Page 18

T he rushing wind tugged at Ginny’s pigtails as she tore down Placard Street on her shiny yellow bike.

A basket of woven white plastic hung from the handlebars, and the Little Mermaid’s bright red hair and wide smile flashed up at her from the top of the silver bicycle bell Santa had left in her stocking.

Suddenly, up ahead, she spotted them—two orange floral wingback chairs.

She couldn’t believe it. They looked perfect!

What were they doing in the middle of the road?

She tried to pump her little legs faster, but the air became like molasses, so thick she could barely push the pedals on their cranks.

Argh! The chairs were somehow further away than when she’d first spotted them.

She had to get to them but…ow! Her foot hurt, and so did her throat…

Ginny’s eyelids eased open by a sliver to reveal a room in soft focus.

Was she lying in a hospital bed? She tilted her head to the left and, sure enough, a doctor in a white coat gazed down at her.

He looked worried. He looked nice. He looked super handsome.

She resettled her head straight against the pillow and closed her eyes again.

She didn’t mind giving up the dream about the bicycle and the chairs if she got to have this one about the handsome doctor treating her for… her for…what was he treating her for?

Her foot gave a throb of pain. She should maybe say something about it to her new doctor crush, but he probably knew about it already.

She didn’t want to sound like an idiot in front of him!

She searched her brain for something intelligent to say about her foot, like the fact that she had two of them and they both had bones in them, but she was pretty sure only a mumbled sort of warble exited her lips.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the doctor said softly. “You ready to wake up?”

Ginny was just conscious enough to realize that “sleepyhead” isn’t the sort of thing doctors usually say to their patients.

Also, the voice was vaguely, even disturbingly, familiar.

She blinked a few times, trying to clear the mist, until, like an artist gradually adding details to an initial rough sketch, the man’s face sharpened into focus.

Ginny slammed her eyelids shut as a wave of panic needled through her. Nico? Nico was her doctor? Was she even in a hospital?

She tried to sit up, but her head went woozy, and she had no choice but to flop back down. At least the room around her was clear now. She was lying on her own bed. This meant she wasn’t dreaming, but it also meant that the actual Nico was in her bedroom.

Her mind swam with questions as she continued to take in her surroundings.

Her head and feet rested on pillows, and her lavender quilt covered her middle.

She had on the navy satin pajamas Monique had given her—actual pajamas rather than the threadbare tank top and grungy short shorts she usually tossed on at bedtime.

Thank heavens for small mercies. Thank heavens for Monique’s hand-me-downs.

She tried to say something along the lines of ‘what the heck are you doing here’ or ‘please leave,’ but her mouth felt and tasted exactly like moldy toast. She ended up smacking her lips and tongue against each other a few times before croaking, “Water.”

Instantly, a glass appeared at her parched lips. Nico reached his hand behind her head and gently lifted her forward just enough for her to sip.

Okay. For a total jerk, he is at least a decent nurse .

“What are you doing here?” she asked when her mouth was lubricated enough to form words again.

He sat back in his chair, which he must have pulled from her second bedroom, with a relieved-sounding sigh. “You tell me. About an hour ago, I found you on the kitchen floor, practically passed out.”

“Practically?”

“Well, you were mumbling things…” His voice trailed off and an odd look crossed his face.

That didn't sound good. “What things?”

He glanced away. “Oh, it was hard to make out. Didn’t really make much sense.”

‘Much sense’ was different than ‘no sense,’ but Ginny decided to discuss that with him in greater detail later. She had more pressing questions. “How did I get in here then?”

“I carried you.”

She tried to wiggle her feet and was rewarded with a lance of pain. “Oof. My right ankle.”

“By the look of it, it must hurt. Can you remember why?”

The previous evening’s antics flooded back to her. “One of the dogs. I don’t know which one. I was heading to bed, and I tripped over it in the dark.”

His brown eyes widened in alarm. “You were on the kitchen floor all night?”

She shook her head as she wriggled herself a little more upright on the pillow.

“No. I fell in here. I think I managed to get into bed. But in the morning, the dogs were demanding to go out.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I kind of remember crawling. I had taken a lot of cold medicine and a strong antihistamine, and that combination can make me woozy for hours. I don’t think I fell again, but I must have sat down on the kitchen floor and fallen asleep. ”

“You were woozy alright.” He pointed to her foot, his tone earnest. “Your ankle looks bruised and a little swollen, but not too bad. Probably just a sprain, but I didn’t want to test it until you woke up.”

“Test it?”

“In college I did EMT training. Did some volunteering with the hospital ambulance crew. I can check it now if you like, give you my quasi-professional opinion?”

She winced in anticipatory pain. “Will it hurt?”

“I’ll be gentle.” He moved toward the foot of the bed and crouched down, then folded the quilt back, exposing her legs from below the knees.

Ginny got her elbows under her and raised her head for a better view of what he was up to down there, but she soon regretted it.

He was staring so intensely at her ankle it reminded her of the way an eagle stares at the fish it’s about to dismember.

The pain she’d felt a minute earlier when she’d tried to move her foot was still farm-fresh in her mind.

Did he really know what he was doing? She extended a flat palm toward him in a “stop” gesture.

“Hold on, Hippocrates. Shouldn’t I see your EMT qualifications or something? ”

He looked up at her, brows knitted in confusion. “Like a card? I have my CPR card. Do you want to see that? I’m not planning to do mouth-to-ankle resuscitation.”

She felt silly. He was just going to check her ankle. “Uh…no. That’s okay.”

He hovered his hands over her lower leg. “So, I have your permission?”

She thought fast. “Sure, but maybe the dogs need to go out first?”

“I put them out right after I got you settled in here. They’re in the side yard.” He rubbed his hands together as if trying to warm them, then reached toward her leg a second time.

“But they need to be fed, too,” she blurted, “and you probably don’t know where their food is.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Cupboard to the left of the fridge.”

She nodded. He reached a third time toward her leg.

She sucked in a loud breath. “Um…how about some tea? Some soothing tea is always nice before medical procedures.”

His shoulders slumped and his hands dropped to the mattress on either side of her feet.

“What happened to Ms. I-don’t-have-any-weak-spots?

I watched you heft a forty-pound movie projector over your head like it was an armful of cotton candy, and now you’re scared to let someone touch your leg that probably isn’t even broken? ”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I…have a phobia of physical pain. Like, pain doesn’t really bother me when I experience it—just the fear of it does.”

He rubbed his chin and nodded, thinking. “Okay. Well, what might make it easier?”

Ginny appreciated this reaction. He hadn’t belittled her fear the way Monique would have, and he also hadn’t minimized it with ‘happy talk’ the way Sadie tended to do.

He simply wanted to know how he could help.

“Just…talk to me while you’re doing whatever it is you’re about to do. It’s the not knowing that gets me.”

“That’s easy enough,’ he said, nodding several times in a rhythmic way, “but I don’t want to burden you with too much medicalese, so let me know if you want more talk or less talk.

” She nodded too, and he continued. “I’m going to do what’s called a palpation test. It sounds fancy, but it just means I’m going to feel the two main bones in your leg for any unusual tenderness that might indicate a break or fracture. Does that make sense?”

Ginny smiled, feeling more at ease. “That’s helpful. Okay. Go ahead.”

“I’m going to start with the top of the tibia and work my way down.

” He gently wrapped both hands around her lower right leg, just below the knee, and started using his fingers and thumbs to press lightly into the flesh over the bone, moving slowly toward her ankle.

“You just let me know if anything hurts.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, but she was suddenly much more interested in the feel of his hands on her body than she was about whether her leg was in one piece or one hundred.

His hands were so soft and warm. His fingers so sure, yet gentle.

Good thing her injury was to her leg and not to her chest, because she wouldn’t have passed a palpation test there—her heart was palpitating rather erratically.

With his gaze lowered to her leg, his gorgeous brown curls partially covered his face, and his deep-set eyes were lidded.

She visually traced the curve where the outer corner of his eye met the top of his cheekbone, then followed that line along until it reached the upper arc of his ear.

He really was Michelangelo’s David come to life, its cold, shiny stone transformed into warm, living man.

What woman viewing the David hadn’t longed to run her fingers along his jaw, through his hair, down his muscled arm?

He blinked up at her, almost making her jump. “Feel anything?”

Her heart did a somersault. She prayed it hadn’t shown through the thin satin of her jammies. Note to self: wear quilted pajamas from here on out. She shook her head and swallowed. “Me? Uh, nothing. Nope.”

“That’s good. I’ll do the fibula next.”

And he did. Oh, how he did. Ginny forced herself to look anywhere but at Nico as he continued to press, press, press slowly but methodically down her leg.

There was a small crack in the wall near the ceiling she really should patch.

Also, the windowsills were looking embarrassingly dusty.

Was that a dent in the wall she’d never noticed before?

Why did it feel as if each touch of his fingertips left a glowing spot behind on her skin, like a little Hansel and Gretel trail of warm stones?

Gah! This man’s hands should have warning labels tattooed onto them!

Finally, the pressing stopped. “None of that hurt?” he asked. Again, she shook her head. “There don’t seem to be any breaks then, so that’s good. Now, for the ankle. For this one, I’m going to put your foot in a couple different positions. Just like before, let me know if anything hurts.”

Grasping her foot with one hand, he ever so gently pressed it outward, toward the wall. She waited for the agony, but it didn’t come. “It’s a little tender, but really not much,” she said.

“That’s great.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him hopefully. “Hey, maybe you cured me through the laying on of hands.”

He chuckled. “If I did, I’ll start my own healing cult. I hear it’s very profitable. But don’t get too excited. I saved what I think will be the worst for last. I’m going to bend your ankle the other way now, just the smallest bit…like…this?—”

“Stop!” Ginny said, as a lightning strike of pain slammed into her. She sucked air in through clenched teeth. “No guru status for you.”

Nico patted her leg lightly as he gave her a quick wink.

“Guess I’ll have to stick to evil real estate baron.

” He stood up and moved back to the chair by the bed.

“So, the good news is, it’s only a bad sprain.

The bad news is, it’s a bad sprain. You’re going to have to stay off it.

If you don’t have crutches, I’ll run and get you some at the pharmacy. ”

Ginny let out a long breath of frustration. “Ugh. I can’t believe this. This was my time to finish off my to-do list. Darn whichever dog it was.”

“Sorry, friend. No more ladder climbing or limb lopping till the pain is gone.”

“Got it, Doc,” she said resignedly, but her heart gave a tiny flutter.

Assuming her ears weren’t sprained too, he’d just called her friend .

Were they friends now? Was that even possible?

Was that even advisable? Probably not. And anyway, he must have better things to do than sit around massaging her shins and giving her tender sips of water.

“And thank you, but I’ll call my sisters.

There’s nothing Monique enjoys more than making me feel useless—you know, in a loving way. ”

He leaned forward in the chair, his forearms resting on his knees.

The sleeves of his white button-down were rolled up to the elbows, displaying the nicely muscled arms she’d suspected him of having.

“You sure? I don’t have anything else planned for today, and I don’t mind helping.

At a minimum, you’re going to need help taking care of the mutts. ”

She knew she should say, ‘thanks but no thanks,’ and send him off to pillage more poor people, but the words wouldn’t come.

She really didn’t want Monique fussing over her.

She was a terrible nurse. Sadie had the same cold she had, and Grant was busy taking care of her.

Ginny had friends, but they all worked full time and none lived close.

But only yesterday she’d assured this man that if he ever came near her again, she’d call the police.

As far as she knew, he still wanted to yank her house right out from under her.

“Will letting you hang around void my squatter status?”

He chuckled. “I don’t see why it would. Call your sister though if you want to double check.”

Ginny grimaced. If she even attempted to explain the situation to Monique, she would immediately jump to the conclusion that Ginny was falling in love with Nico, which was ridiculous.

Ginny only preferred Nico over Monique while she recuperated because he was helpful, knowledgeable, easy to talk to, and even easier to look at.

That was hardly love material. Still, she couldn’t let Nico know that.

“Well,” she said at last, “the dogs do like you.”

“Then I’ll stay for the dogs,” he said, looking genuinely pleased. But in the next moment, a shadow of worry crossed his face. His hands rubbed down his thighs in an anxious motion.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

His broad shoulders rose and fell as he took a quick breath and let it out. “I’ve got a confession to make.”