Chapter Eight

 

NAT WAS STILL arguing with him when Zach pulled into his driveway four hours later. The threat of calling Calum had convinced her to let them take her in the ambulance to the hospital, and he’d followed in his truck with a subdued Belle riding along. He’d finally reached her cousin at a physical therapy symposium downtown, and he’d met Zach in the hospital waiting room.

They’d treated Nat for mild smoke inhalation, and had proclaimed she had a mild concussion from whacking her forehead on the tree, as well as having re-injured her leg. She’d be off it for a few days, then could ease into walking again and continue PT. The emergency room had been blessedly quiet, and they’d had her in and out in just under a couple of hours. He’d actually gone weak-kneed with relief when the doc had proclaimed her none the worse for having breathed in the toxic smoke.

“You can just drop me off at Calum’s,” Natalie groused. “There’s no reason for me to stay with you.”

“I’m not dropping you off at Calum’s. You’d never get any sleep on his short couch. Did you not listen to the doc when he said to stay off that leg, and you should have someone monitor you for a few days from that knock on your hard head? You can’t even walk by yourself.”

When she opened her mouth, no doubt to argue some more, he placed a finger across her lips. “Cal has a full schedule, and I told you I’m on vacation and available until after Christmas—heck, for as long as you need me—and have an extra room, too, with a big comfy bed. Staying with me makes more sense, now and while they repair your house. The doctor and Calum vetoed you staying at his place or in a hotel, and both encouraged you to stay here. Am I such an ogre you can’t stand the thought of being in the same house as me? Quit being so stubborn and let me help you. It’s not like I’m really a stranger, anyway. I’ve been friends with Cal for over ten years, and I thought you and I were becoming friends over the past few weeks, if not the week we spent years ago.”

“Fine! You’re as hard-headed as he is,” she snapped, then continued in a subdued voice. “ And I don’t think you’re an ogre at all. We are—friends.”

Her voice so low at the end, he’d almost missed her comment about being friends, and wondered at the hesitation before she said ‘friends’. Did she think of him as more than a friend?

As he climbed from the vehicle, he shook his head. He needed to figure a way to help her be comfortable in his home—without coming on too strong.

Although convinced she had feelings for him that surpassed friendship, he would ensure he did nothing to make her uncomfortable while she recuperated and had nowhere else to go. He’d learned iron control during MARSOC training and on the battlefield—he’d just have to use that control and make sure he didn’t cross a line with her. Unless, of course, she gave any sign she wanted him to. Then all bets were off.

“Wait here while I get Belle settled in bed and I’ll come back out to help you into the house.”

“I can make it that short distance.”

“Damn, woman, you’re as stubborn as your cousin. Please, just wait here for me. Your leg is unstable, and it’s buckled every time you’ve put that foot down. You keep it up and you’ll have a permanent injury. Besides, the doc said to stay off it. I will not risk another bonk on your head if you fall, or have you mess up your leg even worse than it is. Can’t you put aside your stubbornness for five minutes while I get Belle settled?”

He ignored her grumbling and lifted his sleeping munchkin from the backseat. His mouth quirked as she drooled on his shoulder, but a backward glance wiped the smile right off his face.

The glimmer of pain in Natalie’s eyes as she watched his daughter reminded him of the pain when he’d almost lost Belle, the pain she must feel at not having her son tragically worse, because her pain was permanent. To lose a child would tear the heart right from a mother’s chest, and his arms tightened around his daughter at the thought.

“Daddy, too tight.” Her sleepy voice brought him out of his nightmarish memories.

“Sorry, pumpkin. Let’s get you to bed.” He dropped a kiss on her silky hair, thankful again for the skills he’d learned in the military. For a long time afterwards, he never wanted to let her out of his sight—had to relearn how to share her with his sister.

He made it upstairs and tucked Belle in bed without changing her clothes. If she woke fully while getting PJs on, she’d be underfoot while he got Nat settled, and he knew the poor woman was still on edge from the trauma of almost losing her home and her visit to the hospital.

As he turned to leave, Belle mumbled, “Want Mr. King, Daddy.” He reversed his steps and snuggled her furry friend under the covers. She wrapped her little arm around the king’s neck and was fast asleep.

He all but ran down the stairs, not trusting Natalie to stay in the truck. He’d never met a more contrary woman or man. Jesus, she could give lessons in stubbornness.

When he jogged back outside and to the truck, he saw she’d dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, probably exhausted beyond measure.

“Hey, you okay?”

Her eyes flew open. “Oh! You know, I’d really be fine at Calum’s. I don’t want to trouble you.”

He slanted her a look and ignored her repeated attempt to have him drop her at Cal’s. “Come on. Let’s get you inside and to bed.”

Opening the door, he scooped her up in his arms, reveling in the feel of her curvy body held snug against his chest. His heart skipped a beat, then raced when she tucked her face into the curve of his neck, sound asleep before they made it through the front door and into the living room.

Relief filled Zach when he felt Nat go from stiff to supple in a heartbeat. He blew out a frustrated breath at her continued arguments for staying anywhere but his house. He wondered how much of that was from wanting to keep her distance from Belle, and how much was because she was fighting her attraction to him?

He valiantly tried to ignore the way his body reacted to having her in his arms. The hospital had given her scrubs to wear, the thin layer of cotton between her silky skin and his bare hands and forearms driving him crazy. He was a Marine, for God’s sake. He’d trained to withstand pain. To keep going when he felt ready to drop dead. To ignore distractions. To keep his eye on the target.

His body, mind—and possibly his heart—had all decided she was the target, though. He needed to pay attention, dammit, to what was important. Helping her get back on her feet—and convincing her to give them a chance.

He topped the stairs and strode into the spare bedroom to the bed. The sheet already pulled back, he laid her gently in the middle of the mattress. As he pulled the covers over her long legs, he couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on her forehead.

He grinned a little when he realized he’d finally gotten the kiss he’d been craving, even if it wasn’t on her enticingly full lips.