Help!” she yelled, hoping he heard with the windows open. “Help!”
“Becca…” She heard his wonderful, deep voice calling up to her through the window. “Where are you?”
“In the attic. I fell through the floor and can’t get out.”
“How do I get in? Do you have a spare key outside somewhere?”
The very thought appalled her. Why make it easy for a robber to get into her house? She’d be the butt of jokes at the police station for weeks. “No. My neighbor on the left has one.”
“Be right back.”
Even though help was on the way, Becca gave it another try, hating the idea she was trapped in her house, helpless, depending on another for rescue. Still, all she managed to do was press the jagged pieces of wood into her flesh even more. She bit down hard. She hoped she wasn’t bleeding all over her grandmother’s quilt, which covered Caitlin’s bed. Granny would roll over in her grave if she was.
Moments later footsteps pounded up the stairs to the attic. She inhaled in a deep, calming breath, and nearly choked on the dust she’d stirred up. She sneezed, releasing one hand to rub her nose. She must look a wreck with sweat-drenched clothes covered in the dust and dirt from the floor. So much for second impressions.
“Becca?”
Realizing the mound of boxes hid her from his view, she called out, “I’m over here.”
Quinn peered over the stack and, with a sharp gaze, assessed the situation with a quick sweep. “Okay?”
“Except for being embarrassed for putting myself in this position, I’m fine.”
Quinn hefted the boxes out of the way until he could kneel next to her, careful to keep his weight on the rafter he balanced himself on. The worry on his face touched her. For so long she had always been the one who had worried about others. She’d forgotten what it was like to have someone concerned for her.
“I’m adding this to the long list of projects that need to be done around here. This attic flooring needs to be completed.” She patted the beam next to her. “I definitely don’t want to be in this predicament again.” This would now be number one on her least favorite things to happen to her, even before encountering snakes, which she had a healthy fear and respect for.
Quinn grinned. “Probably should be moved up to the top of your ‘to do’ list.” He felt around the edges of the hole.
“I’m caught on something.” She breathed in a whiff of his aftershave and for a few seconds the scent of pine filled her nostrils.
“I’m going below to see if I can push you up through the hole. Do you have a stepladder somewhere?”
“In the garage.”
“I’ll be right back. Hang on.” He rose, chuckling. “No pun intended.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she said with her own chuckle.
She was sure when she was free she would laugh about this and probably tell the guys down at work about this little adventure—well, maybe she wouldn’t go that far. But right now all she wanted was to hide in the bathroom, wash off the dirt she’d picked up from the floor and change clothes. What a sight she must be! There was a part of her that was amazed she even cared, but she had felt a connection with Quinn the other day that had intrigued her.
In the past she’d had little time for a serious relationship with the opposite sex what with raising her siblings and trying to establish her career at the police department as well as go back to school to finish her degree. She only had another year of part-time college to earn her psychology degree, then she wanted to work on her master’s. She couldn’t see herself being a police detective forever, especially considering how hard it was for her emotionally to shake some cases. She wanted one day to be a counselor. That was why she had joined the negotiation team. That and—
So lost in thought, she gasped when she felt Quinn’s hand on her ankle. The warmth in his fingers momentarily wiped from her mind the past half hour and all she could zoom in on was his touch.
“I see a piece of wood caught on your pants. I’m going to free you then push up. I may have to rip your pants some more.”
“I imagine they are beyond repair. Don’t worry about them,” she said wistfully when she thought of having just removed the price tag from them right before she had put them on an hour ago.
Quinn clambered up the ladder until he could grip the wood. The whole time she was acutely aware of him even though she couldn’t see him—she could hear and feel his presence. Heat singed her face when she pictured how she must look to him.
He finally broke off the jagged piece of wood, giving her leg some more room. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He shoved while she thrust herself up and out of the hole. She perched herself on the rafter and stared down into the bedroom. Thankfully she hadn’t been right above the bed so Granny’s quilt had escaped any harm.
“Are you all right?” Quinn’s handsome face peered up at her.
She smiled. “I’ll live.”
He climbed down while she checked the gash on her leg. Her nicest pair of capris was, as she’d suspected, totally ruined. She probably needed to go to the doctor and have the wound stitched. Her leg throbbed with pain, which only reinforced her conclusion. She hated doctors, tried her best to stay away, but she knew Quinn would insist. Why, she wasn’t sure. He just seemed that kind of guy.
Quinn appeared by her side. “How bad is it?”
She showed him the gash on her thigh, blood soaking her peach-colored capri pants.
He whistled. “I’ll drive you to the emergency room.”
“No hospitals.”
“You should see a doctor. You need stitches and the wound needs to be cleaned out. I’ve seen enough accidents on the construction site to know a bad one when I see it.”
Her jaw clenched, she tried to stand. “I don’t have a doctor.”
Quinn came to her side to assist. “You don’t?”
She slanted a look at his strong profile as she limped next to him toward the stairs, his arm about her, helping to support some of her weight. “We had a family doctor, but he retired last year. I haven’t had a need to find another.”
“My cousin is a doctor. I’ll call Adam and see if he can see you right away.”
“But—”
He shot her a challenging look, one eyebrow arched.
She clamped her mouth closed, keeping her protest inside. Finally she said, “It’s Saturday,” as though that would change Quinn’s mind.
“I’m calling him at home.”
“I don’t want to bother him at home on his—”
