She’d stepped onto her back porch and was shucking off her rubber boots when her phone came alive against her hip. “Hey babe,” she practically sang into the phone. “What’s got you up this early?”
His laugh was a low rumble that sent her blood to racing. “Missing you. Would you like to come over today?”
More than anything. Which was why she needed to say no. Spending every waking minute together would only make moving to London harder. “I do, but I wanted to finish off the bedroom today.” She also wanted to ask if he’d fly over for visits while she was there. The prospect of sounding needy kept her from voicing her desire almost as much as the fear he’d say no.
“Sure, I forgot,” he drawled, sounding disappointed. “I guess I should let you get to work.”
“I’ll see you tonight at your mother’s,” she quickly added. Expecting him to invest that amount of time when he had so many other obligations, seemed to border on narcissism. He had enough of that type in his life already.
“I know you can’t wait,” he chuckled. “Maybe we can slip back to the butler’s pantry.”
Nothing kept him down for long. Not even her emotional issues. “Yeah,” she began teasing him in return. “Because your mother won’t notice when twenty percent of her company disappears.” Her need to feel his body next to hers tested her resolve to keep her distance. She amended her I’ve-got-things-to-do statement. “If you want, I can come to your place tomorrow.”
She could practically hear his smile. “Awesome and I can’t wait to see you in a couple hours. Even if I’ll have to keep my hands to myself.”
After hitting the end button, Abby stuck the flowers in a vase and moved down the hall to Jackson’s old room. Three or four hours putting on the final touches and the place would be perfect. The butterfly print drapes and matching window cushions added just the right amount of whimsy. She’d also pulled the books down from the attic, thinking Ms. Griffin’s girls would enjoy them. A dozen or so boxes of children’s books lined the walls of the freshly painted room.
Several hours later, Abby had filled all the shelves she could reach without a ladder. “Darn it,” she grouched to herself. She’d taken her folding ladder to school so she could hang her students’ artwork from the ceiling. “I guess a chair will have to do.”
Dashing to the kitchen, she snagged a kitchen chair from the set she’d bought in a yard sale several years ago. Abby jiggled it to check for sturdiness. It seemed like it could hold her weight. With a stack of books under her arm, she pulled the chair toward the shelves and mounted it. The first couple trips up and down her improvised ladder went just fine then a loud snap sent her crashing to the floor.
Every bone in her body felt rattled. Even her teeth hurt where her jaw had made contact with the hard wooden floor. Thankfully, unlike the elderly woman in the commercial for emergency pendants, she actually could move. Slowly, she pulled herself to her knees and after a few deep breaths to keep down her last meal, an inventory of her injuries seemed like a good idea.
She brushed her fingers over the goose egg already forming on her forehead. Since it was only tender and her head was no longer swimming, she figured she hadn’t managed to give herself a concussion. Her wrist hadn’t fared as well since it had taken the brunt of her weight. It throbbed with every heartbeat. She gingerly pressed a finger on the bruise that was already blooming.
“Son-of-a-biscuit-eater,” she cursed. One touch was all it took for her to realize it was broken. When she’d been hoping for an excuse not to attend Katherine’s Easter dinner, this was
so
not what she had in mind.
Using the remains of the kitchen chair, she pulled herself to her feet. “Darn,” she growled as she took in the mess she’d created. On her way down she’d pulled the drapes from the window, the chair leg lay splintered across the wooden floor, and books were scattered around the room.
She rolled her eyes at the mess and made her way to the kitchen. Then she snagged a bag of frozen peas and a clean dish towel on the way to the table. After a couple of minutes of deep breaths and mumbled curses, she reached across the table for her phone and pulled up Chris’s number.
Shoot!
That wouldn’t work. By now he was probably halfway to Charleston.
She moved her finger down the list of frequently dial numbers and pushed Jackson’s. It rang five times then went to voicemail. Not wanting to freak him out, she kept her voice light. “Hey Jackson, your mom’s done something pretty stupid and I need your help. Please call me.”
While she waited for him to call her back, she peeked underneath the bag of peas. “Holy cow!” The bruising had spread and her wrist had swollen to twice its normal size. She made a call to Katie but when she got her voicemail as well she figured they were busy helping Katherine with the party.
Abby cast a glance around her tidy but empty kitchen.
Was this her future?
Abby willed the tears forming at the corners of her eyes into submission. She’d managed to take care of herself for all these years and this was no different.
It took ages for her to limp to her bedroom for shoes and her purse. By the time she made her way to the garage, perspiration had soaked her shirt. A huge part of her wanted to give up. But what choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could wait and hope her wrist healed itself. She opened the door to the car and saw her next hurdle. She’d never be able to manage to drive Grant’s car one-handed.
Defeated, she slumped on the doorstep and stared at the pearl-colored beauty.
She should have called Grant first.
Shaking her head at her own stubbornness, she reached for her phone and prayed he’d pick up.
It rang once. “Where’ve you been, my beautiful lady?” he asked, his voice laced with suggestion. He chuckled low and even with the throbbing pain in her wrist her body reacted to his words. “I know you weren’t exactly looking forward to spending time with my mother, but I was looking forward to seeing you.”
Why hadn’t she called him to begin with? He was who she really wanted right now. Realization blended with the pain in her wrist, making her voice tight. “I need you.”
In a flip of a switch the sultriness evaporated, replaced with a demand. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m hurt.”
“Where are you?” Before she had a chance to answer, he barked, “Dammit, tell me where you are.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive at his command, making her head swim. “Home,” she finally managed.
“On my way,” he growled and the line went dead.
She’d barely had time to trade the soupy peas for frozen corn and to pop in a couple Tylenol before she heard the scream of his bike. He must have broken a land speed record getting from Johns Creek to her home in Decatur. The backdoor banged hard against the wall, causing Abby to jump.
His long legs chewed up the floor in a pair of strides and suddenly he was on her. His blue eyes crackled with tension as he looked her over. He hadn’t said a word, the only sound being his deep breaths.
Abby wanted to shrink back from him. She’d never seen him angry before. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over the knot on her head.
“God, I’ve aged a hundred years since you called.”
She eased her good arm around his neck and breathed in his dark, masculine scent. “Sorry,” she whispered. After a chaste kiss on his cheek, she pulled back. “I’m pretty sure I’ve broken my wrist.” She pulled back the bag of vegetables and held her arm up for his inspection.
Touching her as if she were made of spun glass, he gently ran his fingers over the bruise. But even as gentle as he was, a hiss escaped her lips. He brushed a kiss on her fingertips and then slowly guided her to the kitchen table. He shot her a look, leaving no doubt that he wouldn’t put up with any of her nonsense. “Give me the keys to your car. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
She didn’t have the energy to raise a stink about to whom the car belonged and going to the hospital was a foregone conclusion. “They’re right here,” she answered, sliding them across the table. “I’ve just got to get my coat.”
****
The only thing that made the three hours sitting in the ER waiting room bearable was Grant’s firm shoulder for her to lean on and his non-stop caresses.
He brushed her hair back from her face and planted a kiss on her temple. “I’m mad that you didn’t call me first,” he growled low in her ear.
She took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. His work-worn palms brought back delicious memories of the last time they’d been together. Lust bloomed in her belly, giving her a momentary break from the pain. When they were done here, she had an idea for how to help him forget his anger. “Sorry,” she murmured into his shoulder.
“It’s okay. You finally came to your senses.”
She had. Grant Davis was someone she wanted in her life, in whatever shape, form, or fashion they could work out. The Atlantic Ocean wasn’t big enough to keep them apart if he was willing to make the crossing. Her independent streak wasn’t going to be a limiting factor either. She buried her face as deeply into his chest as she dared with thirty-odd people nearby. “I wish the bones in my arm were as hard as my head.”
Grant snorted a laugh loud enough to draw the stares of several people. Ignoring their audience, he cupped her chin. “I love how you make me laugh,” he told her, his blue eyes snapping with excitement.
Abby’s heart clinched. It was the first time either of them had used the L word. Did that mean he loved her? She knew she was falling in love with him. So hard it scared her.
“Abby Roberts.”
She welcomed the interruption. The ER wasn’t the location she’d envisioned when she finally worked up the courage to let those three words leave her lips. Grabbing Grant’s hand, she followed the nurse back to an examination room.
Two hours, a wrist X-ray and a CAT-scan later, Abby was crawling the walls. After the initial examination, they’d given her something for the pain, but hours later, it had worn off. “How was your week with Grace?”
He brushed back a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Don’t feel like you have to talk. I know you’re hurting.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to talk. It keeps my mind off the pain.” Her throbbing wrist wasn’t the only thing on her mind. Though she’d come to the realization she wanted to continue seeing him after she left for London, Abby needed a distraction from all the other obstacles they still had to face.
“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing a hand through her hair. When she nodded, he continued. “We had a great time, just the two of us hanging out. Her vocabulary is growing even though she still isn’t talking.”
“That’s good.”
He offered her a tender smile. “It is, but I can’t help wishing things were different.”
More than anything she wished she could ease his worry. While she knew giving him another child might alleviate one of his concerns, she wasn’t in the place to make that offer. Still, she couldn’t prevent the tide of regret washing over her. Abby turned her head so he couldn’t see her swipe at her tears.
One thing she didn’t regret at this particular second was keeping the “I love you” to herself. Fortunately, before Grant noticed her tears an orderly came to take her to the Cast Room. Abby leaned her head back on the bed and closed her eyes as he wheeled her into the hall. There was a big gap between realizing how much she loved Grant and making the leap to actually telling him.
****
What felt like an eternity later, the glass door to the ER cubical slid open, jerking Grant to attention. He dug his fists in his eyes to roust himself as the nurse wheeled Abby into the room. “They gave her a sedative to set the bone, so she’ll be groggy for a while.”
As if to prove the woman wrong, Abby perked up. “When can I go home?” she slurred.
The nurse locked the wheel chair in place and helped Abby back onto the gurney. “In a while, Ms. Roberts. I can’t let you leave till you’re more awake.”
“I’m good. Tell Jason Willoughby he gets an A from Ms. Roberts.” She eyed Grant with a lopsided grin. “Of all the orthopedic doctors in Atlanta, I had to get a former student.”
A grin played at the nurse’s lips. “I’ll be sure to tell the doctor.” Then she turned to Grant. “Is there someone who can stay with your friend when she gets home? She doesn’t have a concussion, but she’s going to be pretty sore for a few days.”
“She’s my girlfriend. I’ll be looking after her.”
Whether she wants me to or not.
Grant pulled up the thin blanket then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Lay back and rest. The medicine will wear off faster if you don’t fight it.”
Abby shook her head but halfway in her attempt to sit up she slumped back and was out. Grant clutched her good hand. “Damn stubborn woman,” he murmured.
Grant took in every inch of her while she slept. How had this force of nature tilted his world off its axis? In three months his life had gone from barebones to a beautiful, complicated mess. Leaning over the bedrail, he pressed a kiss lightly on her lips. “I love you, beautiful lady.”
Her eyes fluttered for a moment then stilled.
Thank fuck.
As much as he wanted to tell her, his gut told him she wasn’t ready to hear it.
After God only knows how long Abby stirred. “Grant,” she called weakly.
“I’m here, baby. Are you in pain?”
“No, just groggy. I don’t do pain meds well. Please tell me I haven’t been giving the staff a hard time.”
He couldn’t resist. “No more than usual.”
Abby covered her face with her cast arm. “Please take me home.”
Grant pushed the nurses’ call button. “I’m all over it, babe.”
It took another couple hours, but finally he eased the sedan onto her driveway and killed the engine. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Scooting around the front of the car, he snagged the door just as she unfastened the seatbelt. “Let me get that, will you?”
Just once he wished she’d let him take care of her without a fight. He reached across her body, unlatched the belt, and before she could wiggle her way out of the deep leather seat he scooped her into his arms.