“Let me guess. You were the Corn Queen.”
Her grin brightened her face. Not only pretty, unexpectedly beautiful.
Air stuck in his throat. He struggled to breathe.
She struck a royal pose, lifting her chin and shifting her shoulders back. “Corn Princess.”
Bill had no idea why he’d reacted to her. Must be tired. “Sash and tiara?”
“Corn-on-the-cob scepter, too.”
“Real Iowan corn?”
“Only the finest.” She gave Liam a royal wave. “I was the envy of the corn court until an unfortunate incident with one of the 4-H goats.”
“Poor goat.”
“Poor corn.” She made an exaggerated sad face. “After the goat encounter, I was a princess without a scepter.”
Okay, this was more like it. Smiling and joking and raising Bill’s temperature ten degrees. “So what brings her highness out of the land of sweet tea and juicy peaches across the Mississippi River and over the Rockies to the verdant Pacific Northwest?”
She stared at Liam. Her eyes softened. “Astoria.”
“Ah. Nice little coastal town, if you don’t mind being at sea level.” Bill preferred living in the mountains. “Do you have family there?”
“No, but I thought why not try something different.”
Her voice sounded shaky. Nerves?
Or something more? “That’s a big move.”
She shrugged, but tight lines formed around her mouth. “I’ve moved a lot.”
“I’ve moved twice, not counting my stint at the fire academy. Once from my parents’ house to an apartment, then into this house.” Bill stood next to Grace. The top of her head came to the tip of his nose. “Show me where you’re sore.”
She pointed to her left shoulder, where the seat belt would have hit.
He touched the spot. “Does this hurt?”
“Slightly tender.” She glanced at his hand on her, then looked away. “I can’t remember all the moves we’ve made. My husband was in the army.”
Was. Past tense. She hadn’t said ex-husband, but she wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Bill knew some folks didn’t wear rings. Others lost them. Or pawned them. “Is your husband waiting for you in Astoria?”
She bent down and stroked Liam’s hair. “He’s...dead.”
Her words cut Bill at the knees. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She was so young with a kid.
Just like Hannah, Nick’s wife.
A million memories rushed back, memories Bill had hoped to forget. The smell of death when his rescue team had found the bodies of Nick and Iain, still roped together. The sound of grief when he’d spent days at Nick’s house, trying to comfort the Bishop family. The taste of regret when Bill had realized nothing he did or said would make things better for Hannah and her two young kids.
He had felt so useless back then. He forced himself to breathe now. At least he could do something for Grace. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” The words came automatically, as if programmed in and spoken without thinking.
Her gaze, full of affection, remained on Liam, who kept himself entertained with the toy elephant.
Bill thought he could reach out and touch the love she was sending her son. A small knot formed in his chest. Ached behind his ribs. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like how he wanted to hold Grace until she looked at him the same way.
Not that she would. He had a habit of failing the women in his life. Just like his dad.
“Columbus, Georgia.” Bill forced the words from his dry throat. “Is that where your husband was stationed?”
“Yes. Fort Benning. Damon was a Ranger. He was killed in action in Afghanistan two and a half years ago.”
Damn. That sucked. “A real hero.”
“Yes. Highly decorated. He loved what he did.”
Grace’s affection for her late husband filled her voice. Love never played into Bill’s relationships. He much preferred the other L word. Lust. Love was too messy, too complicated. It was capable of causing pain and grief, like Grace must have endured with her husband’s death. “Our service members have paid a high price in the Middle East, but your husband leaves behind a legacy of memories, and Liam.”
Her gaze went from her son to Bill. “Is there, um, anything else you need to check?”
He looked at his hand on her shoulder. Damn. Still touching her. He lowered his arm. “Any headache or sore neck now?”
“No.”
If her headrest wasn’t set properly she could have whiplash. He rubbed his hands together so they wouldn’t be cold against her skin, and stepped behind her. “I’m going to move your hair to check your neck.”
“That’s fine.” Her tight tone made him think otherwise.
Bill pushed her long wet hair over to one side. His fingertips brushed her neck.
She inhaled sharply. Tensed.
“Sorry.” He liked the feel of her soft skin. If only she wasn’t so cold. But he knew ways to warm her up. Lots of ways.
Stop. Right there.
Bill might have the reputation of being a player, but he didn’t play with patients. He touched her neck again. “Does this area hurt?”
Her back stiffened. “Not really.”
He wasn’t buying it. “You feel something.”
“Nothing major.” She sounded nonchalant, as if she had a splinter in her finger, nothing more. “A dull ache.”
He moved his hand lower. “What about here?”
“Very dull. Almost nothing.”
He moved in front of her. “Show me where the seat belt hit you.”
Grace pointed to her left shoulder, then diagonally across her chest and over her hips.
“Does your abdomen or lower back hurt?”
“No.”
“Hips?”
“All good.”
“We can hold off a trip to the hospital tonight. Depending
