toothbrush.”
“Sure.” Nick found a new toothbrush, put a candle on the bathroom sink, and brought her a glass of water, “For your teeth. Don’t flush. I’ll do it before bed.”
<>
Two hours later, Cara sat at the kitchen counter while Nick made her something to eat. He handed her more pain pills and offered his bed for the night. It was a generous offer, but she couldn’t take his bed. She didn’t think she could lie down anyway. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll sleep in the chair tonight.”
“Sure, if you’re more comfortable there. If you need to get up, call me. I sleep hard, so keep hollering.”
His relaxed, friendly manner made her feel as if they’d been friends for years. She wondered why this warm, considerate guy lived alone. He said he was divorced. Why would a woman walk away from a man like Nick?
On the verge of tears, Cara breathed deeply to try to gain control over the pain. “Nick, would you check my leg, please? It feels like the bandage came loose.”
Nick arranged the pillows and she settled in the recliner again. He put the leg rest up and carefully pushed the sweatpants up to check her leg. “Aw shit! It’s swelling. I should have watched it closer.”
He put antibiotic ointment and a clean bandage on the gash and pulled the tape tight. “It’s probably too late to stitch it up now. Damn! You’re gonna have a big scar.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does.” He eased the back of the chair down a little. “Comfortable?”
“I’m okay.” If only she were. Aside from a spill from a horse when she was ten, she’d never had any serious injuries. Her mother was still alive then, and so was her grandfather. The money that bought her the best of care back then had gotten her into this mess. If not for Lance’s scheming with his ‘honey,’ she wouldn’t have had to hide out in that run-down cabin.
Cara closed her eyes and listened to Nick moving around the room, checking the woodstove and blowing out candles. She was almost asleep when she felt him pull the blanket up and tuck it gently around her.
“Goodnight, Max,” he whispered.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had tucked her in. Her mother had spent the last thirteen years of her life in a sanitarium, and Cara’s guardians weren’t nurturing people. The servants were kind to her, but her guardians wouldn’t let them get close.
Nobody had been close the past few years except Lance.
And Nick.
Chapter Three
S ometime in the night, Nick heard Max calling to him. “Nick, wake up. I’m going to be sick.”
He jumped off the couch, grabbed the wastebasket from the kitchen, and shoved it under her face just in time. She was warm when she went to sleep, but now she was burning up. He helped her to the bathroom and brought her a glass of water so she could brush her teeth. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the toothbrush.
When she finished in the bathroom, she sat in the recliner, and he wrapped his coat and another blanket around her to ease her teeth-chattering chill.
“I’m sorry I woke you, Nick.”
“I’m glad you did. I hate cleaning up puke.” He’d done enough of that when he lived with his alcoholic mother.
He added wood to the fire and put the kettle on for tea. It might help settle her stomach. As soon as he got her settled, he’d call 911 again and get someone out here.
By sunrise, she had stopped shivering and fallen into a restless sleep. Nick walked outside with Max’s cell phone, where he could get better reception.
“Hey, I called yesterday. I know we’re on the list for today, but the situation has changed. The injured woman has a raging fever and the gash on her leg is infected. Her shoulder could be broken, too. It looks bad, and she’s in a lot of pain.”
“I’ll flag it for immediately response,” said the 911 operator. “Under normal circumstances, someone would have come right out.”
“Yeah, I know.” There
“Sure.” Nick found a new toothbrush, put a candle on the bathroom sink, and brought her a glass of water, “For your teeth. Don’t flush. I’ll do it before bed.”
<>
Two hours later, Cara sat at the kitchen counter while Nick made her something to eat. He handed her more pain pills and offered his bed for the night. It was a generous offer, but she couldn’t take his bed. She didn’t think she could lie down anyway. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll sleep in the chair tonight.”
“Sure, if you’re more comfortable there. If you need to get up, call me. I sleep hard, so keep hollering.”
His relaxed, friendly manner made her feel as if they’d been friends for years. She wondered why this warm, considerate guy lived alone. He said he was divorced. Why would a woman walk away from a man like Nick?
On the verge of tears, Cara breathed deeply to try to gain control over the pain. “Nick, would you check my leg, please? It feels like the bandage came loose.”
Nick arranged the pillows and she settled in the recliner again. He put the leg rest up and carefully pushed the sweatpants up to check her leg. “Aw shit! It’s swelling. I should have watched it closer.”
He put antibiotic ointment and a clean bandage on the gash and pulled the tape tight. “It’s probably too late to stitch it up now. Damn! You’re gonna have a big scar.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does.” He eased the back of the chair down a little. “Comfortable?”
“I’m okay.” If only she were. Aside from a spill from a horse when she was ten, she’d never had any serious injuries. Her mother was still alive then, and so was her grandfather. The money that bought her the best of care back then had gotten her into this mess. If not for Lance’s scheming with his ‘honey,’ she wouldn’t have had to hide out in that run-down cabin.
Cara closed her eyes and listened to Nick moving around the room, checking the woodstove and blowing out candles. She was almost asleep when she felt him pull the blanket up and tuck it gently around her.
“Goodnight, Max,” he whispered.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had tucked her in. Her mother had spent the last thirteen years of her life in a sanitarium, and Cara’s guardians weren’t nurturing people. The servants were kind to her, but her guardians wouldn’t let them get close.
Nobody had been close the past few years except Lance.
And Nick.
Chapter Three
S ometime in the night, Nick heard Max calling to him. “Nick, wake up. I’m going to be sick.”
He jumped off the couch, grabbed the wastebasket from the kitchen, and shoved it under her face just in time. She was warm when she went to sleep, but now she was burning up. He helped her to the bathroom and brought her a glass of water so she could brush her teeth. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold the toothbrush.
When she finished in the bathroom, she sat in the recliner, and he wrapped his coat and another blanket around her to ease her teeth-chattering chill.
“I’m sorry I woke you, Nick.”
“I’m glad you did. I hate cleaning up puke.” He’d done enough of that when he lived with his alcoholic mother.
He added wood to the fire and put the kettle on for tea. It might help settle her stomach. As soon as he got her settled, he’d call 911 again and get someone out here.
By sunrise, she had stopped shivering and fallen into a restless sleep. Nick walked outside with Max’s cell phone, where he could get better reception.
“Hey, I called yesterday. I know we’re on the list for today, but the situation has changed. The injured woman has a raging fever and the gash on her leg is infected. Her shoulder could be broken, too. It looks bad, and she’s in a lot of pain.”
“I’ll flag it for immediately response,” said the 911 operator. “Under normal circumstances, someone would have come right out.”
“Yeah, I know.” There
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