Unpredictable Love Page 6

“Any word on his leg?”

  “Nobody’s making any predictions.”

  “Eyes?” Nan sipped from her mug.

  Jory shook her head. “These things take time and patience.”

  “Are you sure you want to stick around for this?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Nan pushed up from her seat, patted her niece on the arm, and said, “Good girl. Your mom would be proud.”

  Jory stopped on her way to the living room. “Hey, this is no charity case.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  Jory shrugged. “Must be that unpredictable love you mentioned.”

  Nan chuckled as she headed for her car.

  Jory tucked the book under her arm and locked the door. She rolled down the windows of the vehicle to breathe fresh, morning air. The sun was shining, and she hummed a favorite love song as she drove slowly, ambling along a winding back road to the paper. Roses twining around the white picket fence marking the Dailey’s property were in full bloom. Jory admired the brilliant, pink blooms stretching their petals to the sun.

  Laura waved from her kitchen. Jory raised a palm to Maude Finch, the local librarian, and several other townsfolk she knew and liked. The fresh air and warm temperature lifted her spirits. Impossible to be sad or depressed on a day like this. Birds sang. Joy filled her heart. She had fallen in love with the countryside and a banged up Marine.

  After work, she climbed into her 2010 Toyota and steered for the hospital. She thought about topics to discuss with Trent as she maneuvered over the fifteen miles of country road.

  She turned off the ignition, but kept singing “Can’t Smile Without You” softly as she made her way down the hall. Nods to familiar faces brought smiles in return. It had only been ten days, but she knew everybody there.

  Busy nurses and volunteers were relieved to have her taking over entertaining SSGT Trent Stevens. One of the nurses confided in Jory that she was his only visitor. The news squeezed her heart. Marie, her favorite nurse, stopped her before she turned the corner by the water cooler.

  “You might want to wait,” Marie said, turning her head to stare into an empty room.

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, there’s somebody in there. Military.”

  “Oh, you mean a superior? Giving him some confidential information?”

  “Uh, no. I doubt that. But, well, just the same. I’d wait, if I were you.” Marie shifted her gaze away from the young woman again.

  Before Jory could ask her any more questions, a doctor signaled Marie, and she scurried off to join him. Not afraid of much in this world, and curious as hell, Jory proceeded slowly toward Trent’s room and stopped a few feet from the door. She heard voices.

  “Glad to see you’re doing okay,” a woman said.

  “I’m holding my own.”

  “About us…”

  “Hey, forget it. There is no us, remember?”

  “I know what we agreed, but I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care.”

  “Thanks for stopping by. You don’t owe me anything, Sheila.”

  “Yeah, an Afghanistan thing.”

  “That’s what we said. And it still stands.”

  “As long as you’re okay with that?”

  “Of course. You’re a great lady. I hope you find the right guy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “At least one who’s in one piece.”

  “A good place to start.”

  Trent and the woman laughed together for a quick moment then silence.

  “I’ve got to be getting back.”

  “Shipping out?”

  “Tonight.”

  There was silence then a faint sound, which Jory figured might be kissing. Heat flamed her cheeks. Eavesdropping had never been her thing, but she needed to know. When she looked up, a tall woman in full military dress halted abruptly. Jory was blocking her way.

  “You must be the girl who reads to him. Candy striper?” Sheila asked.

  Anger burned in Jory’s chest. “Not a candy striper. And not a girl. A woman and a friend.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I see. Thanks for taking care of him.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you,” she said, her spine stiffening.

  “Hey, chill. I’m not your competition, lady. A pair of eyes might be.” Sheila brushed by Jory and strode down the hallway.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Jory called after her.

  The woman stopped. “I mean, when he can see again, he can do better than you.”

  “Bitch,” Jory muttered to herself.

  Forgetting completely about his condition, she stormed into his room. After slamming the book down on the chair, she fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. “Who the hell was that?”

  * * * *

  “Jory?” Trent pushed up on his elbows, only to fall back down, moaning in pain.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t sit up, Trent.”

  “Could you raise the bed, please?”

  Jory pushed the button that raised the head so he was sitting up.

  “There. Better. What are you so mad about?”

  “Who was that woman?”

  “Sheila? A friend.”

  “Friend with benefits?”

  She watched a blush fill his cheeks. He fidgeted with the seam on the sheet.

  “No answer?”

  “Look, Jory, she was long before you came along.”

  “Really? She didn’t look that long ago.”

  “Honestly. We had a…a…thing. She was in Afghanistan too. There was nothing to do. We got to talking. You know how these things go.” Still the red didn’t drain from his face.

  “No, actually. I don’t know how those things go.”

  “Didn’t you say you just broke up with your boyfriend?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, there you go. So, you were knocking boots with someone, probably while you were writing to me!” He pushed up a little straighter, his face paled.

  “I wasn’t sleeping with him.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I wasn’t!”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. If you’re not sleeping with someone, you say you’re dating. If he’s your boyfriend, you’re sleeping together.”

  “Oh, and when did you make up this rule?”

  “It’s common knowledge.”

  “Okay, then. We were dating.”

  “I don’t believe a guy hanging with a girl who looks and smells like you do did not make a pass. Several passes.”

  “You’re right. He did. Got turned down every time, and that’s why we broke up.”

  “How come you turned him down?”

  “Because he was never anything but a friend.”

  Trent’s voice softened. He reached for her hand. She laced her fingers with his.

  “Would you turn me down?” he said, almost in a whisper.

  Now, it was her turn to have heat in her cheeks. “Don’t ask me that. You can’t anyway. So what’s the point?”

  “I wanna know. I’m not always gonna be in this hospital bed.”

  “Please don’t ask me.”

  “Oh, right. I get it. Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. Hell, I wouldn’t want to sleep with a gimpy, blind guy either.” He withdrew his hand.

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “Sure. I get it. Don’t have to knock me on the head with a baseball bat. I don’t feel like reading today. You can go.” He turned away from her.

  Frustration welled up inside her. How could she tell him that he’d not want to sleep with her when he found out she didn’t look like that picture? “Maybe you wouldn’t want to sleep with me.”

  “After seeing that picture? There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want to sleep with you.”

  She trapped her lower lip between her teeth. This wasn’t going the way she wanted. “I’d love to make love with a gim
py, blind hunk who gave his all for his country,” she muttered.

  “You mean that?” He faced her.

  She nodded.

  “Are you nodding or shaking your head?”

  “Sorry. Nodding.”

  A sexy grin spread across his face. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “Another trip to surgery, Staff Sergeant,” Marie said, striding into the room, armed with her tools to take his vitals.

  “Really? Again?”

  “Yep. Tomorrow morning. Jory, would you skedaddle, please?”

  “Aye, aye. See you tomorrow. We start East of Eden as soon as you’re able.”

  “He might be pretty loopy tomorrow. Stop by and visit, but save the book for another day.”

  Jory nodded. She gave Trent’s hand a squeeze and headed for her car.

  While she drove home, she made a decision. At the dinner table, she shared it with her sister and her aunt.

  “I’ve decided not to tell Trent the truth yet.”

  Both women looked up from their plates.

  “Really?” Nan said.

  “Yep. Not until he’s better. When, actually, if he gets his eyesight back, I’ll tell him then. And bow out of the picture. Right now, he needs me. And it’s where I should be. Where I want to be. So, no need for any great, heartfelt confessions. The poor guy has enough to deal with.”

  Amber nodded. “Makes perfect sense to me.”

  “Me too. Your secret is safe with us. Right, Amber?”

  “Yep. My lips are sealed.”

  Jory let out a breath. She may not have a lot of family, but what she had was the best.

  * * * *

  Jory returned the next day at six. Trent’s door was closed. She opened it slowly. He was asleep, his handsome face pale, his leg freshly bandaged. He tossed for a moment, causing her to stop dead, fearing she’d disturbed him. He quickly stopped moving and lay as still as a cadaver.

  The journalist stole softly to his bedside. She touched his face. His skin was cool, so she pulled up the blanket, covering him to his shoulders. Then, she bent over and kissed the scruffy cheek. His breathing was even.

  “My poor baby,” she whispered to herself. Jory ran her hand gently through his hair and kissed his forehead.

  He stirred. “Jory?” His voice was husky.

  “I’m here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  His hand groped for her. She moved to the edge of his bed and touched her palm to his. He closed his fingers around hers.

  “When I get out of here, when I’m well, I’m gonna make your dream come true,” he mumbled.

  She leaned closer to hear better. “What dream?”

  “The white picket fence.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that dream!”

  “I’m gonna give you everything you’ve been missing.” He raised her hand to his lips.

  She touched his face. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

  “Gonna love you. Take care of you. You’ll see.”

  As quickly as he had awakened, he drifted off.

  She sat still. His even breathing indicated sleep. She gently slid her hand from his and eased up from the bed. She blew him a kiss and tiptoed toward the door. As she was leaving, Marie turned the corner and almost smacked into the young woman.

  “How is he?” Jory asked, twisting a tissue in her hand.

  “Fine. He’ll be okay. Surgery went well.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  As Jory drove home, his words repeated in her head. Emotion gathered behind her eyes, causing her to pull over more than once to dry them. Having a man to take care of her had been so beyond her reach, she’d stopped wishing for it. Could she have that someday? Would Trent possibly be the one? She shook her head. He had so many hurdles of his own to jump.

  “First things first, Jory. The man needs to walk and see,” she said, aloud.

  She had a quiet evening with her family, making popcorn and watching a movie. It seemed odd not to be with Trent, sipping water to wet her whistle for reading. And he’d be lying on his side, shifting to his back, trying to get comfortable and continue listening.

  They’d talk a bit too. He’d ask her about her job, and they’d talk about birds. Jory had put all the feeders back up. She shared bird stories, relating which species was being too aggressive and which ones had learned to share. He laughed and offered advice. Having him in her life elicited smiles and cheerful expressions from the reporter.

  Two days after the surgery, he was up for visitors. She entered as he was unwrapping a package.

  “Dan gave me this,” he said, pulling off the paper to reveal an electric razor.

  “A razor? What for?”

  “I’m military. I’m used to being clean shaven. This may be fashionable, but I don’t like it.” He rubbed his jaw.

  Jory liked the dark stubble shading his cheeks, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  “I can’t do this myself.”

  “You want me to do it?”

  “Would you mind?” His voice was soft and persuasive.

  She plucked the machine from his hand. “I don’t know how to use this thing.”

  “Don’t you shave your legs?”

  Embarrassment shut her mouth.

  “You don’t have to answer, but I assume you do.”

  “I don’t use anything like this.”

  “It’s easy. I’ll tell you what to do.”

  “Okay. If you trust me.”

  He laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

  “You’ll have to scoot over,” she said, approaching the bed.

  Trent hissed in pain as he inched to the left. Once he stopped, he grimaced, locking his jaw. A tiny tear slipped down the side of his face. He swiped at it.

  “Maybe I’d better come closer to you,” she said.

  He nodded.

  She braced her hands on the mattress, easing her bottom down gently until her hip touched his side. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  She opened the package, unwinding the cord. It took several minutes to get set up. During that time, he told her what to do, illustrating with his hands.

  “I usually use a regular razor and cream. Haven’t used one of these since I was a kid. My dad gave me an electric. So, this’ll be kinda new for me too.”

  She turned on the machine. “You’ve gotta sit real still now. No talking.”

  “How can I tell you what to do?”

  “Hand signals.” The buzzing razor vibrated a little in her hand. Trent lay very still against the raised head of the bed. She took a second to stare at his fabulous face. Strong jaw, lips just the right fullness, dark eyebrows to match his hair. His nose was perfectly formed, just long enough and not feminine. She ran her palm along his cheek. He made a small pleasure sound, causing her to whip her hand away as if his skin had been on fire.

  “Come on. Don’t get shy now.”

  “No talking!” Tension coiled in her shoulder muscles. She took a deep breath to steady slightly trembling fingers. Jory placed the head of the cutting machine on his jaw and moved it up his cheek, gently stretching the skin underneath to get the shave close.

  He made a thumb’s up gesture with his right hand. His left gripped the side rail. Jory smiled. The razor skimmed over the rough stubble on his chin. He drew his lip up, to give her better access to the hair growing there. She followed with her fingertips, to feel if she had gotten it all. The smooth texture of his warm skin sent a thrill through her. He smelled of soap, a pleasant scent.

  Guiding the machine over the contours of his face, she couldn’t ignore the sensations zinging through her body. Her blood began to heat as she moved slowly over every inch of the lower half. His breath caressed her. Touching him so intimately sparked desire in her. She smoothed her hand over the shaved areas, barely controlling a yearning to follow with her lips and tongue.

  His steady breathing came a little faster as she continued. Pink shaded his cheeks, giving him a he
althy glow. She saved the trickiest part, his mustache, for last. He pulled his top lip down while she zeroed in on the area. When she was done, she blew out a breath then palmed the side of his face.

  “Just checking to make sure I got it all,” she said, a little breathless.

  He grabbed her hand and held it to his lips, inches from hers. The color in his cheeks began to fade. “Now, you slap me with some aftershave, and I groan at the sting.”

  She remained close by his side. “Is that right?”

  “There’s only one way to tell if the shave is close enough,” he whispered.

  “What’s that?” She returned the razor to the nightstand.

  “This.” He slipped his fingers around her neck and pulled her closer, his thumb searching, finding her lips. He outlined them before pressing his against them. Jory’s pulse jumped at the feel and taste of him. He increased the pressure, and she opened. His tongue was inside in a flash, exploring slowly.

  She had her long, chestnut hair pulled up and fastened with a clip. Never losing his liplock, he reached around behind her. He found the barrette and released it. The heavy softness fell to her shoulders, where he combed it with his fingers. She cupped his face.

  He ran his thumb over the shell of her ear, then down to her collarbone, past where her pulse beat wildly, like a native drum. Worried he’d feel her reaction, she squirmed, inching back, but kissing him was too sweet. She wanted more.

  He finally released her, and, with uneven breath, he whispered, “Let me touch you.”

  Her brain screamed no, but her libido screamed yes. She was silent.

  “We’ve known each other for months. If we’d been dating instead of corresponding, we’d have made love by now,” he said, his lips barely touching hers.

  She couldn’t argue with his logic.

  “Please, let me touch you.”

  “Okay.”

  His hand was warm on her neck as he slid it down, stopping first to fuss with the buttons of her blouse. She quickly unfastened the top three. He smiled at her. “Thanks.” He explored her shoulder with his palm, his thumb stroking under her collarbone, as he slid his hand down over her breast.

  He sucked in air as he closed his fingers around the firm flesh encased in a bra. Snaking his arm around her side to her back, he flipped open the hooks of her bra and dove underneath to make skin-to-skin contact. This time, she was the one who hissed.