drew my gaze farther across the room, past the blond-colored wood entertainment system, past the door to what I presumed was his closet, since he’d disappeared through it and reappeared with clothes the night before, past the lush garden view, and finally . . . settling onto . . .
Heaven.
No, Tammy. Not heaven. It was just—
The man was standing there in all his glory, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning against a doorway—insert more presuming here—that led to the bathroom, considering both that skimpy slip of cotton and the fact the man’s hair was wet.
I wanted to run my hands through it.
I wanted to run my hands over that chest with grabbable pecs, with carefully etched abs, my fingers tingling with so much need that they actually curled taut, making me gasp when my injured arm protested.
Making Talbot move.
He was at the bedside in an instant, taking the bottle from my hand, opening the lid, and shaking out a pill into his palm. “Open,” he ordered, and I was too dazed by the Greek god in front of me, kneeling at my side again, this time in only a towel, and in too much pain to argue.
I parted my lips, sipped at the glass when he held it up to my mouth.
“Okay?” he asked a moment later, putting the glass back down when I nodded.
“Thanks,” I said.
His fingers brushed lightly over my cheek. “I should be the one thanking you.”
“You’re still on about that, are you?” I grumbled, the pain in my arm dimming significantly with every touch of his skin against mine. Or maybe it was just some placebo effect.
Take pill. Feel better.
Even though it would take upwards of twenty minutes to be absorbed into my bloodstream.
Except, I had the creeping feeling that the whole feeling better thing came less from the placebo effect or from the touch of his skin (though both were pretty great) and more from the smile on Talbot’s face.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen one like that before.
Or at least not one like that pointed in my direction.
I’d seen Aaron give it to Maggie. I’d witnessed Pierce give it to Artie.
And now this man . . . to me.
What alternate universe had I stumbled into?
Not one that made any sense, that was for damned sure. Or maybe that was the drugs talking, maybe I had a superhuman ability to metabolize them, pain relief instantly hitting my veins, totally unimpacted by Talbot Green.
Yes, I knew I was lying.
But I also was lying in a Hollywood superstar’s bed, after having been wounded saving his life the night before, with that superstar currently kneeling next to me and stroking my cheek.
The entire scenario was like a bad script.
Probably, something that Talbot had seen plenty of.
Those fingers drifted down to my throat, brushing back and forth across the
