Eliza blinked open her eyes. Her brain felt fuzzy, like she’d slept too long. Her eyelids felt very heavy, like little weights had been attached to keep her eyes closed. Air-conditioning blew around the room, a gentle, cool breeze that brought with it the scents of bleach, and she heard the soft sounds of rain coming from outside the window.
Suddenly Eliza remembered where she was. The hospital.
That got her eyes open.
The pillow felt scratchy against her cheek, the bed small and uncomfortable now that she remembered where she lay, partially upright. Licking her lips, Eliza tried to take inventory of what had happened. Oh. Right. She was stupid and wore impossibly high heels on a boat. She totally blamed Craig.
Somehow this was his fault.
Turning, she only then realized that someone gripped her hand. Craig. He sat in a chair, his head pillowed on one arm against the bed and his hand firmly clasped around hers. The sight of him, looking so uncomfortable and yet holding onto her hand so tightly even in sleep, surprised her. She hadn’t expected anyone to be at her bedside, let alone a sleeping Craig.
Maybe there was more to him than she thought. He was there for her. Her. She squeezed his hand just a little, her fingers feeling stiff, but the connection felt solid. It meant something, him being here. It meant something to her, but Eliza couldn’t quite describe the emotion, how his being there made her feel.
Craig raised his head and looked at her, his eyes far brighter and more alert than she felt.
“Hi,” Eliza whispered, her throat raw and scratchy.
“Are you all right?” he asked, watching her with concern. He still held her hand, his fingers squeezing hers, but now Eliza realized he carefully avoided several long scratches and the IV needle.
Offering a half-smile she answered honestly, “I have a raging headache. But,” she said and took a moment to catalog each ache and pain, “I think I’m all right.”
Eliza moved to sit up straighter, not easy when Craig refused to release her hand. Instead of forcing the issue or jerking it away, she kept it there. She liked his touch, the comfort that went with his hand around hers.
“Ah!”
She’d moved her left leg, surprised at the pain that shot through her. Pushing the sheets over her leg, she saw the bulky bandage around her ankle.
“You really didn’t have to make this your address for the night.” Craig gestured around the hospital room, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The fingers of his free hand pushed her hair behind her ear, caressed her cheek.
Tilting her head to the side, she looked up at him and frowned. “Excuse me, but who are you?”
Craig’s eyes widened and she laughed at the wide-eyed, stunned look on his face. This, at least, felt normal between them. His other hand covered the hand he held now as well, his thumb stroking her inner wrist.
“I remember getting on the boat,” she admitted. “But not much of anything else except someone screaming at me.” She paused and tried to put a face to the screaming. “Maybe a doctor, but I don’t remember what he said.”
“There was an accident at the marina,” Craig said with a calmness that wasn’t reflected in his gaze. “You fell victim to designer shoes.”
“Oh.” Eliza nodded. She smiled at him with a wicked grin. It took Craig a moment longer than she anticipated for that panic to drain from his gaze, for his hands to loosen their grip around hers.
“It’s not nice,” Craig said with only a faint hitch in his words, “to pull the old soap opera trick.”
“But it was fun seeing your face,” Eliza countered.
His thumb brushed over her knuckles, the touch more intimate than a quick roll in the hay. Craig’s dark eyes held hers for several long moments.
“You scared the hell out of me.” Craig said quietly.
Eliza opened her mouth to apologize when the nurse came in. “Good morning!” the tall blonde said with a wide smile. “I see our patient is awake. The doctor is still on the floor,” she continued as she pulled out her stethoscope and took her blood pressure. “He said you can go home.”
The nurse wrote the numbers down and waited.
“Good. I want to go home,” Eliza said.
“She’s coming home with me,” Craig added in a tone that brooked no argument.
The nurse smiled. “Then I better catch him before he leaves.”
Eliza watched the woman leave. Turning to Craig, she smiled lightly. “You don’t have to play nursemaid.”
He grinned back and wiggled his eyebrows. “How about sexy nurse-man.”
She shook her head. “Would you wear that little cap?”
Craig smirked and leaned closer. His smirk changed to that smile the one that made her insides melt and her toes curl. “No cap involved.”
* * * *
Currently, Craig was making them lunch. She smelled the grilled cheese he’d promised her, and though she was hungry, Eliza was restless. Bored? Yes. She was tired of wobbling poorly around on crutches she didn’t know how to use.
When Craig had promised to take her home—his home, he’d meant—it hadn’t occurred to her that he also meant to take care of her as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
Which totally confused her.
Her ankle appreciated it, however, but after five days of him literally waiting on her hand and foot, carrying her more-than-generous curves up the stairs and tucking her in, and acting like a dotting husband, Eliza had had enough. She was stir-crazy.
Craig walked in, carrying a tray with food, two glasses of iced tea, and a single rose in a thin vase.
“Burn a couple?” she asked, eyeing the perfectly made sandwiches. The faint smell of burnt cheese clung to the air, and she hid a snicker. He’d been gone a very long time for only two sandwiches.
Craig held out her glass of iced tea and shrugged.
“A five-year-old can make grilled cheese!” She laughed and sipped the sweet drink.
“That’s not true,” he countered and balanced her plate on her lap. “You’d never let a five-year-old turn on the stove.”
Eliza shrugged and broke off a chunk of the sandwich. “All right,” she agreed. “An eight-year-old.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, there’s not one burnt edge on this grilled cheese.” He sniffed and took his own plate. “Let’s see if an eight-year-old can do that.”
They ate in silence for a moment or two, and Eliza had to admit the sandwich was perfectly melted.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, handing her a napkin.
“Sore,” she admitted, “but good.”
He looked at her critically then smiled that wide grin that lightened his whole face. “Until today, I’ve admirably refrained from yelling at you.”
Confused, she chewed a bite. “What did I do?”
“You got hurt.” The words were short, clipped, and as serious as she’d ever heard him. They held an underlying anger, but with a startling realization, Eliza knew it wasn’t anger at her. It was an impotent anger over the accident.
She swallowed another bite, the cheese a lump in her throat that hurt as she swallowed. Or maybe it was the realization that her accident had shaken him to the core. And a silly, stupid accident at that. It unsettled him far more than she thought it would, more than it had her. more than it’s shaken her, certainly.
It was simply a badly sprained ankle and a mild concussion.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, trying for levity. It fell flat. “It wasn’t my fault; I was just trying to get a soda!”
“That was one of the worst calls I’ve ever received in my life.”
This was the perfect time to break the tension and ask how he’d known, but Eliza couldn’t make her mouth form the words. She swallowed again instead, but it didn’t ease the dryness of her throat or make it any easier for the words to form.
“And it came,” he continued, “from Audrey.”
Ah. That made sense, but she still couldn’t seem to find the flippancy. “Craig, you’re not my emergency contact.” The words were lighter than she expected them to be, but still not the snarky, jokey tone she usually used with him. “I didn’t know I was going to get hurt.”
“I want to be your emergency contact now.”
Eliza eyed him in the silence after his statement. She really didn’t have a comeback to that. Instead, she bit off another piece of her sandwich, even though she wasn’t hungry and didn’t want it anymore.
Clearing her throat, Eliza said, “Audrey and Sabrina are my emergency contacts—”
“They’re not your lover,” he interrupted. Then he quirked an eyebrow in a ghost of his normal humor. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Eliza laughed, a choked sound she quickly washed down with a long drink of iced tea.
“I don’t like the idea of being notified about you secondhand. If,” he continued with a shred of humor, though she saw the seriousness beneath it, “we’re going to give this a chance, then I want to be on that emergency contact list.”
“Okay.” Eliza nodded decisively. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to plunge into uncharted waters. I’m not one to ask this question but I’m going to ask it. What are your intentions toward me?”
“Did we suddenly become a Victorian couple?” Craig asked, watching her askance.
Eliza sniffed. “At least the Victorians knew what was what.”
“I suppose wanting to be on your emergency contact list,” Craig said slowly, “is asking to asking permission to court you.” He nodded, seeming pleased with that analogy. “So.” He grinned at her again. “Can I be on your contact list?”
“Fine,” she agreed on a sigh.
His smile was wide, open, pleased. One day, she’d understand everything she felt when it came to Craig. Unfortunately, today was simply not that day. Or didn’t seem to be.
“Craig, you got my emergency contact.” She shook her head. “Not my secret stash of handmade dark chocolate.”
He laughed, and again it sounded open and pleased. Craig bumped her shoulder, careful not to upset the tray on the bed. “I got something better.”
Better than the handmade dark chocolate from that place in Brooklyn? Was there such a thing? She looked at him, confused. It seemed to be her permanent state when it came to him. Well, when it came to her emotions about him.
“I got you to admit that we’re going to give this a shot.”
Oh. Ooh. Oh, he was good. Eliza opened her mouth to snap back, but in the face of his grin, of that warmth that continued to spread through her, she couldn’t find the words. Good Lord, what had happened to her snark? Her sarcasm? Her witty comebacks? Did she even ever have any anymore when it came to him?
“You really want this?” she demanded. If she didn’t literally hold her breath, it was most definitely held metaphorically.
“Yes. Don’t you?” He took her hand, his thumb brushing over the back of hers in long, light strokes. His touch danced along her nerves, up her arm, and Eliza had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering at such a simple touch.
“Look at us; we’re like two peas in a pod. Like a double decker bus.”
Frowning, she gave him a look. “A bus?”
Craig shrugged, but his grin didn’t abate. “All right, bad example. We’re like…New York and taxis. We just go together.”
“You want a little more cheese on your grilled cheese?” Eliza laughed at her own joke, at his cheesiness. At the smile he flashed her.
“What?” He shrugged. “I’m no good with baring my heart. I’m good with baring a shoulder.” His thumb continued to brush over her hand, and he moved closer. “I’m good with—”
“You’re not good at sharing, are you?” she asked quietly. Food forgotten, she watched him closely. “And I’m not good at taking big risks.”
The joking faded away, disappearing in the breeze from the open window. Eliza smelled the water and the spring flowers, and the scents from their lunch. She licked her lips and tasted the remnants of cheese and, if she concentrated, she could taste the kiss Craig had given her before he went to make lunch.
“Why do you keep insisting this is going to be a risk?” he asked in a quiet voice that bordered on a demand but didn’t quite cross into it.
“Because I know you,” she told him just as quietly, as seriously. “Because—” Her voice cracked, and she hastily took a drink of her iced tea. “Because I know you, and I don’t know if you can really be with just one woman.” She took a deep breath. “If I say yes to whatever this is between us, yes to more than just sex, I’m setting myself up, aren’t I?”
“No.” The denial was swift and firm. It took her aback and made her hope. “Eliza, I’ve been falling for you for…a long while.” His hand tightened on hers. “It took seeing you hurt with Mr. Oops, I’m Married to know I didn’t want to see you with anyone else.”
“But that’s just it.” She pulled her hand from his. “Not wanting to see me with anyone else and being with me are two different things.” She shifted to the edge of the bed but didn’t rise, not yet, though she wasn’t sure why. “I need more time, Craig. I’m not ready yet. I didn’t think this through, and I should have.”
He nodded. “Fine. We spend the time here, together. That’s what this has all been about. And every day of these last few, has only made me want you all the more.”
“No.” She stood, forgetting about her ankle for a moment, but it held her just fine. Okay, there was a little twinge, but the pain pills the hospital gave her were very good. Suddenly she needed to get away. Get away from Craig and from his feelings for her. More importantly, to get away from her feelings from him, strange and new and chaotic as they were. “I’m going to head back to the city tonight.”
Eliza swore he looked hurt, but he didn’t say anything. She watched him watch her and in those moments, she saw him hide his emotions. Close himself off.
He nodded. “I’ll drive you.”
“No,” she countered. If he drove her, that meant he’d already be in New York. Not that he couldn’t drive there himself, but at least this way she knew…what? It was stupid, but she needed the time, needed to be alone for the hours it took her to get from here to there.
“I’ll get a car service.”
Craig looked like he wanted to argue; his mask slipped just slightly, and a look of such raw pain flashed over his face that it physically hurt her. Oh, God, what had she done? But she needed to leave, get out of his house and away from him. She needed distance between her and Craig. The more the better.
Manhattan might not be enough, but it was a start.