Seeing Red (22 page)

“He’s going into surgery.” The nurse tossed a chin toward the waiting room. “Have a seat.”

H
e was five again, and had knocked a glass of milk over. He stood there quivering in his own skin staring up into his father’s menacing face.

“Got to teach you a lesson, boy.”

Joe knew the drill and bit his lip to keep his mouth shut because he wouldn’t cry. But his father was all hands. Huge, hard, cruel hands—

“There, that’ll help the pain. Joe? Joe, come on now, open your eyes.”

Joe cracked open one eye and found himself surrounded by white and metal and a bright light that made him shut his eye again. His tongue felt swollen and his brain hazy.

“Do you remember what happened?” a female voice asked.

His nose was assaulted with a metallic scent, and a warm hand settled on his arm. Fixing an IV he realized, and his eyes flew open again.

The nurse smiled at him. “Hi there. Welcome back.”

He remembered being in the convenience store, remembered the shouts, the punk lifting a gun, pointing it at an officer. He remembered thinking it was just a kid, a stupid kid, then the explosion of the gun near his ear and the fiery agony as the bullet had torn through his boot.

He’d been shot in the damn foot by a kid.

Jesus, he was getting old if he’d let that happen, and that sucked too. He lifted his head and stared down at his foot, which was bandaged up like a mummy. “It’s still there,” he said with some relief, and lay back again.

“It most definitely is,” the nurse said. “You have a nice hole in it though, and you won’t be using it any time in the near future, but it’s there. Your wife has been pacing the hallways waiting for you to wake up. Should I send her in?”

“My wife?” He lifted a hand to his head. No bandages.

“What’s the matter?” the nurse asked.

“Did I hit my head?”

“No.” The nurse frowned. “Does it hurt?”

The drugs had kicked in now, and things were nice and fuzzy. “I’m not sure.” In the opened doorway he locked on to a set of jade green eyes, red rimmed with a smudge of mascara under each. They belonged to the one face that could both stop his heart and kick-start it with one look.

Summer sent him a tremulous smile. “Hi honey, I’m home.”

“I just loaded him with morphine,” the nurse warned her with a little pat on Joe’s arm. “He’ll be quite loopy, and it’s possible he won’t remember this at all.”

“Christ, I hope I do,” he murmured. “It’s not every day I get to lay eyes on my
wife.
”

Summer’s cheeks glowed red but she moved to his bedside. “You okay?”

“I don’t remember our honeymoon. Did you wear a pretty silky teddy thing?” He closed his eyes because his eyelids felt too heavy. At the same time, energy surged through him, making his skin feel too tight. “Because just naked is good too.”

“Joe.”

“Summer,” he answered obediently. “I can’t feel a damn thing. That’s a nice change. Even my heart doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, Joe.”

Because she sounded so sad, he blinked and tried to concentrate, but it wasn’t easy. “My foot has a hole in it.”

“I know.” Staring down at his IV, she stroked his arm gently. “I was so scared.”

She was so pretty with her sweet worry, with her fiery hair brushing her golden shoulders. She was wearing two tank tops layered together, one white, one sky blue, and a denim skirt that showed off her mile-long legs. He felt a…grin split his face. “You married me. You must really looooove me.”

A frown turned her mouth upside down. “You aren’t that drugged, are you? You know we’re not really married.”

“I didn’t take a bullet to the brain.” Sighing, he lay back and closed his eyes. “I know where we are. You want to be friends, and occasionally fuck me.” Suddenly the morphine wasn’t enough. He realized his chest did hurt. His head hurt. His foot burned like a son of a bitch. And he was quickly sinking into the black pit where he’d run into his father’s fists again. “Red?”

He felt her hand on his jaw, and he sighed, turning his face into her touch. “Don’t go.”

But he fell into the pit before he could hear her answer.

For three days the Creative Interiors case took a backseat to Joe’s shooting. When he was discharged from the hospital, Summer drove him home and set him up in his bed, surrounded by the flowers and gifts people had sent, which looked almost obnoxiously cheerful when compared to his stubborn, set, irritated face.

“Where’s Ashes?” he asked.

“Kenny’s got her.”

He frowned. “You should have taken me into work.”

“The doctor said no.”

He sent her a brooding glance.

“It’s not the end of the world,” she said, carefully propping his foot up on a pillow. “Taking some time off.”

“Are you sure?”

In the act of smoothing his covers, she looked over at him, saw the irony in his expression. “Okay, maybe at first I thought it was, but I got used to it. I sure got used to seeing your face whenever I wanted.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ve had just enough drugs to take that as a compliment.” He lay on his bed very still, as if moving a single inch hurt.

The doctor had said no weight on the foot for one week, but after that he’d recover quickly. Summer wanted to believe that with all her might but he looked so haggard and hollow and pale. His mouth was tight, as if the pain meds weren’t working, or maybe that was just because she was hovering.

Not wanting to leave him alone, she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, wife,” he said, eyes still closed, not moving a single muscle.

“Do you need anything?”

“Nah. Just checking to see if you’d answer to the title.”

“Funny.”

One side of his mouth quirked, and she caught a flash of his dimple. “Gotta get your kicks where you can when you’re down,” he murmured.

“You won’t be down for long. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. I want a Big Mac and a Supersized order of fries, extra carbs and cholesterol please.”

He’d lost weight in the past few days. And since he was still so carefully not moving, she figured the order was more wishful thinking than anything else. “How about some soup and tea?”

He made a very soft noise of aversion and then was quiet.

So was she. For days she’d been living with the nightmare of what could have happened. How much worse this could have been. He could have taken the bullet in his chest, or in the head, in which case, she might be sitting by his grave—

She put her fingers over her mouth.

“You going to stare at me until I’m better? Because that might be a while.”

“Yes,” she said a little shakily. “Until you’re better, I’m not going to take my eyes off you.”

“Even when I’m in the shower?”

“Why not? I’ve seen it all before.”

“Not on a regular basis. Only when you’re needing a distraction.”

She stared down at him, horrified that that’s what he thought he was. She had nobody but herself to blame for that, because she’d started this whole thing with him for exactly that. A distraction. “Joe.” Her throat went tight. “You know how I feel about you, right? You know I—”

He opened his eyes for this.

But it wasn’t as easy when he was looking at her, she discovered. Not that there was anything remotely easy about speaking of her feelings at all. “Um…”

He arched a brow.

“I…”

He snorted and shut his eyes again. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

God, she felt like a fool. Why couldn’t she just say it? He made her laugh, he made her feel good, he made her happy. And if that meant she’d deepened her feelings to…love…then that’s what it was.

“I’m hot,” he said.

Pathetically grateful for the break, Summer leapt up and pulled off his blanket.

“Still hot.”

“You’re only in a sheet.” But she removed that too, dragging it aside in a way that he could easily pull it back over him if he wanted. He wore only low slung faded gray sweat bottoms. His chest was bare except for the light dusting of hair that ran from pec to pec. His belly rose and fell with his breathing, hard and ridged with muscle, but also nearly concave from not eating for days.

He hadn’t shaved, and she looked at the shadow on his jaw. At the shadows beneath his eyes. And everything within her softened, melted. “Can I get you anything?”

“A hammer to the head.”

“You need more pain meds?”

“No.”

He’d been stubborn about those, and she knew why. He hated to be out of control, hated to feel weak. She shifted a little closer and put her hand on his chest, and then frowned at how hot he really was. “You
are
too warm.”

His fingers came up to cover hers. She would have softened some more, melted some more, but he shoved her hand off him. “You don’t have to stay,” he said. “Kenny’s coming later. I’ll be fine until then.”

“You think I don’t want to be here?”

He didn’t answer, and that made her mad. Leaning over him, she put her hand back on his chest and waited until she felt each of his muscles tense in reaction at her touch. “You of all people should know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Summer.”

Summer.
“Well, isn’t that fine and dandy, because I’m not in the mood to watch you go through all this pain, through being laid flat and helpless when I know damn well how much you love that.”

A long moment passed. Joe was still in his own zone.

“Stop staring at me,” he finally said. “Your thoughts are so loud they’re penetrating the pleasant buzz of the drugs.”

“You haven’t taken any drugs.”

“Then you’re penetrating the pain, an admirable feat. Why don’t you go for a run?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Odd, since before I was shot, you didn’t want to stay.”

“Maybe watching you be so stupid changed things.”

“Changed what?”

It’d made her realize how fragile a balance life could be. That maybe living for the moment wasn’t quite enough. That maybe there needed to be sustenance too. Up until now, the men in her life had all been like junk food. Fun, but not necessarily good for her. Joe was sustenance. Very good for her. She ran a finger down the center of his chest to low on his belly, then swirled it around his belly button.

“Red.”

The word, uttered with soft warning, gave her a shiver. “You should let me get you something to eat.”

“Stop changing the subject.
What changed?
”

“Shh.” Her gaze held his as she ran her finger down a little further, to the edge of his sweats.

His eyes went opaque. It might have been pain but she was willing to bet not. She began to slowly pull the tie on his sweats. “You’re grumpy,” she murmured. “I know you have good reason but I feel obligated to cheer you up.”

“Nothing could do that.”

Kenny had told Summer that Joe thought getting shot had been all his own fault, that if he’d only been quicker, faster, it wouldn’t have happened. No one believed it but Joe himself, and in fact, the doctor had said that his regretful, self-pitying thoughts might even slow down the healing process.

That wasn’t going to happen on her watch.

The bow gave way. Her eyes locked with his as she slowly slid her fingers just beneath the waistband of his sweats. “Commando?” she whispered when she didn’t come across anything but smooth, hot, hard flesh.

His eyes were closed again. Sweat had broken out on his skin. “This is not going to work.”

“Really?” She wrapped her fingers around more hot, hard flesh. “Because everything appears to be in perfectly fine working order.”

“I can’t—I won’t be able to return the favor—”

“But that’s the beauty of this.” She tugged his sweats down his hips, springing him free, smiling at the evidence that no matter what he said, he was in need. “I owe you one.”

“Red—”

She fanned her breath over him.

He moaned, his fingers sliding into her hair as his hips arched helplessly.

“See?” She licked him like a lollipop. “It’s kinda nice to lean on someone once in a while, isn’t it?”

His answer was unintelligible.

“I’m going to go make you soup and tea,” Summer said much later, when Joe was sprawled out flat on his back like a boneless fish. “Wait here.”

“As opposed to leaping up and helping you?” he asked deprecatingly.

“Hey, I worked hard to make you not grumpy. Don’t ruin it.”

There was nothing but a thoughtful silence from him as she moved into the galley. Then, “maybe I need more work,” he called out.

Her mouth twitched into a smile as she took out a can of soup and a pot. She hoped the fact that he had any humor left at all meant he wasn’t in too much pain. For days he’d been in agony, and so stubborn about the painkillers. Seeing him suffer had nearly killed her. She eyed the pill container on the small counter. She could lace his soup. It would get him through the night.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said. He stood in the doorway, gripping it with one hand, a crutch shoved under the armpit of his other arm. He was pale. No, make that green.

She rushed over to him, backed him up to the bed. “Lie down.”

“I’m tired of lying down.”

“Don’t make me get rough.” She helped him stretch out, but when she would have left him alone, he reached for her hand.

“Stay.”

“All right, I’ll just clean up—”

“Stay,” he murmured stubbornly with a grip of steel on her wrist, tugging her down until she was sprawled out besides him. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me a bedtime story. You were going to tell me what things have changed between us. It sounds fascinating.”

“Joe…” She danced her fingers over his chest, and he let out a shuddery sigh.

“Feels good.” He hadn’t let go of her other hand, but his fingers relaxed in hers. “Really good. What changed?”

Jesus, he had a one-track mind. “Okay, maybe I like you more than I thought I did.”

Eyes closed, he smiled.

“Don’t smile. I don’t
like
liking you more than I thought.”

“It’s not your fault, I’m irresistible.” He seemed to be drifting off in spite of himself. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she promised as he let out another exhausted sigh and went still. “I won’t.”