A Love to Treasure (Sunriver Dreams Book 1) (25 page)

She balled clean snow in her hands and applied it to his head. The cold ought to wake him, and it would help with the nasty gash too.

A minute later, he groaned and slowly his lids opened. “What happened?”

Maybe he had a brain injury.

“You crashed. Other than the gash on your head, are you okay?” She wanted to shout at him to hurry and get out but forced herself to at least appear calm. No flames were coming from the hood—yet.

He shifted and winced. “I think so, but I hurt in places I didn’t know existed.”

If she weren’t so scared, she’d laugh at his attempt at humor. She straightened and looked around to determine what caused the crash but didn’t see anything—probably a deer or a patch of black ice. At least the engine had stopped smoking or steaming or whatever it’d been doing. “I imagine you’re going to be sore for a few days. Your pickup is a mess and won’t be going anywhere without a tow.”

Her stomach swirled at the blood oozing from the gash on his forehead. She hated the sight of blood. This man needed her help, and she was the only able-bodied person around for miles. A tissue box on the floor at his feet caught her attention. “Hold on a second. We need to get you out of here, but first…” she slid her arm beneath his legs and grabbed a wad of tissues, then pressed them to his forehead. “We should stop this bleeding.”

He jerked away. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He laid his hand over hers. “It’s okay. I’ve got it. Thanks,” his voice gentled. He released his seatbelt and gingerly stepped out of the Ford Ranger 4x4. He swayed.

She slipped an arm around his waist. “Easy there. Don’t want you falling or passing out.” She chuckled nervously. “I’ve already got one invalid to take care of.” She shot him a smile, hoping to ease the tension that hung between them.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “How is my mother doing?”

She released her hold on the man and looked at him more closely. He had the Belafonte blue eyes and broad shoulders. “You’re Stephen?”

He nodded, then winced as pain shot across his face.

“You’re early.” She wasn’t ready for him. Mona would not be pleased with her. “We weren’t expecting you until next week.” His crash had interrupted her mission to clean his cabin and make it homey. In his current state he probably wouldn’t notice two-plus years’ worth of dust, but just to be safe, she’d take him to the main house, then slip out and take care of the cabin once he was settled.

“Mother made it sound like she needed me, so I came back early. Are you her assistant?”

“Yes. I’m Bailey.”

“Good to meet you. However, I wish I’d made it to the house first. Let me grab my bag.”

Bailey watched as the man who towered over her five-foot-seven-inch frame, slowly ducked his head and reach across the seat.

He twisted back around, holding a small duffle bag. Pain etched on his face.

She pushed her glasses up higher onto her nose and stuffed her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. “Is that all you have?”

“I like to travel light.”

“But you’ve been out of the country for a long time. How could you only have one small carryon?”

He quirked a grin. “Sorry, I was trying to be funny. The airline lost my luggage.”

“Figures. You’re really having a bad day.”

“I’ve had worse.” A haunted look darkened his eyes as he limped along the snow-covered driveway toward the house.

She adjusted her gait to match his slower pace. “I’m sure Mona will be thrilled that you came home early. Should I take you to the hospital, or would you like to come to the main house and let me bandage the cut on your head, and wait and see how you feel?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go to the house. I’m anxious to see my mother.”

Stephen glanced at the woman beside him, still trying to understand what his mother had been complaining about in her emails. Bailey seemed pleasant enough, even if the red and hot pink knit cap on her long, kinky hair looked homemade, and the too large jacket she wore over her jeans didn’t do her any favors. It suddenly occurred to him that his teeth were chattering so he quickened his pace even though every step hurt. He should have thought to have his brother, John, leave an extra pair of boots in his pickup when he’d dropped it off at the airport. No one besides John knew he was coming home a week early. He’d been away long enough, and it sounded as though his mother needed him. He still couldn’t believe she’d had a stroke.

He glanced toward Bailey and caught her watching him closely. Compassion lingered in her hazel eyes. She pushed her large, dark-rimmed glasses higher on her nose and shot him a look of concern—or was it unease? “Are you okay?”

“I was wondering the same thing about you.” She rested a hand on his arm. “You’re injured, just totaled your pickup, and I’m not sure, but you probably have a concussion. Who knows what else is wrong—and you’re worried about
me
? At least let me carry your duffle bag.”

He started to shake his head then thought better of it. What he needed was a hot shower, a painkiller, and an espresso. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it. So tell me, how is my mother really doing?”

“I suppose she’s doing as well as can be expected, but she’s not a young woman, and from what I understand, her road to recovery will be long. She can’t be alone for any length of time because she has anxiety attacks, which has made keeping the business running smoothly difficult. I can’t do the job I’m being paid to do and take care of your mother. Sooner or later our clients are going to start complaining. I’m an interior designer, not a nurse, or a good cook or housekeeper.” She pressed her lips together and looked away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He stopped and gave her the look that had made most grown men squirm. “Even though I don’t know you and my head is pounding, I can tell you’re not telling me something. I insist you tell me.”

“Fine, but for the record, dumping this all on you right now may be more than you want to hear.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said drily.

She crossed her arms. “I’m really worried about her. I take her to therapy sessions, and she doesn’t seem to be improving. On top of that, she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, and she refuses to eat right. Granted, I’m not used to cooking for a diabetic, and I’ve been struggling with how to feed her, but she is such a picky eater. It’s been a challenge.”

“I hadn’t heard about her diabetes.”

“She’s a private woman, so I’m not surprised. I doubt anyone besides her doctor and I know. Unfortunately, her mood has been less than happy, and she doesn’t want to be told what she can and can’t eat. I’m at a loss for how to help her.” She snapped her mouth closed.

“I see.” The diagnosis didn’t surprise him since the disease ran in the family, but why hadn’t Mom told his brothers? Surely one of them would have hired a cook for her. “I wish someone would have told me the extent of her problem. Had I realized how bad things were, I would have come home as soon as I learned of her stroke. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this on your own. I take it my family has been of little help?”

“They do the best they can.”

What was going on here? It wasn’t like his brothers to neglect family. Stephen’s stomach knotted. If his mom was doing so poorly, why hadn’t anyone told him, and why was an employee of their construction and design company taking care of her and not family? What had happened to everyone while he was away? “Thank you for being honest. Now that I’m here, your responsibilities will shift to your actual job. My mom has always been a penny pincher and refused to hire out for work she can do herself. Considering the circumstances, though, maybe I can talk her into allowing me to hire a cook. But I make no promises. My mom is a stubborn woman.”

She gave him a stiff nod. “Are you planning to stay in the main house?”

“No, but I will spend several hours each day there so you can slip out and deal with your actual job.”

The look of worry in her eyes made him wonder, but right now he’d talked all he could. The house came into view, and he stopped to take it in and catch his breath. The snow set off the mountain-like lodge as if welcoming him home. “Wow, it still looks amazing.”

She chuckled. “I’d have thought you’d be immune to its beauty.”

“Never,” he breathed softly and continued forward. Decorative greenery and pinecones hung from the cedar pillars that supported the wrap-around porch, giving it a festive feel. “Nice touch. Did you do that?” He motioned with his free hand toward the porch.

She nodded. “I started decorating last week. Mona plans to host Thanksgiving and Christmas here and wants everything to be perfect.”

“I thought she was stuck in bed.”

“Not anymore.” She shrugged. “I guess she’s improved, just not as much as I’d hoped. She gets around, but slowly and with the help of a walker. Some tasks are harder than others for her.” Bailey led the way up the porch steps and pushed into the house. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen. Take a seat, and I’ll be right back.” She scurried from the massive entryway and disappeared around the corner. He settled into the nearest chair. Nothing had changed in the two-and-a-half years he’d been gone. Not even the furniture had been moved, or the picture of him and his late wife Rebecca that rested on the mantel. He swallowed the lump in his throat and averted his eyes.

“Here we go.” Bailey popped the top off the kit and tore the wrapper off an alcohol swab. “This will probably sting.”

He sucked in a sharp breath when she touched it to his cut—she wasn’t kidding. “How bad is it?” He studied her face for a hint at the condition of his wound. Her hazel eyes with speckles of gold gave nothing away.

“It’s actually not nearly as bad as I expected, considering how much it bled.” Her tender touch didn’t surprise him. Bailey had an air of gentleness about her—she radiated quiet. No wonder Mother was going nuts. She liked constant action and noise. Rebecca and Mother had gotten on very well. She was like the daughter Mom never had. Those two together had been a force of nature. He chuckled.

“Something funny?” A beautiful smile lit Bailey’s face. Her eyes sparkled in the dancing light from the picture windows.

“Being here brings back memories.”

“Good ones I hope.” She applied a couple of bandages to his forehead.

A whisper of pine scent wafted the air around her. She must have been working with the branches before she’d discovered his wreck.

“Mostly.” He reached up and gently grasped her wrist, drawing her hand away from his head. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

She stepped back, slipping from his grasp. “Okay. If you start to feel like you need to go to the hospital, let me know.”

He started to tell her he could take care of himself, but the concern in her eyes stopped him. “Thank you.”

“Will you be okay for a bit by yourself with your mom? There’s something I need to do.”

“Sure.”

She still wore her outdoor clothes, and her tennis shoes were squeaking as she stepped past him toward the door.

“You should wear boots.”

She turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Your shoes are soaked.”

She looked down. “I’m fine.” She spun around and bolted from the house.

Surely, she wasn’t embarrassed by his comment. But something sent her fleeing.

“Bailey!”

He’d nearly forgotten about his mother. He rushed up the sweeping staircase as quickly as his sore muscles would allow and burst into his mother’s bedroom.

She sat up in her bed. “Oh!” Mom’s eyes filled with sudden tears that quickly streamed down her aging cheeks. “You’re home.” Her words came out slowly, but clearly.

He sidled up to her bed. “I am.”

She wiped her eyes with a shaky hand. “You look awful. What happened?”

He could say the same about her but knew better than to comment about the side of her face that drooped slightly. Mom had always hidden her age well, but her seventy-three years were evident now. “I hit a patch of ice and wrapped my pickup around that old Ponderosa Pine I wanted you to let me take out years ago. That thing is a menace.” He quirked a grin to make sure she knew he was teasing.

She wrapped his hand in hers and gave it a weak squeeze. “I’m glad you lived to tell me about it. Now, where’s my addle-brained assistant? I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately. Ever since she moved into the house, she hasn’t been herself.” Her brow furrowed as she looked past him toward the door.