I wake up to someone persistently ringing my doorbell the next morning. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I read the time, 9:15 am. It's been four weeks since I've gotten to sleep past 6 o'clock because no one came in flipping on lights, bothering me to take medication and so on, and now some asshole is ringing my doorbell. I pull up the app on my phone I have synced to the camera located at the entrance of the building only to see Bella's friend Mila standing there.

What the hell is she doing here?

I take a few seconds to look at her. Mila is five-foot-six with raven black hair that hangs past her shoulders. She is slim with curves in all the right places and a heart-shaped face paired with the most amazing eyes I'd ever seen and I'm obsessed with her mouth and how her bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top.

The first time I met her was at a BBQ out at the clubhouse. Her and her little girl that is. No one has ever stolen my breath or left me at a loss for words like she does. I'll never forget the first time she looked at me with her cat-like eyes. Never had I seen eyes like hers before. She stole my fuckin' breath away. Regardless, there is no reason for her to be at my doorstep and I want her gone. I can't have her staring at me. Judging me. Not her.

She reaches out ringing the doorbell again. I throw the blankets at the foot of the bed, pull myself up and shift my legs over the edge of the bed and slide over into my chair. Dressed in only my sweatpants from the day before, I head out of my room, into the hallway and make my way into the kitchen. In an agitated state, I fling open my door, "What the hell do you want?" I bark at her, my voice gruff from sleepiness.

Her hypnotizing eyes connected with mine and held my stare for a beat before she responds, "You mind letting me in first before I explain why I'm here?" she says sounding pissed.

She's out here ringing my damn doorbell, waking me up and she's pissed off? "What do you want? I'm not in the mood for visitors," I tell her.

"InCare sent me."

What? Hell no. This isn’t going to work. I won't have Mila doing those things for me. "No" I clip.

"No?" she answers a bit taken back by my attitude, but she quickly recovers, "Look, I admit, I had some reservations at first when I was given your file yesterday, but I need this job, Reid." When Mila crosses her arms over her chest, the move pushes her ample chest up further, causing my attention to shift briefly. "I'm also not going to stand here and beg either," She retorts, giving me a little attitude in return.

I bring my eyes back up to her face only to see hers glaring back at me. "I understand the requirements are full-time, for at least four to eight weeks, depending on recovery time. Am I correct?"

"You read the chart, Kitten, so I would assume you already know that," I continue to stare at her and notice her eyes flare in irritation at my calling her Kitten. "I'm not a damn pet. I have a name," she hisses. "So I would appreciate you using it."

"Nah, I think I like Kitten better," I interject with a grin and watch as her face reddens and she balls her fists up at her side. When I open my mouth to retort, I'm effectively cut off by the raise of her hand. Not many people would get away with that shit, but Mila doing it shows me she's got a nice set of lady balls and I can respect that.

"My daughter would have to come too," she grinds out through clenched teeth, ignoring my last statement.

I'm not prepared to deal with the noise and hassle involved with a kid running around my home. Shit. No matter what my mixed-up feelings are about my current situation or the fact that I'm crazy attracted to the woman standing in front of me, I'm not going to be the reason she can't take care of her little girl. Giving in, for now, I make my way to the kitchen table, and she follows. Pulling a chair out, she takes a seat.

"You realize what you're in for? I'm not a small man, Mila," I gesture to myself with my hands, "You may have to help me get in and out of things like this chair, a vehicle-" I pause and try to hide a grin, "the shower. And sometimes I need help getting my clothes on. It's not something I want done for me, but with one good arm…" I shrug my shoulders keeping eye contact with her.

She scans my body. And it doesn't go unnoticed she didn't linger on my leg. Most women do. They keep staring as if it's an alien life form or something, but she didn't.

Clearing her throat, she sits up straighter, "I'm more than capable of doing all those things, Mr. Carter. It's my job, and I'm pretty good at it."

Oh. It's Mr. Carter now. "I thought you were an OB nurse?" I question her.

"I'm certified in In-home care as well. I wouldn't have been sent here if I wasn't qualified,"

"Alright, then I'll give it one week for you to show me you can handle it," I respond.

Relaxing, Mila leans back in her chair, "I apologize for waking you this morning. I can make some coffee if you like?" she scans the room then stands, making her way to the counter where the coffee pot sits.

I watch the way she moves as she makes her way to the counter "Sounds like a good start."

What have I got myself into?

"I can find my way around the kitchen. You can get dressed if you want. Put on a shirt," she says opening and closing cabinets until she finds what she needs.

Maybe I make her just as uncomfortable as she makes me.

"That’s okay, Kitten. I'm good."

Her back stiffens when the word Kitten leaves my mouth once again, but chooses to ignore it this time. She shrugs her shoulders, "Suit yourself. You hungry? I could cook you something. It's all part of my job description." Walking over to the fridge, she opens it, only to find some expired coffee creamer and a jar a mayonnaise. "Or maybe not," she mumbles closing the door.

"I need to get some groceries. Quinn was here and found what food I did have was all spoiled before leaving yesterday." I say, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand and recall his face when he took a bite of the bad lunch meat he had slapped on to some bread while making a sandwich yesterday. Mila lets out a soft laugh that surprisingly relaxes me enough to smile as well.

"Yeah, I've noticed the few times I've been around Quinn he's always eating."

"Come on. I'll show you around while we wait for the coffee," I offer. "As you can see this is the kitchen and living room area."

We make our way towards the hallway. I stop at the spare room and open the door, moving my chair enough for her to squeeze by and look inside. The room is empty. I've had no reason to have furniture put in there. Until now. As she brushes by me, I inhale, breathing in her scent.

"Did you just sniff me?" Mila turns to face me.

"It's called breathing. You're a nurse. You should know the basic functions of the human body," I smart off, and move further down the hall, showing her the bathroom, "It's all yours. I have my own in my bedroom." Continuing the tour, I give her short-clipped conversation. Stopping, I show her the master bedroom. She walks around and takes in the equipment I had installed yesterday before stepping into the bathroom.

"I'm happy to see you are trying to do some things on your own, but that shower is an accident waiting to happen," she says walking back out from looking at the shower stall, "You really should get a non-slip shower stool to sit on and not that tiled bench seat. Oh, and one of those non-slip tub mats too," she states.

"It has those rails to hold on to and I've always used the built-in bench," I tell her.

"If I'm going to be helping lift your wet body in and out of the shower, it needs to be safer for not only you, Reid, but me as well," she says with a slight blush on her face.

"I should show you downstairs too. That is where my office is and where I spend most my time. Follow me." I take her to the elevator and motion for her to get in.

"That thing doesn't look safe. I'll take the stairs." She looks on as I position my chair.

"It's safe, get on." Slowly she steps beside me, and I pull the rod iron gate closed, push the button, and the elevator makes a slow, short descent to the bottom. "My office is just over there," I point.

Without going across the room, I inform her, "It's the only place off limits around here. If I'm down here, don't bother me."

Mila looks around then turns and studies me for a moment. I fully expect her to pry, but she doesn't, which surprises me.

"Let's go have some coffee," She says and turns, taking the stairs up instead, leaving me alone to think for a few moments. I've got no reasons not to trust her… yet. If anything, I'm not sure I can trust myself with her.

When I get back to the kitchen, Quinn shows up, "Let me in, asshole," he says through the intercom.

Opening the door, I let him in, and he is holding a couple of boxes of doughnuts and standing behind him is Charley, "Grabbed some breakfast on my way here, and this old man followed me trying to steal my food," he jokes.

"Hey, son. Good to see they let your ass out of the hospital. You look like shit though. You need to roll your ass into the shower and trim up that shit on your face," Charley pokes fun as he leans down for a hug.

"Whose piece of shit car is parked in the driveway out there?" Quinn asks gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder.

"That would be mine," Mila chimes in walking out of the hallway.

Great, now Quinn has a shit eating grin on his face. I give him a look telling him to shut the fuck up before he tries to open his mouth, and I pray he listens for once.

Charley looks confused because he has no idea who Mila is and why I would have a woman in my home.

"Mila is going to be my in-home nurse," I reluctantly inform him.

"No shit? You’re a lucky son of a bitch." Quinn grins at me.

"Quinn," I warn him. He's good at keeping his trap shut when it counts, but something like this is pure gold for his gossip hole. Now that he knows, so will everyone else. I don't know which is worse right now. The woman I've been crazy attracted to ever since the first day I saw her is moving in as my nurse, or dipshit here running his mouth and knowing I'm going to catch all kinds of hell from the rest of my brothers before the day is through.

"Where're your manners, Reid. You gonna introduce me or what?" Charley chastises.

"Charley, this Mila. Mila, this is Charley," I quickly introduce them. Charley is like my second dad. He was my old man's best friend. I'm talking since birth they were the best of friends, that's how long they knew each other. Wiping her hands on a napkin, Mila throws a partially eaten cinnamon twist into the garbage can and extends her hand to greet him, "Nice to meet you, Charley."

"You too," he returns

Turning to look at me Mila says, "How about I go do some grocery shopping and let you fellas do your thing," She offers.

"Get my bank card, it's in my wallet on my dresser in the bedroom," I tell her.

She disappears down the hall then reappears holding my wallet, "Here, I'm not going into your wallet," she says handing it to me. I open it and pull out my card handing it to her, "Anything specific I should pick up? Likes or dislikes," she inquires.

Right now, with Quinn and Charley looking on I just want her gone. "No, and bring the receipt back," I grump, feeling uncomfortable.

Seeming unfazed she walks to the table, grabs her purse, and walks out the door. Both Quinn and Charley stare at me. I roll to the counter and start fixing a cup of coffee with the mug Mila had taken down from the cabinet.

"What’s wrong with you this morning?" Charley gruffs.

"What?" I clip.

"The fuckin' attitude you're sporting? Have you been treating that girl like that all morning?" he asks.

"Damn it, Charley. I don't need any of this shit right now."

Quinn picks up one of the doughnut boxes and tucks it under his arm, "I'm gonna get. Go easy on her, Reid. She's only here to do her job," he says, "See ya later, brother."

"See there, your cranky ass is running everyone off," Charley points out.

I take my coffee back to the table, set it down and run my hand down my face. He's right. My moods are all over the place.

"You need to get your head out of your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself. That's where all this shit is coming from… self-pity. Your dad didn't raise you to treat a woman with such little respect. Even though it's her job to care for you, she doesn't deserve that kind of behavior. I came here thinking I could have a nice visit with my godson, but now I have a bad taste in my mouth and that's because of you." He snatches the other box of doughnuts off the table, "and I'm taking these with me." he walks towards the door, "I'm always here for you, son, so when you decide to pull that stick out of your ass, you give me a call."

Left sitting alone in my kitchen, I think over the word beating I just received. He's right; Dad would be mad as hell right now. Taking myself to my bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I do look like shit. I haven't shaved since being in the hospital, and I usually keep all my facial hair trimmed short. I grab my beard trimmer and get to work. Once I'm done I forgo a shower because the more I look at the tiled bench, the more I think about Mila being right about not trusting that slick tile. Some deodorant and cologne will have to do for now. I wheel myself to my dresser and pull a shirt from the drawer and slip it over my cast and my head.

Knowing I need to show my gratitude and apologize, I decide to furnish the spare room for Mila and her daughter. Grabbing my laptop, I go into the living room. Sitting the computer on the coffee table, I position my chair as close as I can get it to the couch and slide myself over onto it. Opening my laptop, I get to work. I'm not entirely sure what her or her daughter will like, so I pick things out and hope for the best. Once through with my purchase, the furniture store emails a confirmation that they should have everything delivered late this evening.

Realizing I forgot to give it to her before she left, I grab my phone from the coffee table and text Mila the security code, so she can come and go as she pleases, then realize I don’t have her number. No problem. I open a new window on my computer screen, go into a few systems and snag her cell number.

Me: This is Reid. Security Code to get back in 52469. Remember it then delete the text. I'll be downstairs the rest of the day.

I wait for her response, which I receive about three minutes later.

Mila: I'm not going to ask how you got my number. I'm done at the store. I'll cook you something to eat when I get back.

Unsure what to say I don’t reply. I take myself and my coffee downstairs to my office, hoping I can get my mind off Mila for a while.

Engrossed in my work the time seems to pass quickly, and before I know it I'm smelling something delicious and my stomach rumbles. Closing everything down, I load up on the elevator and head back upstairs. I find Mila ladling what smells like chili into a couple of containers by the stove. Lifting her head, she watches as I wheel over to the kitchen island.

"I didn't know if you like chili or not, but I made a small batch. I left some for you to eat now if you like, and the rest I'll put in the refrigerator."

Finding my words, I thank her, "I appreciate it."

I watch her place the leftovers in the refrigerator and then load the dishwasher. "You staying? I mean- you want to eat something too?" I fumble over my words. Shit, what am I ten years old?

"No, I need to go pick up Ava and start getting things ready for us to come and stay here. That is if you still want me to. I called my supervisor earlier, she is more than happy to send another nurse for the night who can help you out for awhile. If you need it." She tells me.

I think I want to be alone for the rest of the night. Besides, it gives me time to get her room set up. "You go on. And I'm still willing to give this a try. I'll call InCare and let them know I won't need anyone tonight. I'll give Quinn a call. He'll come sack out on the couch and be here if I need anything." I let her know as she's gathering her purse and keys.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I nod my head.

She gives me a slight smile, "Okay. I'll see you later, Reid."

Again, I'm left alone, which is what I thought I've wanted for weeks.

The truth is… I don't want her to go.