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The next morning, he woke up and stared at the wall. All night he had been listening in for the slightest notion that Emilie needed help. The house was old and the floors were creaky. He could hear her slowly moving around. But at no point did she yell out for him. Carter knew the kind of pain she must be in. He had been shot a few years ago with buckshot. It was a bitch to get cleaned up but Lee and the pack Alpha, Owen, did their best. His ass had been sore for weeks afterward. Even as a dominant, independent male wolf, he had been thankful for the help his packmates gave him.

But Emilie wasn't pack. She was a bear and by nature, they were more self-reliant.

Carter hefted himself up and into the shower. He worked again at ten. There was paperwork from a domestic he was called on yesterday to write up. Then he had two new patrol officers to get settled in with their Field Training Officer. His department was small so everyone at some point had to be a FTO. Even Carter would take a few shifts.

He was drying off when he heard the shower turn on next door. It was quickly followed by something falling into the tub and a curse. He pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt while he listened for more.

"Come on!" she yelled and slammed something against the tub. "I just want a damn shower."

Carter's lips twitched into a smile. Doctor's orders would be to not get the bandage wet. Little Miss Independent was probably having a hell of a time.

He was going to let her suffer in silence, since she couldn't follow instructions and yell out for help, but after a few more bangs on the tub from what he imagined were her fists, he heard a soft sob. It tore at every heart string he had. Carter didn't think twice, he jogged down his steps, grabbed the spare set of keys for next door and let himself in.

She hadn't heard him come up the stairs. Emilie sat on the edge of the tub in a fuzzy robe, her head rested against the wall and she had tear tracks lining her cheeks.

He knocked on the door frame to get her attention. "You didn't ask for it, but it sounded like you could use some help."

Horror flashed in her wide eyes as she looked up. Emilie began to wipe under her eyes and ducked her head to hide her face. "I'm fine. You didn't," she huffed out an exasperated breath. "You didn't need to come over here."

Carter walked into the room and crouched in front of her. He brushed some of the strands that had stuck to her cheeks off her face. "But I'm here now. So why don't you let me help you."

Her eyes were so tortured, like asking for help was the most painful thing she could be doing. Carter smiled in sympathy and stood. He removed the shower head from the wall and turned on the faucet. When it was warm he motioned her over with his finger.

"Lean back, I'll wash your hair."

Emilie scooted over but she did not lean back. In fact, her back got even more straight and stiff, if that were even possible.

"Would it really be so bad for me to help you?"

She looked like it might be. "I don't know you," Emilie said quietly. He felt like those four words had been hard for her to get out.

"Maybe not as well as your brother, but you do know me. I'm a cop, your neighbor and I've seen you naked. I'd say that makes us friends."

Her lips fought a smile.

"Come on," he pressured with a grin. "It won't hurt and I bet you will feel a thousand times better afterward. You can always think of it as doing me a favor. It pains me to see someone hurting and not be able to help them."

Emilie watched him for a moment, her face unreadable. Carter thought he'd have to turn to more primitive methods of persuasion like begging on his knees when she tilted her head back for him. He was the first to admit that he was not skilled in this form of washing and ended up getting water all over her robe. But she trusted him enough to wash and rinse her hair and by the end of it, there was even a little smile on her face.

"Better?" he asked after turning off the water and handing her a towel.

She nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll let you finish up here. When you are done come on down and we'll go for some breakfast." She opened her mouth to object but he stopped her with a hand over her mouth. "Ah ah ah, my treat and since you have no food in your house we will stop by the market on our way home."

She saw the logic in what he was saying and didn't argue with him when he pulled his hand away. He was beginning to see the way she worked. Logic seemed to persuade her more than anything emotional. If he could appeal to her practical side, then he could win. Emilie nodded once and that was good enough for him. Carter left before she could change her mind.

Of all the people she had to live next to, it had to be a good-natured cop who had a key to her place.

This morning, all she wanted was to wash the grime off her skin and hair. She had taken a washcloth to her face the night before but the rest of her was still filthy. Lee had told her she wasn't allowed to get her dressing wet so that had left her at a disadvantage. Her first thought was a bath and she'd just keep her leg out of the water but the wound was so high up her thigh that she'd only have three inches of water to work with. Emilie had been trying to reach the shower head and remove it from the wall so she could direct the spray and keep it off her leg when she slipped and knocked over all of her bottles. She had landed pretty hard on her bum leg, which sent spikes of pain through her whole body. Tears clouded her eyes and then she was sitting down, crying and feeling sorry for herself.

Admittedly, those tears were for many things including Bobby and her old life. She had been owed a few good cries, probably had one more in her till she found her footing again. But what didn't need to happen was her nosey neighbor taking it upon himself to come over and fix her. His sincerity was the only reason she hadn't kicked him out. Carter truly felt it his duty to help her out. Maybe it was because of his job, maybe because she was his tenant and neighbor, maybe it was just because he was that kind of guy. Regardless, he pushed himself in and now she had to go get breakfast with the man.

If only his fingers didn't feel so damn good on her scalp, then maybe she could be mad at him.

The thing about Emilie was that it took a lot for her to get well and truly mad at someone. She burned hot and fast. Furious for a good ten minutes and then fizzled out. She would give people a second, third and even fourth chance but when she was done, she was done. Nothing could change her mind. It was a Virgo quality and one she had proved true quite a few times.

Carter had only annoyed her. Even her annoyance had dissipated into nothing by the time he was done with her hair.

Emilie grabbed a washcloth and began to wash the rest of her body while her hair towel dried. Carter yelled up the stairs a few minutes earlier that he was running next door to get changed. If she thought it would make any difference, she would hobble her way downstairs and flip the lock. Her plans for the day had been to unpack and be lazy. She deserved a few days of not worrying about anything. Plus, this place didn't feel like a home yet. Her stuff would help that.  

Then Carter had to come in, rescue the princess and take her out for breakfast. Being social, even on a breakfast between acquaintances level, took too much effort. He wouldn't understand. Carter was made from the same cloth Dean was. They needed social interactions. They thrived on being around people. Emilie didn't. She thrived when she was alone. That's not to say she didn't like people, she did, some people. There weren't many. But yesterday had been more than enough social interaction for a few days.

Healing made her cranky and a cranky Emilie wasn't fit for the public.

Every excuse she could think of was ruined when she thought about Carter's smile or his eyes when he was rinsing her hair. The soft "I've got you," as she leaned her head back into his palm had been like a warm hug. It had been a very long time since she let someone take care of her. Even Bobby was kept at arm’s length when it came to some things. Emilie liked to take care of herself. It was a strength as much as weakness.

And it was hard to think of ways to get out of breakfast when the man buying it for her was so pretty.

"Dammit," she muttered at her reflection when she knew he had won.

Emilie finished wiping off her body and was pissed to find that Carter was right. She did feel better now that she was clean. She took her hair out of the towel, ran a brush through it and then braided it.

He was coming up the steps with her suitcases when she opened the door. He had changed, jeans and a sweatshirt, but his smile remained the same. Open and honest. Genuinely happy to see her.

"You didn't have to do that," she said as he lugged her clothes up the last few steps.

"No, I didn't but I did anyway." Carter walked past her into the only room on the second floor. He lifted the bags onto the bed, unzipped but didn't open them and then walked back out. "See you downstairs in ten."

Emilie smiled a little. She wasn't sure how to react to this man doing things for her. Emilie picked guys who she could control for a reason. Men like Carter scared her. Guys like Bobby were easier. They let her wear the pants in the relationship. She controlled everything. But Carter would never go for something like that. He controlled. He dominated.

She put on a pair of yoga pants so her leg wouldn't be restricted.

As promised, Carter was waiting downstairs. To her surprise, he didn't get up to help her on the steps. Maybe it was the glare she shot his way. Maybe it was the "you touch me, you die," vibes she was giving off. But he stayed put and watched her with an amused expression on his face.

"Ready to go?"  

She nodded. He ushered her out the door with a hand on the small of her back. When he followed her around to the passenger side of his truck she growled at him "I can open my own door."

He smirked. "I know you can. I also know you would prefer it if I let you do everything yourself. But that's not how I was raised. I open doors for ladies and I also help them into my truck when they have a hole in their leg."

Emilie looked at the step and frowned. That would have been tricky on her own. He held out a hand and let her do the rest. When they were both buckled in and pulling out of the driveway she said, "it's not that I don't accept help. I do. All the time. It's that I don't know you."

"Only way you get to know someone is by being around them," he replied.  

Damn logic! She hated when it was used against her. "I don't feel social right now."

"I wouldn't either after what you've been through. Remind me again what it is that happened?"

Emilie laughed a little. She wasn't sure if that had been his goal but he smiled her way. "Nice try."

"Thought it was worth the shot. But I get it, Emilie. That's why we are just going to get some food, then stock up your kitchen so you can rest for a while."

The diner was a small, renovated train car. There was one car out front and from the windows, she could see only one person inside. Emilie sighed a bit in relief.

Carter helped her out of the truck. She even waited for him to do so. With his hands on her waist, he guided her down to the ground. She hated how her pulse sped up when he touched her. Hated how his warm smile made her breath catch. Even the mask of bitchiness she wore to keep people away from her seemed to fail around him. Carter saw right through it, smirked at it even. He thought her defenses were amusing.

Inside the diner, she was happy when he ordered half the menu because she was starving. Not having a full meal in almost a week made her snippy, which probably explained why she was so crabby with everyone lately. Emilie ordered the other half of the menu and dared him with her eyes to say anything about it.

Wise man, he didn't say a word. Well, almost.

"I'll give you half of my bacon in exchange for half of your sausage."

Emilie considered the deal. "Ok, but I also get one of your pancakes for one of my slices of French toast."

Carter held out a hand. She shook it. The deal had been made.

"So how is the leg this morning?" he asked, while their feast was being prepped.

"Stiff but the swelling is down and the redness is gone."

He nodded. "Your cheeks aren't flush anymore either. Fever officially gone?"  

"Broke last night."

"Good," he said with a smile.

Emilie had to turn away because she could no longer blame her flushed cheeks on a fever. When their food came, Carter didn't say much else. The silence was companionable and the food was perfect. Emilie ate everything and hadn't felt so delightfully full in a long time.

Even on the way out, he had paid then walked her around the side of the truck. He helped her up without a word from either of them. As much as she hated to do it, she had to break this perfect silence because it was beginning to worry her.

"So you suddenly realized that we have nothing more to say to each other?"

Carter's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Not at all," he exclaimed. "You had said you weren't feeling social so I didn't want you to feel you had to be with me."

"Oh." She had said that she just didn't expect him to listen.

He was watching her. His eyes switching between the road and her face. Concern knotted up his brows. "Why don't I take you home. I'll go out and get you a bunch of staples for your kitchen and bring them back."

"No, it's fine. We're already out."

He shook his head and turned back the road toward their house. "But you have a headache."

She did have a headache. It was a little alarming how he knew by looking at her that she wasn't feeling well.

He laughed at the look on her face. "I'm a trained observer, Em. One just has to pay attention to see the signs. Most people don't pay enough attention and miss the obvious."

Emilie would have to think on that for a while. There was more to that statement than face value. In the meantime, "And what's obvious about me?"

He didn't answer right away. They pulled into the driveway and Emilie relaxed. Looks like it would be nap time for her. Unpacking would have to wait. Carter didn't turn off the truck but got out and came around to help her. This time when he helped her out, he didn't let go of her waist. Even as her feet touched the ground he kept hold of her.

Since he wasn't moving, neither was she. Emilie kept her hands on his shoulders. From the outside, they looked like two kids at a middle school dance. Inside their little bubble, Emilie was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Carter was just watching her, a pleasant smile on his face. He seemed content to just stand there all day. When the wind blew and pushed a stray piece of hair into her face he lifted one hand from her waist to tuck it behind her ear.

"Nothing is obvious about you, Emilie," he explained. Her eyes lifted, interested in where this was going. Carter was studying every tick, every blink, every twitch of a smile. She felt more naked now than she had yesterday. "That's why you are so fascinating to watch."