Chapter Three

      “Thank you.” Kyle paid the delivery boy, hefted the box of groceries onto the counter and closed the door. “Finally,” he muttered.

      He grabbed the tin of coffee, opened it and started a fresh pot of brew. While he waited impatiently he unpacked the rest, bumping into several pieces of furniture in the crowded room as he stored his supplies.

      It wasn’t long before exhaustion dragged at him, caused by staying up too late to open the cards and letters full of sympathy from those who’d known his dad. Kyle turned, swayed and grabbed the back of a kitchen chair to keep from toppling over. He needed to sit, and fast. But first he poured himself a cup of too-strong coffee.

      “Better,” he groaned, savoring the rich taste. “Much better.” But not as good as the coffee Sara had made him.

      Kyle pushed that thought away.

      The prosthesis ground against his skin—his “stump,” he corrected mentally. There weren’t enough calluses to protect the still-raw tissue, even after almost three months. He sank onto a chair, rolled up his pant leg and undid the brace that held the prosthesis in place. The relief was immediate. He reveled in it as he sat there, sipping his coffee. Unbidden, memories of the day he’d been injured filled his thoughts. To distract himself, he booted up his dad’s laptop and checked his email.

      A tap on the window drew Kyle’s attention. Sara Kane stood watching him. He waited to see the revulsion his fiancée hadn’t been able to hide. He searched for the disgust and loathing that had swum through her eyes when she’d seen his damaged limb. But Kyle couldn’t find it in Sara’s dark scrutiny and wondered why.

      What could he do but wave her in? While she entered, he closed the computer and set it on his dad’s desk.

      “Good morning. I brought you some cinnamon buns.” Her gaze moved from the computer to him. She closed the door behind her and set a pan on the table. Her gaze held his. “You didn’t answer the doorbell.”

      “It’s been broken since we moved in here. Dad was always going to fix it but—” Kyle realized he was rubbing his leg and quickly dragged his hand away. He was about to pull down his pant leg when she spoke.

      “I could help you,” she whispered. “If you want help.”

      “I don’t.” Stop acting like a bear, Kyle. “Thank you but I’ll be fine, Sara.” He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her to see his ugliness. “Don’t worry about me.”

      Her solemn gaze locked with his but she said nothing.

      “How did you get here?” He clenched his jaw against a leg cramp then gulped another mouthful of coffee, hoping that would help clear his fuzzy head.

      “Laurel. She had to stop in town before picking up the boys from the airport. I wanted to ask you something so I told her I’d walk over here from the post office.”

      Kyle watched as Sara filled the kettle with water and switched it on. A moment later she’d found a basin under the sink and added a towel from the bathroom.

      “What are you doing?” Kyle demanded through gritted teeth as waves of pain rolled in. He’d refused to take any pain reliever last night, knowing he had to learn to manage it or risk becoming addicted. And he couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to become dependent on anyone or anything.

      “Hot water will ease your soreness.” Sara kept right on assembling things.

      “Are you a nurse?” Kyle clamped his jaw together more tightly. Couldn’t she see he wanted to be alone?

      “If I say yes, will you let me help you?” she asked in a soft tone.

      “No.”

      “I didn’t think so.” A flicker of a smile played with the corner of her lips but Sara kept right on working.

      The woman had guts, Kyle admitted grudgingly as she added cold water to the basin, tossed in a handful of salt and set it on the floor in front of him. Because he craved relief, he didn’t object when she poured boiling water from the kettle into the basin. Steam billowed up as she knelt in front of him. She dunked the towel, thoroughly soaked it then wrung it out. A moment later she wrapped the steaming towel around his stump and held it there, her hands gentle but confident.

      Kyle almost groaned before he flinched away. No one outside the hospital staff had ever touched that ruined, angry part of him.

      “Is it too hot?” She waggled her fingers in the water and frowned. “It doesn’t feel too hot.”

      Actually it felt a lot like a warm hug.

      “Kyle?”

      He studied the top of her caramel-toned head. Somehow Sara’s tender touch eased his yearning to be enveloped in his father’s arms, something he’d craved during his intensive rehab and the weeks of therapy that followed.

      “Kyle?” His name rushed from her lips, urgent. “Is it okay?” Her eyes were wide with—fear?

      Why would she be afraid?

      “It’s fine,” he groaned.

      Liar. It is light years better than fine.

      “I’m glad.” A sweet smile lit up her entire face.

      In the quietness of that moment Kyle couldn’t help but compare Sara’s response to the decimating reaction of the woman who’d claimed to love him. When she’d glimpsed his shattered limb in the veteran’s hospital she had turned away and raced out, never to return.

      Clearly, as he’d noticed several times, Sara was made of stronger stuff. His curiosity about her rose.

      But Kyle didn’t ask questions because the longer Sara’s calm gaze held his, the more his muscles relaxed. She rinsed the cloth three times, each time reapplying and holding it in place until it cooled. Finally the knot of pain untied and slid away. He sighed his relief.

      “The water’s too cool now,” Sara murmured. “I could heat more?”

      “No. Thank you.” Kyle felt half-bemused as he realized his whole body felt limp, as it had when he’d come out of the anesthetic after each of his surgeries. “Where did you learn to do that?” His curiosity about the strength in such a delicate-looking woman grew.

      “My fos—brother used to get banged up. Hot saltwater cloths always helped him.”

      Sara’s slight hesitation before she’d said brother and the way she stumbled over banged up intrigued Kyle. What story lay hidden beneath those few words?

      “It’s a great remedy.” The way she’d knelt in front of him to care for him humbled Kyle. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

      “You’re welcome.” She rose in one fluid motion and glanced at the pan of rolls she’d left sitting on the table.

      His father’s favorite line from Milton’s Paradise Lost flickered through Kyle’s mind. “Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eyes, in every gesture dignity and love.” He’d never known anyone but his mom who’d so perfectly fit the description.

      Until now.

      “I’ll just slip these buns into the oven to warm. You can rest for a while, then, when you’re ready to