I scoff. “What’s not to like, Cooke? This place is amazing.”
“There’s a study next door to this bedroom, plus three more bedrooms up top and another bath as well.”
“It’s a big house.”
“Aye.” He takes my hand now that I’m free of luggage. “Let me show you the back garden. It’s where I spend most of my time on nice days like this one.”
Cloudy and cool is a nice day? I guess it is. Especially now that I’m here with him. I can’t remember a better day than today. Well, maybe the one when he showed up at the Hub. That day was better than nice.
I follow him through the living room and out the sliding glass door onto a brick patio that overlooks a decent-size yard and… what’s that? A freaking river? “You’ve got a river.” And there’s a small yellow paddle boat pulled up into the yard. “Do you take your boat out?”
“The dinghy, aye. Or I did before.” He points to his leg.
I look down at the cast and the metal contraption that’s swirling around his leg, then back up at him. “What happened to it?”
“Broken fibula and tibia.”
“Are those pins…?”
“It’s called an external fixator. The rods are inside, holding my bones in place so they’ll heal.”
I wince but try not to let him see because he looks rather pale now. “It must hurt. Let’s sit you down.” I point to one of the cushioned lounge chairs he’s got on his patio.
“I think I will rest. I’m a bit winded from the shock of seeing you.” He lowers himself into his chair and raises the leg with the brace. I search for something to put underneath it. Finding a small pillow on the ground, I set it beneath his knee, right above the metal contraption. “Thank you, Quinn,” he says laying his head back and sighing. “This last couple of weeks has been brutal.”
“I bet.” I push his hair away from his face and run my palm over his cheek. “I like the beard.”
“You do?” he asks, one eye open and peering up at me.
“I do. It’s sexy.”
“Sexy, eh?”
“Yep,” I say, popping thep.
“You’d better kiss me, then. If I’m so sexy.”
“Not before I brush my teeth.” And shower. “Mind if I go clean up? Then I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Aye. I’ll stay put.” He sounds drowsy. I bet my arrival and house tour is the most he’s done since his injury.
“Be right back.” I race back into the house, down the hallway, and back into his bedroom. Pulling my suitcase over to an out-of-the-way spot, I unzip it and grab my toiletry bag and a change of clothes. Searching the bathroom cupboards, I locate a towel and a cloth. Then I have the daunting task of figuring out how to use his fancy-ass shower.
When I think I’ve got one showerhead working with warm water, I strip down and step in. I moan at the feel of the water sluicing down my body, removing the airplane grime. I stand still, just relishing the water splattering over my tired muscles, relaxing me. I scrub my body and face, then wash and condition my hair until I’m clean. Using a plush towel, I dry myself, brush my teeth twice, and dress in comfy leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. I feel renewed. Folding up my dirty things, I lay them in my suitcase and hang the towel over a hook on the bathroom door.
When I head back outside, Cooke is snoring. “Poor baby,” I whisper as I touch his hair again. I make my way back into the house and start to scrounge through his cupboards and fridge. There’s not much to work with. He’s got eggs and bread, at least, so I scramble eggs and make toast. I’ll need to go to the store for him, get him all stocked up.
Carrying out his plate with a fork and a cloth napkin I found in one of the drawers, I nudge Cooke’s shoulder.
“What?” he snaps.
Oh, wow. Cranky. “I made you food, Cooke.”
I watch him settle back into his chair and fall back to sleep. No doubt he’s tired from the pain. It’s hard to sleep when you hurt.
I set his plate on the large outdoor dining table, then retrieve mine from the kitchen. Sitting on the lounge chair next to him, I eat my breakfast while he snores. I feel like I should wake him up so he can eat, but since I don’t know for sure, I stare at him some more. “Screw it.” I lean over and shake his shoulder.
“What the feck?” he says, opening his eyes. When they first see me, they pinch together in a scowl. Then, like a light bulb switching on, he smiles. “Love.”
