Colson rushed to Sabra’s side.

A brute force attack of searing pain bombs rendered her limbs jelly. Sabra’s arms flailed about in a sporadic chorus with her legs unable to figure out what to do with themselves.

His hands replaced hers. Another vicious lash of pain radiated outward as if a cat o’ nine tails splayed out across the back of her thigh.

“It’s too much. Make it stop!”

He’d shifted to sit on the bed with his back to her before Sabra could register what transpired.

“Working on it. Still yourself.”

His words meant nothing as Sabra’s connection to the world around them lost its grip. Her eyes relinquished their ability to focus. The waves of pain blurred everything around them to fuzzy shadows. In the immediate area of her awareness, Cole’s voice cut through the onslaught of punishment.

“Breathe in deep for me, Bria. Breathe,” she heard him saying over and over.

A forceful hiccup almost choked her as Sabra sucked in as much air as possible.

“Yes, that’s it, breathe for me, my love.”

His fingers’ tightness added to the compression garment in confining her movements. Her body bucked as a counter attack of pain resisted his touch.

“Stop it, that hurts,” she raised up trying to both control her movements and push him away.

“Hold still, or you’ll exacerbate the injury.” Cole turned his head to the side and back toward her to add, “help me, don’t fight me. I have to stabilize the muscle by applying pressure to your nerve points.”

“Do it fast for whatever that means,” she found herself screaming.

With his back still to her, Cole bore down harder until her leg felt like it was trapped in a vice. Sabra focused on regaining the use of her other senses.

“Breathe, you’re too tense. Breathe and relax.”

She obeyed snatching a shaky breath to lock it deep within her chest. Another breath and then another torpedo of agony landed. Sabra struggled to concentrate on the task and not the neural haywires flaring in the lower half of her body.

The breathing must have helped. Cole’s administration of a death grip began to wrestle the wayward torrents of torture into a compact focal point. Her eyesight cleared enough for Sabra to take in the view with regained clarity.

The searing pain was still intense enough to drill a hole into her pain threshold as her body attempted to mitigate the torment.

“Bria try to stay still. You’re having a muscle spasm at the injury site. It’s just your body trying to heal and knit the fibers of your muscles back together.”

“I can’t help it,” she squeezed out through clenched teeth. “My body is doing its own thing.”

“I know but focus on the feel of my hands. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded forgetting that he couldn’t see her reply with his back to her. Another round of attacks threatened to twist her back to impossible degrees.

“Ugh! Feels like my leg is trying to contort itself into a pretzel.”

With his back to her, Cole grabbed her leg, leaned back, and brought her thigh off the bed with him. White shards of light spliced through Sabra’s tether to rational thought to reduce her to a flailing berserker.

“I know, I know,” she thought she heard him saying through the nightmarish experience. “It’s my fault. I allowed the pain meds to get too low in your system. Hold on my love, I’m here. Just a few more seconds.”

Her delirium got the best of her as Sabra began to sense weird phenomenon. First, she thought Colson kept calling her his love. Then, warm bands of energy entwined themselves into the deep tissue of her upper leg as if holding it together. Zaps of electricity danced through her thigh sending jolts of power along their path.

Trippy.

Colson continued to lean back with her lower limb in his hands as if wrestling a large game fish onto the deck of a fishing boat.

Diffusion of the delicious cologne unique to Colson pushed through her panicked hallucinations. Earthy spices nestled themselves in the crisp forest blends of the outdoors. The resulting combination mixed with that undeniable musk specific to him tempted her to investigate the origin point—Colson.

Surreal imagery of them locked in rapturous pleasure danced through her mental movie screen. He was close enough for her to run fingers through his thick mane of hair.

Sabra was about to reach out and capture a lock of hair between her fingers when a scent savior came to her aid. Why was the urge to sleep with Colson so intense with all the hell her body was going through?

Determined to beat down the horny hormonal monster within, she focused on her breathing once more.

Her nose allowed the invisible enchantment to envelop and cradle her as he leaned in and worked to contain Sabra’s pain. Like his occupation, his scent held a medicinal quality to it. Colson smelled like the man who could get everything she had if he wanted.

Fear and panic of his effect on her sent Sabra’s heart into overtime. Those damned monitors wailed in protest to expose the impact of his presence so close. Instead of going over to the bank of machines, Colson continued his task of subduing the ravaging torture that was this hamstring tear.

Over and over he worked her thigh in rhythmic circles to apply and release tension from her injury site. Colson did all this while continuing to apply immense pressure to her thigh. Slowing the pain gave way to a pleasant sensation concentrated in the area of his touch.

Sabra couldn’t deny the healing effect his closeness had on her. She didn’t try to hide her fascination with his scent as she took in a long breath.

Aching and sore, her thigh trembled under his vice grip. Sabra couldn’t see what he did with his back turned to her and blocking her sight. But the effect of his touch rendered the shooting pain into a manageable dull throb.

Large, warm, and strong, his hands held the muscle firm through the compression sleeve. Waves of relief radiated through her injury while he held her leg still. His touch reduced and subdued the painful beast that rampaged through her sensory neurons on the attack.

A mental flash of a naked woman riding a huge lion triggered a faint reference to Tilar’s reading for less than a wisp of a thought. Sabra slunk into the bed while the effect of his medical prowess washed over her.

The reward for her relaxing and allowing him to work his magic touch was enough for Sabra’s tension to dissipate. Her muscles ceased from their spasmodic defense against the hateful pain.

“That feels so much better.” Her whisper amplified itself in the stillness of the room’s flat air.

Colson’s attention perked up. Damn it to hell. He’d heard that.

Sabra pressed her back into the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. It was lame, but she hoped he’d take the hint and leave.

No such luck.

The pressure from his hands receded followed by his body heat and those deliciously addictive aromatic base notes he alone produced. There was no way she’d open her eyes to watch him, though. It took a few moments but that silky deep voice called her name, and Sabra was helpless to resist.

“Bria?”

“Yes?” her voice heaved in a breathy mess like she’d run a marathon.

“Talk to me. Did I do something wrong—you know before this episode?” he asked.

Unbelievable. Was he trying to play games with her emotions? Realizing her nudity, Sabra snatched the sheets back into a flimsy shield.

He had to know what was wrong with this entire thing. Instead of letting her frustration get the better of her, Sabra took a long moment to compose herself. She was slow to look over at him. It took her another few beats to get herself together before she could speak. Her insides roiled with confusing turmoil.

“It’s my privacy. You saw me naked and took care of intimate functions for me.” She paused. Those words did nothing to get to the root of her issue. “No, I think it’s more like a whole lot of things.”

“Like what?” he asked and turned around, positioning himself to face her. His voice held a sincerity that assured Sabra he really wanted to know.

“Like my period.” His jaw tightened enough for her to make it out under that heavy beard at the force of her statement. Sabra had to fix this. “I’m not saying you did anything that wasn’t medically needed, but it’s sort of weirded me out a bit. I mean, come on. You dealt with my soiled products, including my tampon. How much more private can you get?”

“I think I understand,” he said, putting up both hands and slipping off the side of the bed. Obvious hurt crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Now she felt like shit. The man hadn’t assaulted her. He’d rendered medical aid. Sabra was embarrassed as hell and too immature to admit it. Colson had saved her life, and this is how she repaid his kindness.

She tried again. This time choosing her words slowly as they formed to figure out what the hell was going on with her.

“Listen—I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. I’m dealing with a lot of emotions around the fact that you’ve seen me at my worst. I mean, come on, dude? That tampon is gross, and I can’t think of how you disposed of it and can look at me like nothing is wrong. Who does that for a stranger?”

“Someone who cares about your safety and well-being. I apologize for invading your privacy. In hindsight, I should have taken you to the closest hospital. My judgment was cloudy under the circumstances. I overstepped, and for that, I’m truly sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel invaded or worse…” Colson’s voice trailed off as if in thought of what the worse could be.

An ache, more invasive than her sore torn thigh muscle, ripped a gash through her gut. He must have thought she thought he sexually assaulted her.

Shit—I’ve screwed this up with my over-the-top antics. Tilar was right once again.

Sabra reached a hand out to beckon him closer. He stood his ground.

Damn.

The rift between them grew with each passing breath. She had to make him understand. “Cole—you did nothing wrong. I’m grateful, truly. I’m the one with issues. I guess what I’m trying to work out is why you’d go through such lengths to help me. No, I’m lying. I want to fess up. I’m embarrassed by how I look and how much drama I’ve caused for you. We’ve just met, and already I’ve got you taking care of me like I’m an invalid. I don’t have the money to repay you, and I’m trying hard to keep it together in front of you, so I don’t keep losing my shit!” Sabra clasped a hand over her mouth at the profanity slip. “Why can’t I get myself together? I’m all over the place.”

“It’s most likely the drugs leaving your system. Some side effects are belligerence, inability to form coherent communication, high blood pressure, and increased anxiety.” He paused to consider her anew. “I think your genetic makeup can’t handle the normally acceptable dosage for that pain killer.”

“That would make sense. I’ve never been able to handle as little as an aspirin.”

Sabra could swear he looked at her with renewed interest. She got the sneaky suspicion she was a test subject in some far-out experiment he conducted. The errant thought was so outrageous she had to pull it back and realized his assessment was accurate. Sabra really was tripping the hell out—druggy style.

“What’s got the wheel of that mind of yours going?” he asked.

“Oh,” it finally clicked into place that she’d been dazed for a moment, lost in thought. “Yeah, I think you might be right about those drugs.” Sabra managed to look directly at him without shying away.

Colson was a good man. He’d done nothing to take advantage of the situation. Instead, he’d done what he could with the resources he had to help her.

“What?” his tone held a little apprehension in it.

“It’s nothing really.”

“Come now, Bria, I can see it is something. Be open and honest with me. Good communication is the only way we move forward.”

Something about the way he said that held more than the one meaning but she let it slip. It appeared Sabra’s mind was working overtime to fight through the remnants of her dwindling drug high.

She chanced another descent into the halls of drug-detox haze to speak again. “I amend my thoughts of you. You must be an angel.” Her heart felt better with the proclamation. Sabra was grateful to him, not angry. She just needed to get past her insecurities to see that.

A slow smile broke out across his face. “Bria, dear one, I was in my medical mode. I didn’t equate the task with anything but proper medical care. I’ve held people’s internal organs in my hands, including intestines. If I can still see them as individuals worthy of respect, a little menstrual blood is nothing. It’s part of what I do. Please, don’t let that make you feel anything that isn’t there on my behalf.” He came back to sit on the bed next to her. “The only thing I want right now is to help you get on your feet. We need to get you bathed and freshened up with fresh sanitary products and clothes. Would that make you feel better?”

Sabra could swear he talked to her like she was a child with that last bit, but he was so endearing she wouldn’t call him on it. He did have excellent bedside manners, though. Colson had found a way to tell her she stunk in the most gentlemanly way imaginable. The guy was smoother than the glide of a seasoned diva walking the red carpet.

Deciding to get over herself, she said, “Yeah, a bath would be wonderful.”

“So, are we good?”

“Huh?”

He’d caught her off guard.

“I said,” he slowed down and repeated, “are we good? You know—concerning the tampon, double impact unresponsive and unconscious head trauma injuries, with the severe hamstring tear.”

“Oh, yeah, all good,” she mumbled.

Colson opened his mouth to speak when a loud doorbell rang. Without a word he rose and went to a panel next to the door. His body covered the panel, but Sabra heard a digital transmission come to life with the background noise of outside.

“Hey, man, it’s Danny,” a man with a lazy southern drawl said.

“I’ll be right there.”

Sabra watched the tall, athletic back of the man who’d taken care of her in her time of need.

“No need, Bron is coming to let me in. She went kind of overboard with the supplies you asked for.”

Colson’s entire body grew ramrod stiff.

“Wait, Bron is with you?”

“Yeah, she said you needed her to help you with the little lady. I know what you’re thinking and don’t worry. Ava is with Mac back at their house. She’s having a ball. All that energy—boy I tell you—she’s going to give you a run for your money real soon. I can tell she’s coming into her Drag—”

“Stop, don’t let her in. I’m on my way.”

Colson took off in a flash leaving the door to the room wide open. Sabra pulled the sheets around her tighter not knowing what to expect. It seemed the woman from the previous conversation would be here soon.

Dread, fear, and a tinge of anger commingled to throw Sabra into a tailspin of confusion. She was vulnerable in too many ways to do anything but take whatever happened to her. With no clothes, a leg that hurt like hell, and no sense of where she was, these people could do anything they wanted.

She was the gullible fool sitting here like a dummy. Sabra attempted to sit up and get out of the bed only to have the breath snatched out of her by the stabbing pain radiating through her thigh. The impact was so intense she could feel her heartbeat in her head.

So much for that. Sabra was forced to fall back into the bed with one leg hanging over the side.

A few breaths to regroup was all she had before a voice higher than hers said, “Don’t worry, Sabra, I’m here to make sure you have a woman’s touch. Here, let me help you back into bed.”

“Beg your pardon?”

A pleasant woman with a smooth complexion the color of deep Cognac made quick work of the distance between the door and the bed. The other woman busied herself helping Sabra get herself covered up with the blanket.

Sabra looked at the short lady fussing over her like a nurse. An open smile with big eyes stared back at her. The overall impression the woman gave off was that of a cute girl-next-door. Sabra’s instinct said the woman meant no harm and wanted to be friends, not foes.

Intuition checked, Sabra’s guard relaxed a bit. It was the other tall man coming in with his arms loaded down that made Sabra’s hiccups erupt once more from the shock.

Tall with a dark blonde hair in need of a quick dust-up, the lanky man’s boots made heavy thuds as he loped into the room. The top of his head was all Sabra could make out with all the packages he held.

“Danny, keep your eyes off of this area,” the woman said, continuing to fuss with the blanket. She’d managed to get it snug around Sabra’s neck by now. Any more tucking in and the blanket would become a choking hazard. Without paying attention to Sabra’s glare to stop with the help, she added to the man, “Please put the items over there in the corner. I’ll be here for a while and sort them out. You can come to pick me up when I call.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Danny. Take that little sprite with you,” Colson’s voice yelled from the hallway. “She knows I told her to stay at home.”

Sabra was confused trying to take in the sight.

“Cole, one—I’m not Ava, two—I’m not a sprite, and I resent the name calling, and three—look at her? She needs another woman here to help with her—current situation.” The woman gave Sabra a reassuring smile like they were in cahoots to her scheme of whatever she had in mind. The “sprite” as Colson called her continued. “Cole—you precious soul—you and I both know you can’t order me around. Where have any of your attempts gotten you thus far?”

Colson’s face was flush with emotion. “Bronwyn, you’re taking advantage, and you know it. Why can’t you obey my wishes for once?”

“Because you’re my brother and I love you. Plus, you need me here to help. Look at her? She’s overwhelmed with all this,” Bronwyn waved a finger to take in the high-tech room.

“Why do you think you know better than me about her care, huh?”

Sabra noticed the protruding belly heavy with a baby as the woman stood up straight.

“Because I’ve been in a similar situation, remember? The last thing I needed was a man hovering over me while I was in pain. You’re a great doctor and all but trust me on this. You need me here for a little while.”

Sabra didn’t miss the narrowing of gray eyes. Then it looked like Colson conceded. “Bron, you need to be off your feet. You’re taking your pregnancy too lightly. Why won’t you listen to me?” Colson’s voice was full of worry and frustration.

The other tall man named Danny was back with another armful of bags. He took special care not to look over at the bed where Sabra and this Bron person were. He was a good-looking guy though. What was it with these tall, masculine men?

“Because you worry too much. I’m not going to break. I’m not the first woman in this family to have a baby, and I won’t be the last.” Sabra could swear the woman gave her a side eye as she said that last part. “You forget I have a mother-in-law who’s more than gracious with advice, tips, and frequent check-ins.”

“Oh, yeah, Aunt Ellie can be a bit much.”

“So,” the woman said, as if ignoring Colson, “I bully who and when I can. You understand?” She launched a wide toothy smile at Colson.

Sabra wanted to tell the woman to go to hell for treating him like that. She didn’t like it and would do something about it. The idea came in a flash.

“Ugh! My leg, it’s hurting so bad.” Sabra reached in the direction of her injury making sure not to actually aggravate it again. “Colson, please, I need your help.”

He rushed over. “That’s it, you two, out!” he yelled at Danny and Bronwyn.

“But I have a nightgown and hair bonnet for her hair,” Bronwyn protested.

“I’ll find it in that store full of bags you had Danny drag in here. Now both of you—out!”

“Fine,” the woman huffed. “We’ll be in the front when you’re settled. I need to speak with Sabra privately about something.”

Colson looked at Sabra who’d forgotten to keep up her charade of great pain. His subconscious question flashed in her knowing as Sabra gave him a nod.

“All right, fine. Once I’m sure she’s ready to receive visitors you can come back in, but only if she’s ready.”

“Good, that’s all I ask. In the meantime, I’ll make you two plates from the food we brought over.”

“Bron, where is your husband? Don’t you need to feed him? I told you I’d make sure to feed her,” he said indicating Sabra.

“I know. It’s not your patient I’m worried about. When’s the last time you ate, hmm?” Bronwyn allowed an accusatory glance to take him in before closing the door behind her.

When they were alone in the room, Colson eyed her and said, “Thank you. I know what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything but ask for proper medical care from my physician.”

He winced at that.

“Cole, what’s wrong? Did I say something?”

He smiled as if to erase his previous slip. “About that. I don’t want you thinking of me as your doctor. I’m just Cole. Please, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, for sure. I don’t understand, though. Why is that a problem? You did treat me. I am your patient right now, aren’t I?”

He looked down.

“Cole? Answer me, please?”

“No, you’re not my patient—never my patient.”

“Then what? Am I a charity case you decided to take pity on?” Sabra didn’t understand where the hurt and anger came from, but there was no denying his stance pissed her off.

This time when he looked at her, there was a hunger and vulnerability Sabra had never seen before. Her breath caught in response to the raw emotion. She waited, not sure what to say or how to act at the moment.

“You’ll never be a charity case to me.” The way his voice dropped had Sabra’s body aching to inch closer. “I still expect that coffee date you promised me. As a doctor in good standing, I don’t date my patients. Thus, you’ll never be my patient. Understand?”

The air in the room offered no support. Flat and void of the aromatherapy she’d become used to, Sabra sucked in deep searching for the non-existent support.

Pitiful was the best word to describe how equipped she was to handle the direction of this conversation.

Embarrassment and shock at hearing his words forced her to blurt out, “Cole, I’m not sure you understand—”

“No, Bria, please let me finish. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep Bronwyn from bursting in on us. She’s gung-ho on getting her hands on you, like I can’t take care of my own ma—uh—house guest.”

For the first time, Colson looked like he wasn’t in charge of the world. The look was endearing in a refreshing way. So, he didn’t have it all together. Sabra drew strength from seeing his vulnerability. That strength fueled a new burst of courage that was enough for her to reach out and clasp his hand.

Choosing to ignore his bold statement about coffee from earlier, she said, “Here, help me up. I have to go to the bathroom. Plus, it’s time I get dressed. There are visitors, and I want to be ready to receive them.”

He gave her a knowing look before speaking again. Once he appeared to have his next words ready, Colson said, “Good but on one condition.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Since she’s here, you allow Bronwyn to help you in and out of the bathroom. She knows all the crap in those bags and can help you with your bath.”

“I’m fine, and I don’t know her. Didn’t we just have a conversation about an invasion of privacy?”

“Yes, but when it comes to medical recovery, privacy must take a back seat. You could slip and fall, lose consciousness, or any number of things that can happen when you haven’t been on your feet in days.” He gave her another one of those looks he got when Colson wanted to show how serious he was. “Bria, you had a concussion and blunt trauma to the back of your head. You’ve got stitches.”

“What? You never said anything about stitches.”

A sheepish look shrouded his face. “I thought I did.”

“Where are they and what did you do to my hair?” Now, Sabra wanted to investigate what he’d done. Her fingers probed the back of her head to find what felt like a snug bandage at the left back of her nape, behind her ear. When she gingerly ran the tip of a finger over the site, Sabra asked, “Did you shave my head?”

“Only the area of impact. I had to clear and clean the area.”

Fresh anger sprouted. “Colson, you shaved the back of my head. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a proper kitchen with natural hair as it is? Boy, I ought to—”

“Bria,” he said in warning. “Would you have rather I kept the hair and let you die?”

The “D” word stopped her in her tracks. Sabra didn’t play around when it came to her life and talk of death. She’d always had a healthy respect for the mystery.

Not needing to think it over, she replied with a bit of contrition, “My apologies. Thank you for saving my life.”

Instead of gloat like she would have, he leaned down and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

“No need to thank me. You have enough stitches from your head injury that I advise you to take it easy with the walking and your balance. You seem to forget your torn hamstring is going to make it hard to maneuver around.”

“Oh, yeah, that.”

Colson added in a doctor-y voice, “You should take a shower with a chair instead of a submersion bath to start. No shampooing your hair for a few days. For now, I’ll get you to and from the bathroom. Bronwyn can help you while you’re in there. Will that work for you?”

“How do you know she’ll be up for that?”

“Because she’s been eavesdropping for the last few minutes.” Colson raised his voice, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Kelnar?”

“Well, damn,” the short woman said coming back into the room.

Close behind was Danny with two trays of food.

The bossy little woman said, “Before we get Sabra into the bathroom, I want both of you to eat something.” Then to sell her point, Bronwyn added, “I promise to go back up front until you call for me the next time—if you eat.”

“Deal,” Colson said before Sabra could answer.

“Toodles!” Bronwyn was a little too chipper for Sabra’s taste.

Sabra didn’t know the woman, but she did know when she was being handled. Bronwyn wanted her to do something. What? That was the question.

Sabra accepted the bowl of what turned out to be tasty chicken soup with plenty of crusty bread to dip and took a bite. She watched the other woman almost bounce down the hallway with satisfaction until Danny closed the door behind him.

She dove in shoveling spoonfuls of the hearty dish. It took a few moments for her to slow down enough to savor the flavor. Her eyes closed with satiable satisfaction. The buttery bread gave the soup a fullness that rounded out the feeling of comfort that she’d needed so badly. Sabra was about to take another big bite when she felt the unmistakable attention of Colson. One eye opened to check her assessment.

Colson sat in the chair next to the bed, food untouched, and eyes locked on her.

With all the excitement of the morning, Sabra had avoided the conversation from earlier—the one that Colson looked like he wanted to continue.

“Yes?” she asked, deciding to be the grownup she had to be.

Colson still hadn’t touched his food, and it was starting to make her look like a gluttonous pig. Sabra pushed the internal put down out of her mind and waited. The silence between them stretched out until a long moment passed. His expressionless face offered no clue about what he’d say or do next.

His voice held a pleasant but distant quality to it as he spoke. “Nothing. Are you finished with your meal?”

“Uh—no.” Sabra didn’t like the look souring his handsome facial features. “Why?”

Colson eyed the food. “Just know that it’s all coming back out in about a half-hour, at that.” He eyed the partially eaten bowl of soup resting at a crooked angle on her good leg. Without waiting for her to ask if he meant she’d have to go to the toilet he spoke up. “Yes, I mean after two days of liquids your body is going into shock trying to digest that food. I suggest you be ready for the aftermath. It’s appropriate for the perpetrator of this event to be present. I told her I would feed you. Looks like she thought she knew best.” Colson made an almost inaudible hmph and added, “Yep, I’ll send Bronwyn in to help you with your—bath and getting dressed.”

Without warning, he stood. Sabra’s mouth hung open as he turned and left the room. The gentle snick of the door closing behind him was the only trance breaker. Sabra sat in the bed alone as a ball of confusing emotions roiled within.

“Well, damn, indeed.” The mumbled words managed to tumble out of her despite her confusion.