Chapter Three
“You!” Emma blinked up at the man she’d hit with the door earlier that day. “What are you doing here?”
His frown remained as he reached for her. “Who are you?”
Alarm replaced Emma’s momentary stupor. She slapped his hand away and scooted backward on her butt. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you following me?”
Idjit.
Of course he wasn’t. She’d only just arrived. Technically, she’d followed him.
Plus, there was the small fact that this wasn’t even her house.
“Following you?” He gave her a weird look. “Lady, I don’t even know who you are.”
Scrambling to her feet, she eyed the knives sticking out of the block on the counter to his right. “Ditto. Let’s call the police and let them sort it out.”
Why were the good-looking ones either taken, conceited, gay, or crazy?
“Emma?” A gruff voice called from the doorway to the living room behind her.
Twisting around, she found her neighbor leaning against the doorframe. “Dom? When did you get… Oh my God!” She sucked in a breath. “What did he do to you?”
Deep red, purplish bruises covered his face, neck, and arms. She couldn’t tell where one ended and another started. They were everywhere. Even his fingers.
Overcome with a fierce protectiveness, she placed her body between the two men, held up her fists, and glowered at the intruder. “You lay another hand on him and I’ll…hit you so hard you won’t be able to tell me who you are because…you won’t remember your name.”
Lame.
Yeah, but she was running on adrenaline and had no control of her mouth. She did, however, have control of her fists, and refused to let anything else happen to her friend. Dom was a lean, muscled, fighting machine. It didn’t compute in her brain for him to receive such a beating without putting so much as one mark on the other guy.
The intruder balked. “Wait a minute. You think I did that to him?”
Before she could reply, spurts of laughter rumbled behind her, intermixed with bouts of coughing and an occasional muffled oath.
“Never happen.” Dom choked on a laugh as he moved around her. “Damn, that hurts.” Doubled over, he waved a hand at her and the other guy. “Emma, meet my brother, Vince. Vince, meet my neighbor, Emma.”
Brother?
Lowering her fists—just an inch, because she still didn’t understand what was going on—she tried to recall what Dom had told her about his brother.
Former Army Ranger who now worked on a ranch. “From Texas?”
“Yes.” His guarded expression eased as he thrust out his hand.
Still in defense mode, she jerked back.
“Hey.” He frowned and held his hands up. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say it was nice to finally meet my brother’s neighbor. He told me you watch his place when he’s gone.”
She glanced from his hands to the concern in his warm brown eyes. “Sorry. I-I’m still processing.” Heat rushed into her cheeks as she slowly offered her hand. “Not sure what’s taking my brain so long.”
Or why she shook like a chihuahua in a blizzard.
What the heck?
“It’s okay. It’s normal.” He gently shook her hand and motioned toward the high-backed stools that bordered one side of the center island. “You’ll be fine. It’s just the adrenaline wearing off.”
Right. Because she was an idiot who’d just tried to take on an intruder.
She eyed her injured neighbor as he slowly shuffled across the kitchen to ease his battered frame onto one of the chairs on her right. Her mind finally registered the fact he wore a pair of gray sweats and an unzipped hoodie over a bared torso that looked like one big bruise, with a bandage wrapped around the middle like a mummy. Probably too painful to slip on a shirt, she reasoned, and her heart squeezed. “Shouldn’t you be lying down?”
“Don’t bother,” Vince said. “I’ve tried all afternoon to get him to lie down and take his pain medicine. He refused both. It’s like beating a dead donkey.”
“You mean horse,” Dom corrected.
Emma smiled, catching his brother’s meaning. “No, I don’t think he does.”
“Hey.” Dom’s brows knit together, and he would’ve pulled off the offended expression if not for the amusement flickering in his eyes. “I thought you were my knight in purple kittens.”
She glanced down at her uniform and snickered. Work required everyone to wear scrubs, even the nonmedical staff. Most days, she wore solid ones. Today, though, had felt like a printed set kind of day. They made her feel happy, and since she woke up feeling it was going to be a special day, she’d reached for the kitten ones.
“I appreciate you watching over the place while I’m gone.” A large, badly bruised hand covered hers on the counter, while his gaze darkened to navy and bore deep. “But don’t ever try to stop an intruder on your own again, Emma. I’d rather they robbed me blind than for you to get hurt. You hear me?”
“Yes.” She brushed her thumb lightly across his hand, careful not to hurt him. “Why are you home? What happened? Is the assignment over?”
Dom stiffened and released her. “No. The guys are still on the mission.”
With her earlier stupor all but gone, she finally got a clue. “You were hurt, and they sent you back here.”
His top lip curled. “I should be with my men.”
“Best thing you can do for your men is recover,” Vince said. “You fell through a roof.”
“Jesus, Dom.” She sucked in a breath. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Her neighbor’s scowl deepened, but he remained silent.
She knew that look. Saw it plenty of times on several men. It was the I-can’t-talk-about-the-mission expression, warning her not to bother asking him questions. Any attempt to get him to speak would be exactly as his brother had stated, and she wasn’t into beating a dead donkey.
In fact, she suddenly felt drained of energy.
“Here.” Vince slid a mug in front of her. “Drink this. You should stop shaking soon.”
“Thanks.” She cupped the mug and watched him head to the stove. The resemblance was more obvious now. Same dark hair as Dom’s, but Vince wore it a little longer, and his eyes were a warm brown, where his brother’s were a stark blue.
Mmm…chamomile.
Her favorite tea. How had he known?
Wait a minute.
Frowning, she turned to Dom. “Since when do you have tea in the house?”
On more than one occasion, she’d slipped some into his cupboard, only to retrieve the unopened box out of the trash a day later.
“Since I made a supply run,” his brother replied over his shoulder while stirring something on the stove that smelled so incredible her stomach rumbled.
Dom shifted on his seat. “Civilian life has turned you soft, bro.”
Vince chuckled, and the low sound rippled through Emma. “Don’t waste your breath trying to pick a fight with me.” He smirked at Dom. “You know it won’t work, princess.”
She choked on her tea. “Princess?”
Her neighbor was tall and broad and oozed so much testosterone females swooned two states away. There was nothing feminine about the guy.
“Forgive my brother. He thinks he’s funny,” Dom grumbled.
Vince turned to face them both and grinned. “I don’t think. I know.”
Emma laughed, warmed by the lighthearted banter, and when the men insisted she stay for dinner, she agreed, only leaving long enough to retrieve her purse from her car. Not cooking was always her favorite dinner option, especially when someone else was much better in the kitchen.
Vince was the real deal. She had no idea chicken, tomatoes, and cheese could taste so good in a soup. A soup. She also discovered “princess” was a childhood nickname given to her neighbor when he was a baby.
Vince pointed to his brother with a spoon. “His lashes were so long, and his features were so perfect, women were always mistaking him for a girl. It just sort of stuck.”
Glancing at several days’ worth of stubble covering Dom’s clenched jaw, and the muscles bulging beneath his unzipped hoodie, she shook her head. “Yeah, not seeing anything ‘princessey’ about him now.”
Same with his brother.
Equally blessed with long lashes and faultless features, Vince was just as tall and broad, and Emma knew firsthand his body was full of lean muscle from when she’d jumped on his back.
An act that normally would’ve embarrassed her, if not for the stark concern she’d harbored for his brother at the time.
Yeah. The Acardi brothers were far from “princessey.”
“Damn straight.” Dom glanced at her. “Enough about me. How do you know my brother? You acted like you recognized him when you were on the floor.”
Shoot. Even injured and in agony, the man hadn’t missed a trick.
Vince cleared his throat. “We ran into each other at the hospital today.”
Understatement of the freaking year.
She snickered, and could tell by the way his lips twitched that he was holding back a grin. “Your brother’s being polite,” she told Dom. “I nearly took him out with a door. I keep forgetting the ones from radiology open into the corridor.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I hit it with my shoulder. No big deal,” Vince reassured her. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly watching where I was going, since I was in a hurry to get to a certain stubborn SOB before he tried to check himself out of the hospital.”
Dom shrugged. “You need better friends, bro.”
“Friends my ass. You know it was you. Besides, you can choose your friends.” Vince scoffed, and a second later, he echoed his brother’s chuckle.
Envy squeezed Emma’s heart. The comradery between the two awakened her longing for a sibling that stemmed back to childhood. According to her widowed mother, “it hadn’t been in the cards” while her father had been alive. And since her mother never remarried or even looked at another man, it’d been just the two of them. Not that she’d had a bad childhood. Emma had just always wanted the relationship with a sibling like the ones her friends had.
“So, how are things with your doctor?” Dom asked, turning his attention to her and pulling her back to the present.
She stifled a sigh. “The same, although, for a moment there, I thought he was actually going to do it today.”
Vince frowned. “Do what?”
“Ask me out.” Odd. She never blushed, but for some reason, the Texan’s unblinking scrutiny sent a rush of heat into her cheeks.
Dom stood and shifted his feet. “How much time is left?”
She was really starting to regret ever mentioning the darn deadline.
“Seventeen days,” she replied.
“There’s a time limit on him asking you out?” Vince’s gaze bounced between her and his brother.
“Four months ago, Emma set a deadline for a doctor she works with to ask her out,” Dom answered before she could, pausing every three or four words to breathe in.
The idiot was in pain, and it was getting worse. It wasn’t the first time Emma marveled at the stupidity of men and their pride. Although, to be fair, she knew several women who fell under that category, too.
She, of course, wasn’t one of them.
“Remind me again, why aren’t you in bed?” In fact, she was beginning to wonder why they even allowed him to leave the hospital. He kept alternating between sitting and standing, as if neither brought any relief.
In a typical defensive move, he straightened his shoulders and cocked his head. “Because I’m hungry.”
She glanced at his untouched soup. “I can tell.”
“Getting to it,” Dom grumbled.
Vince’s chuckle echoed across the island. “She’s got your number.”
And the Texan got her attention with his pleased expression and contagious grin. His cheerfulness was going to drive Dom nuts. That made her smile widen.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice, Emma.” The obstinate man tipped his head again. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
Keyword was “trying.”
“Let’s get back to your doctor deadline,” he said.
“Yeah, I need to get this straight.” Vince set his spoon down and scratched his jaw. “You’ve been waiting four months for this doctor to ask you out? Does he have a pulse?”
“Yes.” She laughed, aware of the heat infusing her face again. “And before you ask, no, he’s not gay or attached. And it hasn’t exactly been a full four months. More like three.” After his breakup, she’d kept her attraction to herself, not wanting to be his rebound. But once he started dating again, she set her hospital gala brunch deadline. “My coworker thinks if I pretend to date another guy—you know, casually to show I’m desirable to other men—Stephan will come around.”
Dom lifted an eyebrow. “Forbidden fruit is always more tempting…”
Vince shook his head. “That’s because we’re idiots.”
Emma blew out a breath, relieved to find neither censure nor judgement in their gazes.
A smile twitched Dom’s lips. “Speak for yourself, Vinny.”
Vince grinned outright. “You would need a smack upside the head with a sledgehammer—or tank—to get a clue if someone like Emma was trying to get your attention.”
“True.” Her neighbor shrugged. Then winced.
Enough was enough.
Having watched the man suffer all through dinner, Emma set her spoon down and frowned at him. “You left the hospital. Fine. You don’t want to lie down. Fine. But why aren’t you taking your pain medication?”
“Don’t need it.”
Irritation prickled her neck. Men and their foolhardy notions about showing weakness.
“Yes, you do,” she said. “You just don’t want to look like a…a…princess.”
Vince’s snicker ricocheted across the room, but his brother didn’t bat an eye.
“That’s not it.” Sitting down, Dom shook his head and winced. Again. “I’ve seen too many good men go from injured to addicted.” Determination filled his gaze. “That’s not happening to me.”
She understood his reluctance and his concern. Over a decade ago, her grandfather fell off a roof and broke his back, and after his recovery, he had a hard time weaning off the morphine.
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Vince said.
Emma believed him. Just because he appeared all teasing and smiles didn’t mean the guy was a pushover. Or stupid. There was an underlying strength, a stubbornness, and intelligence behind those amber eyes.
Probably had made him a great Army Ranger when he was active duty.
Emma slipped off her stool and headed to the medicine bottles she spotted on the counter by the fridge. No morphine, but there were muscle relaxants, and they could be highly addictive, too.
“Your concern is understandable, Dom,” she said, turning to face him. “But you barely sit for two minutes before you have to stand. Then you sit again, because you can’t stand.” Enough was definitely enough. “There’s a difference between concerned and stupid. Taking medication for the first few days is not going to make you an addict.” She set the pills in front of him.
Approval flickered through Vince’s eyes as their gazes met. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.” He slid a glass of water next to the pills.
Her stubborn neighbor stood with a grimace. “I said no.”
Emma jammed her hands on her hips and lifted her chin, prepared to do whatever it took to square off with her hardheaded friend. “For goodness sakes, Dom. Just take the medicine, because if you don’t, you leave me no choice but to call a certain female who we both know would jump at the chance to pamper you.”
Apprehension flickered through his gaze a second before his eye twitched. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yes. I would.”
Vince’s lips quirked. “Now, this sounds like something I need to see. Call whoever she is and get her over here.”
She laughed. The Texan really was quite cute. Too cute for her own good.
Alarm bells rang in Emma’s head. Her brain had no right—or permission—to think thoughts like that. Shaking them away, she refocused on her neighbor.
His gaze narrowed. “You’re bluffing.”
“Oh really?” Emma lifted a brow while fishing the phone from her purse hanging on the back of her chair. “I happen to have Chelsea’s number. A few weeks ago, she texted me to put in a good word for her. We both know she’s just chomping at the bit for a chance to be with you.”
The blonde was one of many groupies that fawned over him at the local bar and grille, except Chelsea was a bit more over-the-top than the others. Lordy, if that woman ever got wind that Dom was back—and injured—she’d be on his doorstep with chicken soup in one hand and her suitcase in the other. He wouldn’t be able to sneeze without her handing him a tissue, glass of water, a cold compress for his forehead, and a marriage license application.
His jaw clenched. “Are you blackmailing me?”
If blackmailing the stubborn man got him to take the medication to give his body some relief and a chance to heal, then so be it. Just to make sure he took her seriously, Emma began to scroll through her contacts. “It’s your own fault. If you won’t take the medication now, you’ll take it for her so she’ll go away.”
“Fine.” He grabbed the pills. “I’ll take the damn things. But on one condition.”
Unease trickled down her spine. “What?”
“You fake date my brother.”