also when, during the days that followed, he’d had to fight the urge to contact her again.
Women like Courtney Clay were better off without guys like Mason Hyde in their lives.
Even she had agreed to that particular fact.
He was surprised that she’d gone along with her cousin’s suggestion to not only give Mason room and board now but to also provide him with whatever nursing care he needed until he could take care of himself.
But maybe she hadn’t been as haunted as he’d been by that night together. Maybe it made no difference to her one way or another who her temporary roommate was going to be. Maybe it was just about the money.
It didn’t seem to fit what he knew about her. But then, what he knew most about her was what her lips tasted like. What her smooth, honey-tinted skin felt like beneath his fingertips.
She’d been the one to invite him to her place that long-ago day. He’d been in Weaver for a few days helping Axel out on a case. And though Mason had made it plain he wanted to see her again, he’d had no expectation, no plan, that it would lead to her bed.
She was too young for him, but she was an incredibly beautiful woman. Turning down that particular opportunity had even occurred to him. Until she’d whispered for him not to worry. It was just one night. She’d said those words herself.
So when she’d stared up at him in the shadowy light of her living room and began unbuttoning her blouse, he’d helped her finish the job.
He’d made the mistake of forgetting who and what he was when he’d tried to have a normal life eleven years ago. He wasn’t going to do it again.
Not even when the temptation came in the form of a shapely, blonde nurse whose touch still hung in his memory.
He was in a wheelchair.
Even though Courtney had expected it, the sight of Mason sitting in the chair made her wince inside.
“Remember what you’re doing this for,” she whispered to herself. She needed to keep her long-term plan in the forefront of her mind. It would be the only way she could get through the short-term … awkwardness.
She gave a mental nod and drew in a quick, hard breath as she brushed her hands down the front of her pale pink scrubs. Then she pulled the door wide and stepped out onto her porch to watch her cousin push Mason’s wheelchair up the long ramp that her brother had finished building just that morning over the front and back steps so that once her boarder did arrive, they’d be more easily able to get him in and out of the house.
She realized she couldn’t quite look Mason in the face and focused instead on her cousin. “Everything go okay with the flight out from Connecticut?”
“How would he know?” Mason answered before Axel could. His pale green gaze drew hers. “He wasn’t the one cooped up on the plane.”
A frown pulled his slashing eyebrows together over his aquiline nose. Combined with the dark shadow of beard on his jaw—evidence that he hadn’t shaved in at least a few days—he looked thoroughly put out.
She lifted an eyebrow and managed a calm smile. “Feeling a little cranky, are we?”
“What is it with you nurses and the eternal we?”
“Ignore him,” Axel advised as he pushed the wheelchair past her into the house. He pulled a fat, oversized envelope from beneath his arm and handed it to her. “He’s been bitching since I picked him up in Cheyenne. Here’re his meds.”
Courtney took the envelope and looked inside at the various prescription bottles it contained. She’d already reviewed a copy of her new patient’s medical chart. It had been faxed to her yesterday after Axel had called her out of the blue to ask if she was interested in taking on a home health care patient.
She’d done similar work before. Just not when the patient in question was living under her roof. But the money he’d said the patient would pay had been enough to get her interest, and in a hurry.
It was only after she’d agreed and had asked how he knew the patient that she’d learned who her new roomie was going to be.
There was no earthly way, at that point, that Courtney would have been able to back out without explaining to her cousin why. And she had no intention of sharing those particular details.
So, she’d squelched her reservations and reviewed the file when it arrived. Even though she was trained for objectivity, she’d been horrified at the injuries that Mason had sustained. She also hadn’t been able to help wondering how on earth he’d been hurt, but that particular information had not been in his chart.
Which meant it was probably work related.
She was ridiculously familiar with the hush-hush aura surrounding the company that Mason worked for, because it was the same company that many of her relatives had worked for. Or still did.
Of course she wasn’t supposed to know much about Hollins-Winword. But she wasn’t an idiot. She had ears that worked perfectly well. The first time she’d heard the name, she’d been a schoolgirl. As she’d gotten older, she’d discerned more.
And then when Ryan went missing …
She broke off the thought. It was pointless reliving the misery of believing her big brother was dead, because he was home now. Safe and sound, miraculously enough a newlywed with a family of his own.
She followed Axel and Mason into the house and nudged the door closed behind her as she studied the labels on the prescription bottles. Various industrial-strength antibiotics and vitamins and minerals. When she got to the last bottle, though, she frowned a little.
She’d read in Mason’s file that he refused to take prescription-strength pain medication, yet that’s exactly what she was looking at.
There was nothing in his file about drug allergies, so—if he was anything like the men in her family—it was probably more likely some macho belief that real men didn’t need anything to take the edge off their pain, even if it was only for a few days.
She dropped the narcotic back in the envelope and stepped around Mason’s protruding leg cast. She set the envelope on the square dining room table near the arch separating the great room from the kitchen and turned toward the men. “Your room is at the end of the hall.” Meeting Mason’s gaze only made her skin want to flush, so she focused on the few stray, silver strands glimmering among the dark brown hair that sprang back thick and straight from his forehead. “The bathroom is next to it. You are able to manage with crutches, aren’t you?”
“It’s not pretty, but yeah.” He sounded marginally less cranky than before, and Courtney couldn’t help but feel a rush of sympathy for the man.
No matter what had transpired between them that Valentine’s night, the man was recovering from several serious injuries. He had matching long, blue casts on his right arm and his left leg. She also knew that he’d suffered several bruised ribs. He was in pain and, for now, was having to depend on someone else to help him with basic functions from bathing to eating. Of course he was cranky.
Anyone would be.
She looked at her cousin. “Why don’t you bring
