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“It does, Kat. Trust me.”
She let out a low laugh. “You might want to hear the details first. We made caramel sauce today.”
He listened, her words turning him on as she described all the ways she planned to cover her body with caramel. Hell, every time she rocked her hips against his, she could feel the hard proof that he liked the idea of licking her clean. But it wasn’t the just caramel sauce that left him aching to strip off her clothes and take her on the bed.
It was Kat.
He was falling for the woman behind the fantasy.
Chapter 14
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING Kat watched Josh move around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for a chili. She’d spent three nights in dessert heaven. Now it was time to leave the sugar haze behind and face reality. Her time in Independence Falls was limited—­and so were her nights in Brody’s bed.
“After yesterday’s brownie disaster, I’m ready for some real food. What about you, Doc?”
And there it was, another clue she couldn’t ignore.
“I love a good chili.” Though she couldn’t envision eating it off Brody’s body.
But then yesterday’s brownies hadn’t worked either. Plus they’d come out of the oven hard as rocks, stumping both her and Josh. She’d never claimed she could bake, but she had a growing faith in Josh’s ability to follow a recipe. Of course, the chocolate syrup she’d picked up to go with the brownie disaster had added a fun twist to her night—­especially when Brody offered his well-­defined abs as her plate.
Josh stirred the pot once, set the wooden spoon beside the stove. “It just needs to simmer for a while.”
“Why don’t you have a seat,” Kat suggested. “While it cooks.”
“Don’t tell me you want to play another one of those card games.” Josh slid into the chair beside her at the handmade kitchen table. His red curls fell across his forehead. “I feel like a freaking kindergartener matching shapes,” he added.
“No more games.” She set her pen down and interlaced her hands. “You don’t need them, do you?”
“What?” His eyes widened.
“You remembered the brownies we made yesterday. And you knew who I was when I walked into the kitchen.”
“How do you know I didn’t look at my notes? You’ve been spending every night here. Do you even still have a room at the hotel?”
“I do.” She didn’t point out the fact that he’d recalled a detail about her living arrangements or that she’d kept it for her own sanity. Even though she’d spent the past few nights with Brody, she needed to know she had a place to go that was hers, even if it was only a temporary room.
“How do you know I didn’t check my notebook before you came down? After I heard you screaming my brother’s name and calling him a god in the shower this morning.”
“That was yesterday morning,” she pointed out, burying her embarrassment. She thanked the same higher power she’d linked with Brody’s name that Josh’s older brother was out on another rescue, his second this week. “You remember,” she said, focusing on her patient.
“Maybe.” Josh shifted in his seat, staring down at the table. “I guess your cooking therapy is working.”
“It’s possible. Though it hasn’t been long. I would guess you were on the road to recovery when I showed
up. There is a lot we don’t know about the brain. Sometimes ­people who suffered accidents like yours only lose their short-­term memory for a few months. Some a few days. And sometimes it just comes back. Especially in patients who underwent brain surgery.” She reached out and covered his hand. “Your memory has been coming back for a while now, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it is confusing. I’m not always sure I can trust it.”
She squeezed his hand. “That’s normal. It may take a while. And it might not come back completely.”
He glanced up at her, his eyes bright with panic. “Does this mean I’m done? With the trial?”
“I’ll need to confer with Dr. Westbury. This hasn’t happened with any of the other patients. We’ve seen progress, but after months of following an established therapy plan.”
She left out the part that he’d barely qualified. Hearing that others were so much worse off than him wouldn’t help. And it might make him feel guilty about his recovery. But she couldn’t risk skewing the outcome of the trial. For reliable results, they needed some semblance of uniformity.
“I can help you establish a long-­term plan,” she continued. “The confusion and the fear might linger for a while. The medication will continue to help with the depression, but the rest is about building a life that works for you.”