Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin
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to Josh, where they proceeded to roll over for tummy rubs.
“My fierce protectors. They seem to have forgotten that immediately rolling over for intruders does not exactly establish their dominance.”
“They know an alpha dog when they see one,” Kate quipped.
“Hey, Kate.” Josh lifted his square masculine jaw by way of greeting.
Josh and Kate’s warm familiarity set my mind to work instantly. Did I sense some chemistry? My matchmaking skills, long dormant, sprang back into action. Josh and Kate? It had possibilities. Sure, she was seeing Marc Ramirez off and on, but it never hurt to play the field, so to speak. I took some pride in the fact that Marc, a linebacker for the Patriots, was actually one of my past fix-up attempts for Kate, from before she’d even hooked up with Owen Glendower and had Ellie. Not that I’d had anything to do with them hooking up again once Owen vanished from the scene, but I had introduced them. It counted for something.
“Hey.” She smiled big, as if Josh was her favorite new friend. “Thanks for bringing over the Lexus. I owe you one.”
I nearly fell off the couch. “You owe him one?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. How do you think he got the keys?”
“So, on the way to pick up the kids—”
“I stopped by the Habitat site and asked Josh if he could drive your car over. Fortunately, he was willing.”
Josh smiled. The two of them shared a glance. “Kate, you know I’m always willing.”
Wait a minute. Kate asked Josh to drive my car over? Maybe she was beating me to the fix-up game. Turnabout was fair play. Was I rubbing off on her? Did she somehow see a future for me with, gulp, Josh Brandon? I looked from Josh to Kate and back again, trying to figure it out. No. I was being ridiculous. Kate hated matchmaking far too much to get wrapped up in it. And Josh? No way he was attracted to me. But then, he drew in close and knelt at my side, those blue eyes a gas flame burning into me.
“We’ve established that Nick Angelos says you’re fine, for what that’s worth.” Josh laughed. “But I’d like to have another look. Do you mind?”
“Look? At my ankle? You?” I tried to contain my gasp of surprise. Josh didn’t even like me. Kate, poor thing, was so bad at this sort of thing. Bless her for trying, but—why was he looking at me like that? Why did he even agree to bring my car over? What alternate universe had I ended up stumbling into? I remembered the gentleness of Josh’s touch after I’d first fallen and I knew I could at least trust him to make an assessment, yet why did I feel so cornered? “And what makes you any more qualified than Nick?”
His gaze steadily held mine. Unsettled, I looked away and sought his lips, which curled with amusement. He had nice lips, actually. Full, soft. Not as rough-looking as one might expect considering the time he spent in the sun. “Years of experience. I’ve seen all kinds of injuries through the years.”
“Hmm.” I contemplated his words, or rather, his lips as he formed them. “And you think you can heal me?”
“I’d like to try,” he said, and his words seemed to hold so much more meaning than a desire to fix my ankle. For a second, I looked at Josh and saw a man. Just a man, not the dictatorial construction foreman. But it passed just as quickly. It must have been my admiration for his well-formed mouth.
Silly of me, really. There was no way I could actually imagine even going on one date with Josh Brandon. No doubt his idea of romance would be to plunk me on the back of his bike, take me for a spin around the block, and stop off at his favorite bar for a few bee-ahs. Or maybe he was more into the whole Lady and the Tramp Italian dinner scenario, one plate of spaghetti, two meatballs. My gaze caught on that mouth and I had a sudden vivid image of being caught on opposite ends of the same strand of spaghetti.
“Whatever,” I said, to hide my blush, lifted my ankle outside the blanket, and tugged up the leg of my sweatpants to the knee. “Do your worst.”
“Only my best for you, Ben.” He winked before he turned his attention to the strips that bound my injury. “What’s this?”
“Nick’s shirt,” I said, flushing at the memory of his bare torso, those perfectly sculpted abs. “He ripped it to make bandages for me.”
Josh snickered. “Get real.”
“My thought exactly.” Kate joined the conversation, bringing cold drinks out from the kitchen, a sparkling water for me, a beer for Josh. “You should have seen him carrying Bennie across the room like a delicate heroine from a romance novel. Blech.”
“It was romantic.” I had to protest their disapprobation. “He was really sweet.”
“And shirtless.” Kate nodded. “Under a suit jacket. He looked like something straight out of Saturday Night Live. You know, those brothers that Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell used to do.”
Josh removed his fingers from my ankle as he boomed laughter. “The Butabi brothers. Night at the Roxy.”
“Yes!” Kate joined in. “Those morons. Ha!”
“More like Daniel Craig,” I said. “From Casino Royale. Or David Beckham.”
“Or Fabio.” Another wisecrack from Josh. More laughter from Kate.
“You just don’t like him.” I pulled my sweatpant leg back down.
“Who does? He swans around like he owns all of Boston, for God’s sake. Now, come on, I wasn’t done looking. Give me your leg.”
“What, so you can make fun of Nick’s gallant efforts again?”
“I’ll be nice. I promise. Let me look. I want to make sure you don’t have to go to a hospital.”
“All right,” I allowed, on a sigh, as I pulled my sweatpants back up to reveal my leg.
“Ellie still asleep?” Kate gestured to the baby monitor at my side.
“I hobbled up to check on her a little while ago and she was sleeping soundly. She lets out the occasional snore as if to reassure me that she’s not waking any time soon.”
“I’ll go check on her.” Kate excused herself, leaving me in Josh’s hands. Literally.
Again, Josh’s touch was light. When he looked up from his examination, he seemed genuinely amazed. “It looks great. How does it feel?”
“Better,” I said, eager to defend Nick’s efforts. “But it still hurts,” I added, enjoying the thought of an evening on the couch being waited on. It didn’t hurt at all, actually. It was as if nothing had happened. Kate returned with a still-sleepy Ellie in her arms.
“Unreal. I would have expected the bruising to last for weeks, but it’s nearly gone,” he said, over my head to Kate. “No more swelling. Maybe Nick did know what he was doing after all.”
He followed the assessment with a long swig of beer, as if the concession had left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Good,” I said, covering back up with the blanket. “I hate hospitals.”
Who didn’t? But the room grew quiet around me as if everyone silently acknowledged why hospitals might be worse for me than for the average bear. Kate had given birth to Ellie in a newfangled birthing center, keeping me a safe distance from the horrible place where my husband had died in my arms.
Oh. God. The thought took me by surprise. Not that I wasn’t used to random flashbacks of being with Patrick, of suddenly missing him, of bursting into tears unexpectedly. But lately, it had happened less often, and I’d started to think I had it all under control. And then, in a heartbeat, it all came back to me, flooding over me, threatening to drag me down into that desperate, dark, and swirling pool of grief all over again. I choked, gasping for breath, feeling as if I were about to drown.
Before I knew what was happening,