slapped the last drawer shut and turned to face him, but he found himself still watching her hair move and swing around her shoulders. She dangled a sling in her hand, finally drawing his attention.
“I’ll have to make some adjustments for your size, but I think it will work.”
He stared at the sling a moment longer, and images of the last time he’d seen her, three years before, swam uninvited through his mind. She’d been leaving the hospital’s long-term rehabilitation wing. Leaving the entire area, for that matter, for good. He’d come to see her with the idea of talking her into taking a sabbatical rather than terminating her job. He’d used logic, telling her she’d retain benefits that way, and seniority. He’d argued that she’d go crazy sitting out in the middle of nowhere, that she was too vital a person for that, with a need to be involved rather than sidelined. He thought he’d been giving her a long-term goal, something to focus on. A future.
She’d been sitting in a wheelchair when he’d walked in, but only because the nurse was more stubborn than she was. At least that was his take given the byplay between the two. One leg was still in a heavy brace, her head was still partially bandaged where they’d had to shave it. Her face was recognizable by then, but still pretty banged up. And her arm had been in a sling. The one presently in her hands, if he wasn’t mistaken.
She’d quietly listened to all his arguments, then turned to the nurse and informed her that she was ready to leave. She didn’t bother to look back after she’d been wheeled past him. Though she had probably felt somewhat humiliated by her physical limitations at the time, he recalled thinking it had been one of the more dignified exits he’d ever seen. And though he’d sincerely believed she was making a mistake by resigning the team, that dignity alone demanded he respect her decision. And he had.
Until he’d been given no choice.
“You didn’t have to—”
“What?” she said, rather brusquely. “I have a sling, you need one. Don’t get all maudlin on me.”
“Maudlin? I’m hardly—”
“Here.” She walked over to the side of the bed, already making the adjustments to the strap. “You’ll need to shift your weight forward just a—”
“Got it,” he said, for some reason annoyed rather than amused with her no-nonsense demeanor. She bent across him, all but burying his face in all that hair, and he didn’t want to know how fresh it smelled, or how silky it felt. He didn’t want to know that it would make his body respond in ways that, while heartening to know everything still functioned properly, was entirely inappropriate. Especially when it was very damn clear he didn’t then, and certainly didn’t now, hold any of the same distraction or appeal for her.
Using his good hand, he tugged the strap from hers. “I can do it.”
She immediately let go and straightened. “I’m sure you can.”
Hearing the thread of amusement in her tone had him looking up. There was little hint of it on her face, but he knew what he’d heard. “What?” he asked, knowing he sounded almost petulant, and not seemingly able to get himself under control. It shouldn’t bug him in the slightest that she wasn’t aware of him the way he was suddenly aware of her. He certainly wasn’t at his best at the moment. And just because she’d never thought of him in that way, certainly shouldn’t have been any kind of blow to his ego. They’d worked together, and that kind of distraction held all kinds of dangerous potential he continually instructed his team to avoid at all costs. Not that all of them did. Being put into highly dangerous, life-and-death situations, especially with someone you had to trust with your life, had a way of creating sexual tension, even between people who otherwise couldn’t have imagined it.
He’d never been in that kind of close quarters situation with Tate, and never knew her to have gotten involved with anyone she’d worked with, but it certainly hadn’t kept him from thinking that, had life been different for the two of them, he might have been interested in her that way. So it shouldn’t have been a stretch to think that she might have felt something along the same lines.
Christ, he really needed to get some food in his belly and get some rest, because his entire train of thought was bordering on the ridiculous. He finished situating the sling, using motions that caused more pain than necessary, but if that’s what it took to clear his head, so be it. “If you could prop the tray on my lap, I can take it from there,” he said, not remotely interested in eating anything at the moment, but needing the distraction almost as much as he needed the nutrition.
She did as asked with a minimum of fuss. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you’re done.” She moved to the doorway, but paused by the frame and looked back. “Then I’ll want a complete debriefing on everything you know so we can start getting me my life back.”
Chapter 5
Tate made it as far as the kitchen before giving in to the shaking in her knees. She sank down onto a kitchen chair and wrapped trembling hands around the mug of hot tea she’d made herself after coming in from the storm. She let the warmth seep through her skin, willing it to soothe the rest of her.
She shouldn’t let him rattle her. The situation he’d put her in was rattling enough. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the return of the tension and the adrenaline and the worry that was making her hyper-aware of him in ways she had absolutely no business being. Of course, he’d never been in her home before, much less in her bed, so she could probably be forgiven for having a few wayward thoughts. Which didn’t explain why that awareness had begun when he’d still been lying half-conscious on the floor inside her front door.
It was the situation, that was all. She took a fortifying sip of tea, then swore silently when it burned the tip of her tongue. She had to get her wits about her if she was going to reclaim her life and get him and whatever he’d brought with him the hell out of it.
While she’d been outside, trying to beat the storm from hell and losing that battle handily, tracking and covering his movements all the way out into the hills, she’d made a promise to herself. She didn’t care what was going on, or why he’d come to find her, she wasn’t leaving here. This was her home now, these were her mountains, her retreat, her corner of the world. Her haven. And she’d be damned if she was going to let anyone take it away from her.
She blew across the surface of her tea, hating that her breath was still a bit uneven. She could blame it on the aftereffects of her long hike through the wind and rain, but she’d bundled up against the elements and had taken appropriate precautions, using her walking stick when she had to. Covering her tracks as well.
She popped a few over-the-counter pain relievers as she took another sip. These days, it was thankfully the only medicine she required, and only then when needed. She didn’t hurt now, but she knew she’d pay the price tomorrow, so a little preemptive strike was in order. Plus, it was likely only the beginning of the strain she might have to put on her still relatively newly-healed body. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, meditate, even briefly, reclaim the calm she’d worked so hard to find inside herself.
But every time she closed her eyes, it was like a myriad of images coming at her in high speed, making her head hurt, drawing her thoughts down paths they had no business traversing. Whether they be inappropriate thoughts of her former boss, or unnecessary flashbacks to a life that no longer mattered.
So she stared instead across the small kitchen, past the foyer, and out the large picture window beyond. Even though the heavy rains shrouded her view, she could
