Chapter Five
Trent sat in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed, watching her sleep. He’d been sitting there for two hours before he remembered to move. Which made for more than a little pain, considering he was no spring chicken.
With a groan, he stood slowly, rolled his shoulders, popped his neck first one way then the other and bent over to make sure he could still touch his toes.
“Being forty sucks,” he muttered to himself as he walked around, waiting for his legs to stop tingling while his circulation got back to normal.
On the bed behind him, Melody sucked in a breath. He turned, heart in his throat. Her eyes were open wide, glaring at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if she was fully awake and didn’t want to startle her so he held back. At least that’s what he told himself. He had another reason for it. And it had everything to do with the terrifying, overwhelming urge he had to slide in beside her and hold her tight until she knew she was safe.
He shook his head.
Stop it, Hettinger. Not every woman needs a Big Strong Hero. This woman seems pretty fucking strong.
Some asshole had broken her nose and she still managed to almost blind one of them with her thumb and render another one incapacitated with a hard knee to the balls. By the time he’d figured out what was going on and kicked open the men’s room door, two of her attackers had been yelping and either hopping around or curled up on the dirty floor. Only one of the three jerks still had his hands on her.
But that had been enough for him.
That sorry son-of-a-bitch would be spending a good long time in the hospital.
“Hey,” a voice called from the half-open door. “Can I come in?”
Trent backed away from the bed, his throat closed up. The whole thing had been a buzz—from the second he’d clapped eyes on her, through the awkward beer lesson, to the moment he realized that she was staring at him as much as he had been her. Determined to monitor their booze intake, he’d stretched out his super boring meeting with the town eggheads, so he had an excuse to stick around. Just in case.
Just in case anything went wrong.
Sue me. I’m a hero. I wanted to make sure she got out of there okay and she almost didn’t so shut up.
Evelyn eased into the dim room. “Melody? Honey? You awake?” She was clutching a bouquet of tulips and a couple of milkshakes. “I brought sustenance.”
A sob erupted from the bed, sending a shard of ice through Trent’s heart. But he held back.
Evelyn ran to the bed. “What is it? Do you need some pain medicine? We can get you the good stuff in here.”
Trent backed up more until he felt the wall behind him, studying the blonde woman beside the hospital bed. Evelyn Benedict was drop dead gorgeous. There was no arguing that point. She had a gorgeous, hourglass figure which she always emphasized with great clothes. Her willingness to highlight her height by wearing heels had turned him on no end. Well, okay, that and her tits. She had tits that would make a grown man cry.
What? I said I was a hero, not a saint.
They’d had a couple of vanilla dates which had been nice. She had a sharp, self-deprecating sense of humor and a healthy, realistic appetite. Women who ordered a salad and ate three bites of lettuce before declaring themselves “stuffed” made him nuts.
He’d know. He’d been married to one.
They’d been set up by a mutual friend, a manager at a brewery who knew them both. The dinner party had included six other couples so it hadn’t been totally awkward. He’d liked her from the start and it had been mutual. But he’d been reluctant to draw her into anything more than a third date, which had ended nicely.
He’d avoided her for almost a month after that and to her credit, she had taken the hint. After spending a long weekend at a retreat with fellow business owners that had involved periods of quiet meditation, hours of exercise and intense workshops about all aspects of running their perspective companies, he’d come home refreshed and ready.
She’d agreed to accompany him to one party “just to observe”. That had ended even more nicely but, again, in a fairly vanilla fashion. The next weekend he’d taken a chance and taken her out of town, to one of the Georgia barrier islands and an exclusive club he’d found through a friend back in Ann Arbor. “Full immersion,” she’d claimed to want. “Nothing halfway.”
And it had been all of that, and some more. A shiver shot down his spine at the memory of her, of them, that long, erotic weekend. But the sense that she’d been acting the part, humoring him, had lingered after that and since then, they’d cooled it. And he’d not really missed her. Which was a good sign he’d made the right call.
He watched as she hovered over Melody, long, honey-blonde hair hiding most of her near-perfect profile. Evelyn was probably the closest he’d come to having a girlfriend since his disaster of a marriage. And it hadn’t been right. They’d both known it.
And now…
“Hurts,” Melody whispered from the bed. “I need some water.”
He grabbed a cup and straw that he’d been guarding like a mama lion and handed it to Evelyn. She took it without looking at him and held it to Melody’s dry lips. Trent licked his lips on reflex, believing that he could feel her pain radiating through his own sinuses. He’d had two broken noses in his day. It was a function of playing sports in high school. They hurt like hell but did heal pretty fast.
But now…
Now. He honestly believed he could feel every twinge she felt.
That realization made him stumble back, heart racing. He’d felt this way before—but that had turned out to be a fraud and had landed him with huge alimony payments and misery. He wouldn’t go here again. He didn’t trust himself or his instincts anymore.
He needed to get the hell out of here.
“Trent?” Evelyn stood, set the cup on the rolling table and patted Melody’s arm.
“I’ll…uh…go now. Since you’re here.”
“Wait.”
But he was halfway down the rubbery-smelling hallway, in the elevator, his legs shaking, into his Jeep and racing home before he allowed himself to breathe normally. Which was a relief.
Or was it?
* * * *
“What the fuck, man?”
He winced and held the phone away from his ear as he struggled up from sleep. Glancing around, confused for a hot second, he realized he’d only made it as far as the couch before passing out cold from depleted adrenaline and his own healthy helping of beer the night before. “Good morning to you too, Glory.”
“Fuck you. What the hell do you mean, running out of her room like that?”
“I’m… I…” He set his feet on the floor, trying to get his bearings and defend what was in essence, indefensible. “I’m sorry. Is she all right?”
“She’s all right. Mortified, embarrassed, all the shit that you could have set her straight on, you massive asshat.”
Trent felt his ears get hot, a clear precursor to anger. But he took a breath, got up and headed for the kitchen and a glass of water, allowing himself a few seconds to respond. And for Evelyn to calm down.
“Sorry,” she said. “But Jesus, Trent. You ran out like your nuts were on fire. She was pretty upset.”
He drank two full glasses of water before he felt like he had the wherewithal to answer. This had a tinge of surrealism to it anyway. As recently as the night before, he’d asked Evelyn out again, right in front of Melody. For reasons that had more to do with immaturity, he knew, than anything else. Unfair to both women.
Asshat, indeed.
“Listen, Evelyn, I…”
An uncomfortable beat of silence took on a life of its own.
“What?” She exhaled loudly. “Trent, you and I… We aren’t going to work. You know it as well as I do. I like you. You’re…fun and sexy and…”
He grinned and leaned back against his sink. “Go on.”
“No, jerk. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. You’re not too bad yourself. But I agree. We’re better off as friends.”
“Right. So…about Melody.”
“What about her?”
“Dear Lord, you are seriously saying that to me?”
“I am.” He ran a shaking hand down his face. “I have… It’s weird, Evelyn. I don’t know how to explain it. She sort of…scares me.”
“That’s no excuse.”
Fury flared in his brain. He rolled his neck, wincing at the stiffness from sleeping on the couch. “Tell you what, I’ll—”
“You’ll go pick her up at two today and take her home, that’s what.”
“I’m busy,” he blustered.
“Get un-busy. You can manage it, I’ll bet.”
He heard Taylor wander into the living room. His fury flared hot again.
Women. His life was choked with them and they would, without a doubt, kill him.
“Fine. I’ll take her home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”
But he was talking to a dead phone. Evelyn had already hung up.