Page 10 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

Chapter Five

Gideon

A wareness was slow in coming. As it always was. The cold pack was warm, so I eased it away from my brow.

Silence.

Had the construction ended for the day, or was this merely a reprieve? Lunch time?

My stomach roiled. Empty, but still uncertain. This migraine had been a doozie. Between my heightened anger because of the cash and Archer’s highhandedness, as well as the chainsaw, the headache had been an inevitability.

“How are you feeling?”

I dropped the ice pack and shot up.

Not a good idea.

My vision swam for a moment before I focused on the man in the recliner. The interloper.

Not fair. You invited him.

True. A decision I now regretted. I hated people seeing me in such a weakened state.

Leo’s disdain had been thinly masked. Not cruel, per se, just questioning.

The injuries were soft tissue. The brain bleed had healed, and the CT scan was normal.

If everything read clear, why was I still in pain? I must be malingering.

This accusation—rarely spoken, but always present—hurt more than anything. Was it any wonder I turned to pills for relief?

“What…?” My voice failed me. Ugh, dry mouth.

I eyed the glass of water. I had vague recollections of being forced to drink, and receiving another cold pack.

It’d helped. Reaching out for the glass took effort, but I managed.

The water was lukewarm but refreshing. I tried again.

“What time is it?” The windows faced north, so the room was never bathed in light.

With the drapes pulled, I couldn’t tell if night had fallen.

“Three-thirty.”

“When’s dinner?”

Archer’s surprise made me smile.

“You promised me food.” And a night of companionship. I wasn’t willing to give up either.

“Riley is expecting us shortly. You have time for a shower, if you wish.”

Probably a good idea. I hadn’t had one this morning, and I needed to wash away the gross feeling of the sickness. Brushing my teeth would help as well. With great care, I sat up fully, pushing off the blankets.

Lucky, awakened by the motion, leapt up and padded over, placing his chin on my knee.

“You need to go out?” Soft, gentle eyes met mine. Empathy? The dog was often attuned to my distress .

“Why don’t I run him out? We can go for a short walk while you do your ablutions.”

Ablutions?

Oh yeah. Shower, shave, and dressing. Would I need something fancy?

“Where are we going for dinner?”

“I’m open to suggestions. We can go as fancy as you like, or fast food. Whatever tickles your fancy.”

You do.

Uh…what? This pompous jackass was nothing like the men I was normally attracted to.

Well, in fairness, there’d only been Leo.

I’d never looked. My gaze had never strayed.

And I’d sworn it never would. Now, though, in this moment, something shifted within me.

Yeah, the guy was a divorce lawyer. Yeah, he earned more in a day than I earned in a month—or more. Yeah, he was full of himself.

And yet, there was more. A vulnerability.

The man last night had been desperate. Needing assistance.

Today the veneer of perfection was back.

Except the man had cared for me while I was ill.

No one had cared for me in a very long time.

“Well, there’s Stavros’s if you want fancier.

A&W if you want fast food. Fifties if you want something in between. ”

“Fifties?”

“It’s a diner on the highway. The food is amazing, but the vibe is casual. No one cares what you’re wearing.”

“You like the place.” A statement, not a question.

And on the nose.

“I do. I used to go there with my grandparents. They have the most amazing milkshakes.”

What are you, twelve?

Shut it .

I could enjoy a milkshake. They settled my stomach.

Archer sat up, clicking the recliner back into place. “That sounds perfect.” He eyed the dog. “I presume he requires a leash. Do I, uh, need to scoop?”

I chuckled. “No, he’ll go into the bushes. He likes his privacy.” Unsteadily, I rose. My back ached and I should’ve gone to bed earlier, but the trek upstairs had been too much to contemplate. I’d regret that decision later. “The extended leash is by the back door.”

“Yes, I used it earlier.” He looked at the dog. “Walk?”

Lucky gazed at me.

“It’s fine. You go ahead.”

The dog huffed, glanced at Archer, and headed to the door.

Just before he moved away, my guest hesitated. “Will you be all right?”

Emotion, strong and sure, pricked me. Again, no one had asked me that in a very long time. “I will, thank you. Quick shower and I’ll be down in no time.”

After a moment, he nodded and headed for the door. He put on his shoes, grabbed the extended leash, and hooked it to Lucky’s collar. Both he and the dog gave me one final look before heading out.

Calculating I had about twenty minutes, I returned the ice pack to the freezer and headed upstairs.

I stripped in my bedroom and grabbed my robe from the hook behind my door.

I set the temperature of the shower to lukewarm until my body adjusted.

Slowly I increased the heat. Eventually I turned my back to the spray and allowed the water to pound my tense neck and back muscles.

I lathered up my plain soap and scrubbed my body as best I could.

I used to love strong-scented products, but these days those were likely to trigger a headache.

Sticking to plain worked. Sticking to uncomplicated worked. Sticking to simple worked .

Going out to dinner was so not simple.

If I kept reminding myself it wasn’t a date, I’d be fine.

After doing a few gentle stretches, I exited the shower. I was, in truth, a simple man. A guy who showered after my workday. A man who put in an honest day’s labor in exchange for a decent paycheck. I’d been the provider in our family for years, and I’d been happy to do it.

Snap out of it.

Going down that path right now was dangerous.

As I selected a clean shirt and jeans, I eyed the photo frame I’d lowered face down.

I was due to call the kids tomorrow. I loved and hated those calls.

Hearing my children, usually happy, tore away at my soul.

Knowing I’d let them down broke my spirit.

Believing they were better off without me left devastation in its wake.

I dried my hair and brushed it into submission. Another visit to the barber was in order. Shaving it all off was always under serious consideration. No visits into town. No money wasted. I supposed I could grow it long, but I’d been raised to believe that made me look like a girl.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Archer’s blond hair was longer, and he looked roguish. Distinguished. Handsome. I’d be a fool not to notice the man’s appearance. And although the guy likely played on it when around women, he didn’t with me. He just was who he was. High class, expensive, and out of a simple man’s league.

I brushed my teeth and did one final check in the mirror. Acceptable. Not great, but respectable. Certainly no one at Fifties was going to care. So I shouldn’t either.

Except I did. I wanted to make a good impression.

My overreaction this morning still galled me.

Just because the man was a divorce lawyer—and rich to boot—didn’t mean he was a bad guy.

Didn’t mean he didn’t have good qualities.

He might volunteer at a homeless shelter.

He might foster kittens. He might tutor failing law students.

Hell, he probably donated money to charities.

Attended those highfalutin functions where everyone dressed up. Put on their Sunday best.

Somewhere a longshoreman would never be seen.

Leo was destined for places like that. As a successful surgeon, he’d be in high demand.

His appearance would bring respectability.

Someone who had come from poverty, raised himself up by the bootstraps, and become a cardiothoracic surgeon.

Big fancy title. Hearts. The man worked on hearts.

Too bad he didn’t have one for his ex-husband.

The kids. Tomorrow would be about the kids.

The front door opening pulled me back into the present.

I tossed my dirty clothes into the hamper in the closet, then noticed my guest had stripped the bed.

Huh. I’d have to put the sheets in the dryer before we left.

Remaking the bed would be hell on my back, but the act of making the bed was, in itself, an act of defiance.

I refused to be defined by what I couldn’t do.

As I hit the top of the stairs, Lucky woofed and spun in excitement. “Had a good walk, did you?”

He headed over to his water bowl and slurped half of it up.

Where is Archer?

The sound of the dryer door slamming shut answered that question. The man was considerate. I could give him that.

And maybe the benefit of the doubt?

Maybe.

He appeared from the laundry room looking just as heart-stoppingly handsome as he had earlier. He’d flipped on the overhead light, and I was grateful it didn’t bother me. Part of Fifties was well lit, and some areas were darker. I was counting on getting a booth in the darker area.

“Riley is waiting for us. Is there anything you need?”

I’d pocketed my wallet upstairs, so I just snagged my keys from the kitchen counter and shook my head.

“Well, aside from a coat.”

Right. Coat.

I needed to get a grip. I yanked a ski jacket from the closet and pulled it on, wincing inwardly at the twinge in my back. I double-checked that I had my wallet, then pivoted to Lucky. I pointed to the dog bed.

The dog didn’t look impressed. He hated being left alone. He was spoiled that way, what with me being home most of the time.

“You’ll survive. I’m only going to be a few hours.”

As if somehow the dog could understand.

Lucky might not comprehend words, but he was getting good at tone of voice. His ears tucked as he lowered himself to the bed. He huffed as he laid his head against his crossed front paws.

“Obedient dog.”