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How the hell had they piled up so much between them in such a short time? Their first encounter had been just a week ago tomorrow, and it was pushing it a bit to count that, since it had been that moment outside the doctor’s office.
He shoved his uncharacteristically scrambled thoughts aside; there was a job to do right now. And obviously she had something to say, so he didn’t reach for the button to summon the elevator yet.
He’d seen her shiver when they’d left the hotel and walked toward his truck. It had dropped below freezing last night and was still in the thirties, judging by the frost on the patch of grass outside the lobby. Her worn denim jacket was no match for that. He’d shrugged off his own shearling jacket and put it around her shoulders, startling an “Oh! No, don’t,” out of her.
“Hush,” he’d said, borrowing the word he’d heard her use with Nick. And tried not to think about the fact that the jacket had already spent the night in her room, as he had in his dreams.
While she was no doubt thankful he hadn’t claimed the payment she’d thought he was after.
Yes, they were going to have that discussion on the way back.
Now, when she reached for the side of his jacket, he thought she was going to pull it off and hand it back since they were inside. He was distracted for a moment by the down button lighting up on the elevator panel, indicating somebody else would be riding it down. When he turned back, to his surprise, he saw her reach into the pocket of his jacket and pull out his sketchpad.
“I know you’re furious with me, and rightfully so,” she said, in an almost timid tone that irritated the hell out of him. “But Nick’s done nothing wrong. So may I show him your drawing?” He stared at her. She’d seen it? “I didn’t snoop, not really,” she said hastily, that same apologetic note in her voice. “It fell out when I accidentally knocked your jacket off the chair. I’m sorry if—”
“Stop apologizing.” He’d wanted to snap it at her, but with what he’d realized last night, thanks to his mother’s knack for understanding, he couldn’t find it in him. So he added quietly, “Please.”
“I…” She stopped as if she couldn’t think of anything to say other than that apology. Or that she didn’t want the worried-looking couple that had just exited the elevator to hear her.
“Going to apologize for existing?” he asked as they stepped into the waiting car.
“Sometimes I want to.”
It was barely a whisper, but he heard it. Heard it and it stabbed deep, causing an ache he was sure was minor compared to the one that had made her admit it. This was going to stop. Whatever it took, this was going to stop. And he added one more topic to the list for the long ride home.
“Show him the damned thing,” he said as he hit the button for Nick’s floor and the doors slid shut, leaving them alone in the moving space. “Hell, give it to him if you want. I don’t—”
He stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering. Had she seen that, too? Had she seen the next page in the sketchbook? When he’d done the one of the two of them, it had seemed only natural—a loving reunion in a hospital after a medical issue. And he was, as always, the observer, that half step back, taking it in, processing, and then letting it out again in physical form. Focused on capturing the emotion between two other people, the love and caring. Much like she had in that series of photographs.
That had been safe, distant.
The second drawing was neither.
He hadn’t even meant to do it. He’d only been barely aware of flipping to a fresh page and starting, almost as if he were still mentally in the previous image. It had poured out in a rush, that second image, his hand moving more swiftly on this one. And he’d done it almost without looking at her, as if every detail was already present in his mind.
If she hadn’t seen it, he’d just practically guaranteed she would, by telling her to give the first one to Nick. But then, looking at her, seeing the way her eyes darted away, he knew.
“You saw the other one.”
He knew he hadn’t imagined the way she stiffened her spine before she turned to look at him. “Yes.” She took a quick breath. “I didn’t think you did that.”
He drew back just as the elevator stopped at their floor. Was she angry, that he’d sketched her without…what, asking permission? “Did what?”
“Flattery.”
He blinked. She stepped out of the elevator, not even looking at him as she went. Which was just as well, because he couldn’t think of a thing to say.
He left her alone with Nick the rest of the morning, wandering back to the cafeteria and grabbing more coffee, something he’d been doing a bit much of lately. Maybe that was his problem, he was just too wired, too much caffeine. He sat by a window for a long time, searching for answers that seemed elusive.
When a pretty young woman in hospital scrubs asked if she could share his table, his earlier thoughts made him tell her it was all hers, he was just leaving anyway. She looked disappointed, and he wanted to tell her not to, she wouldn’t have been getting any bargain in his company today.
The doctor came in a little after noon. Nick was checked out and inspected—like a steer ready for market, he groused, making Ry smile despite his touchy mood—and the paperwork started. An hour later, with the barest of assists, he was in the passenger seat of the truck. Kaitlyn climbed into the smaller crew seat behind, and Ry wondered if she was relieved that she didn’t have to sit next to him.
They got Nick back to the assisted living place where he had a one-bedroom apartment that could have been anywhere, except for the emergency call buttons and pulls strategically placed throughout. It was small but not cramped, and spotlessly clean. And judging by the group of staff that met them at the door, Nick was a favorite. There were many worse places he could be.
And might be, if not for Kaitlyn.
Once reassured that he was home and safe, Kaitlyn seemed to relax a little, and he got to observe more of the relationship between them. And even he couldn’t miss that she was never this relaxed around him. And that bothered him, although it shouldn’t; the man had been in her life a long time. Certainly a lot longer than the week he had known her.
