Her life was in a shambles. She had an unborn baby to take care of. The last thing she should be thinking about was a man.
A naturally sexy man with kind brown eyes and a voice soothing enough to give her chills. She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head on the pillow.
When she finally settled down and began to drift off to sleep she realized this was the first day she’d ever felt positive about her and the baby’s future in three months. Things would work out for her, she just knew it. Because she, with the help of Joe, would make sure they did.
A slight smile crossed her lips as a curtain of sleep inched its way down until all was dark and she peacefully crossed into sweet dreams. Thanks to Joe.
ON MONDAY, AFTER working all day, Joe insisted Carey come out with him for dinner, which was fine with her because she’d felt kind of cooped up. They ate at a little diner, then he showed her around Santa Monica, like the perfect host. She got the distinct impression it was to get them, and keep them, out of the house, because sometimes things felt too close there.
At least, that’s how it felt for her, and sometimes she sensed it was the same for him. The guy seemed to bite down on his jaw a lot! But she soon ignored her worries about him not wanting her around and went straight to loving seeing the beach and the Pacific Ocean, and especially the Santa Monica pier.
On Tuesday Joe had the day off, and he dutifully took her shopping for more clothes at a place called the Beverly Center. They checked the directory and he guided her to the few stores she’d shown interest in, then he stood outside in the mall area, giving her space to shop. Clearly he wanted nothing to do with helping her choose clothes, rather he just did what he thought he should do out of courtesy to her situation. She protested all the way when he insisted on paying for everything. She sensed his generosity was based on some sense of charitable obligation, and she only accepted his offer when he’d agreed to let her repay him once she was back on her feet. She’d be sure to keep a tally because things were quickly adding up!
Wednesday morning, before he started an afternoon shift, he chauffeured her around to the Department of Motor Vehicles for a temporary driving license, and since she’d received a check from her old job he also helped her open a bank account. She decided the guy was totally committed to helping her, like he’d signed some paper or made some pact to do it. And she certainly appreciated everything he’d done for her, but...
Even though he was easy enough to be around, she felt it was out of total obligation to treat people right in life. Far too often she sensed a disconnect between his courtesy and that safe distance he insisted on keeping between them. Well, if that’s what he wanted, she knew exactly how to live that way. Her parents had, sadly, been perfect role models in that regard.
* * *
Joe got home on Wednesday night to a quiet house. Carey had said hello, but now kept mostly to herself in her room. It made him wonder if he’d done something to offend her. He’d been trying his best to make her feel at home, though admittedly he may have been going about it robotically. But that seemed the only way he could deal with having a woman in his life again. Since he worked the a.m. shift the next day, he didn’t get a chance to ask Carey if he’d put her off or if her withdrawal had nothing to do with him. Something was definitely on her mind, and under the circumstances, being battered, bruised, mugged, homeless, and completely vulnerable, not to mention living with a stranger, he could understand why.
Maybe he’d come off aloof or unapproachable at times. But she had no idea how nearly unbearable it was to fix meals with her when it reminded him how much he missed being married. And having Carey there twenty-four seven, with her friendly smile and naturally sweet ways, was nearly making him come unhinged. She deserved someone to share things with, to talk to, but it couldn’t be him. Nope. He was nowhere near ready or able to be her sounding board. All he’d signed up for was offering her a place to live.
Maybe he could arrange for some follow-up visits with the social worker at the clinic. That way she could get what she wanted and needed and he wouldn’t have to be the person listening. Because when a woman vented, from his past experience with Angela, he knew she always expected something in return. Nope, no way would he unload his lousy past on Carey, no matter how much she might think she wanted him to. The lady had far too much on her plate as it was, and, truthfully, reliving such pain was the last thing he ever wanted to do. The social worker was definitely the right person to step in, and he planned to ask Helena to follow up the next day.
On Thursday evening, Joe came home to find Carey scrubbing the kitchen floor. From the looks of the rest of the house, she’d been cleaning all day.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She was so focused on the floor-scrubbing she didn’t notice him. He stepped closer but not onto the wet kitchen tiles.
“Am I that much of a slob?” he tried to joke, but she didn’t laugh. Something was definitely eating at her. “Carey?”
Finally she heard him and shook her head as if she’d been in a trance and looked at him. “Hi.” Not sounding the least bit enthusiastic.
“Everything okay?”
She stopped pushing the mop handle. “Just trying to pay you back for all you’re doing for me.”
Damn. She may as well have sliced him with a knife. “You don’t have to be my house cleaner, you know.”
“What else can I do?” The obvious “else” not being to sleep together.
Why was that the first thought to come to his mind? Cripes, she had him mixed up. He used her clear frustration as a springboard to what his latest mission on Carey’s behalf had been. “I, uh, spoke to the social worker today—the one who helped you while you were in the hospital—and she said she’d love to keep in touch.” He’d totally reworded their true conversation, trying to make it sound casual, not necessary, but the truth was he’d talked at great length with Helena at work about Carey’s precarious situation. The social worker wanted to keep connected with Carey and promised to call her right away.
“Yes. Thanks. She called earlier today. I’m going to have a phone appointment with her on Monday.”
“That’s great.” He almost said, I hope it helps you snap out of your funk, but kept that thought to himself because a sneaky part of him worried he’d put her there. He knew too well how unhelpful being told to snap out of it could be, especially when a person was nowhere near ready. He would protect Carey in any way he could, and felt she shouldn’t be nervous all the time. But he’d never been in her shoes, and...
Then it dawned on him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The woman was a nurse. Nurses were always busy on the job. She was used to helping people, not the other way around. She was probably going crazy with so much time on her hands and nothing to do but watch TV or read while he was away every day. But she’d had a head trauma and needed to heal. “Do you feel ready to go back to work?”
She shifted from being intent on cleaning to suddenly looking deflated. “That’s the thing, I can’t until the California RN license comes through. Plus I still feel foggy-headed from the concussion. At this point I’d worry I might hurt some poor unsuspecting patient or something. But on another level my energy is coming back, and I’m feeling really restless.”
That damn mugger had not only stolen
