Tessa Teevan - Incinerate

“Jesus Christ,” I can’t help but whisper. Hell, I’d be a moody son of a bitch if I had all those injuries, too.

“Yeah, he also had some brain swelling so they placed him in a medically induced coma for a few weeks, but they claim there’s no brain damage. That remains to be seen,” Cohen says, grinning at me. “It’s been three weeks since he left the hospital, and hopefully next week he’ll get the all clear to stop wearing the brace. Make sure when you go to his appointments with him that you get your orders straight from the doctor or else Knox might lie about his progress. I don’t trust his ass to take it as easy as they tell him to.”

I start to respond, but Knox interrupts. “Excuse me, I’m right fucking here. Cohen, don’t you need to get Jace home? I can inform Charlotte—sorry, Charlie, ”—his eyes narrow when he emphasizes the word Charlie—“here about everything that’s happened over the last month and a half.”

“Whatever, dude. The patient’s all yours. If he gets too grumpy, just give him a pain pill. Those knock him out and will give you some peace and quiet,” Cohen jokes as Knox slaps him on the back of the head as he goes to leave the room.

Cohen and I follow, and he gives me a few more details before he and Jace get ready to leave. “You kids have fun and try not to bite each other’s heads off,” Jace says, laughing as he walks out the door, missing the middle finger that Knox gives him.

“Good luck,” Cohen tells me, offering a small smile, apparently knowing all too well how difficult this patient is going to be.

I nod in thanks and shut the door behind him, leaving Knox and myself alone for the very first time.

Knox

THE SOUND of the door latching echoes through the living room as I watch Charlie lean back against it, her eyes closed as she takes a deep breath. It never clicked in my mind that she was the one I was expecting until Jace connected the dots. To be honest, I had hoped that once I was fully healed and in a better place mentally I’d see her again out in Clarksville sometime. After I fucked things up last night, I couldn’t get her off my mind, but I know I’m nowhere near ready to get involved with anyone. That’s why I was thrown off guard when she showed up on my doorstep this morning.

I was curious about her conversation with Jace, and I wouldn’t put it past him to meddle, so I automatically assumed he’d set this up. Never in a million years did I think creepy guy volunteer Charlie would turn out to be gorgeous, can’t-get-her-off-my-mind Charlotte. She’s the first and the last person I want to see right now, and I have no idea why I feel that way after just two minutes of a stare down at the bar.

I don’t know exactly what it was. The way she was sitting at the bar by herself, playing around on her phone, not paying attention to anything around her, had me watching her. When she introduced herself, she had a sexy confidence, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. I don’t know what it was, but something in that short time made me want to get to know this girl—which is exactly why I shot her down.

Fuck, I’m an idiot. I don’t know if it’s because of how I acted or because of how I’m feeling now. Shaking my head, I grab the remote and turn on ESPN, wanting something to fill the silence.

Charlie finally moves away from the door, grabs her briefcase, and sits on the couch facing me. She pulls out a notepad and a pen and then puts glasses on. They’re thick brown frames that highlight the color of her eyes rather than hiding them. Something about the combination of the glasses and the briefcase has me thinking naughty professor, and I’m kind of shocked that my dick is picking up on it.

Picking up the pen, she begins to ask me questions in detail about the explosion, my injuries and surgeries, and all the subsequent doctor visits since then. It’s not exactly something I like talking about. I give her as little detail as possible but just enough that she knows what she’s getting into. She listens intently, nodding and giving me sympathetic looks as I tell her what I remember about the incident.

There’s not much more that I hate than pity, so I try to end the conversation, but the girl is relentless with her interrogation. Her face softens as I tell her about waking up from the coma. The look she’s giving me is a combination of both sexy and sweet and I’m finding it hard to concentrate. She keeps chewing on the end of her pen, and my cock goes hard in two seconds flat as I envision those sweet, plump lips wrapped around it. Trying to discreetly readjust myself in my basketball shorts so I don’t scare her off with the giant tent, I grab the pillow from behind me and place it in my lap as she continues her line of questioning, frequently sucking on the pen. Finally, after about twenty minutes have passed, my dick and I get some relief as she puts her things away and stands. Thank freaking Christ that’s over with.

“I know your brother’s been here to help you, but this place looks like it could use a good cleaning, so I’m going to get to work. Need anything before I start? And is there any place in the house you want me to avoid?” she asks, and I’m taken aback at the question. Most women I know would be dying to snoop around.

“I’m good. I’m getting used to sitting around doing nothing. And no, there’s nothing off-limits.” She’s about to leave the room when a thought pops in my mind. “Hey, actually, there’s a book on my nightstand. Can you grab that for me? It helps pass the time.”

She nods and disappears, only to walk back in a few moments later, her eyebrows raised at the book she’s holding.

“You’re reading War and Peace? Don’t you already have enough trouble staying awake with your pain pills?” she asks teasingly as she hands me the second volume. The sexy grin on her face has me itching to grab her hand and pull her into my lap, but the bulky brace would just be in the way and I’m in no shape to pleasure her the way I want to.

“I’ve got nothing but time, sweetheart. And…well, Jace bet me a hundred bucks that I wouldn’t finish it, and I hate to lose,” I admit.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’ll have to let me know how it turns out,” she says before grabbing her iPod out of her purse. She puts the headphones in and exits the room, leaving me alone with Tolstoy and the talking heads on ESPN.

An hour later, I’m still trying to lose myself in the world of the Rostovs and the Bolkonskys, but my mind keeps wandering to the brown-eyed girl who’s signed on to hang out with me over the next few weeks or however long she’s going to be around. I hate that I’m thinking about her, and I hate even more that I’m going to be tortured by seeing her every day. I know she’s attracted to me. I saw it in the way she checked me out last night and then in the way her eyes took in my bare chest this morning. I have to admit that it does something for my ego since it’s been killing me to stay inactive. I swear I can feel the muscle mass melting off me every single day that passes and it's doing nothing to help the bad mood that's been hanging over me for the past few weeks.

Closing the book and setting it aside, I contemplate going to find her to help ward off some of this loneliness that's been gradually creeping up on me since I left the hospital. If we’re going to be spending time together, we might as well get to know each other—platonically, of course. If she’s still around when I’m fully healed, then maybe we can test the physical waters. Maybe.

I’m about to get up and go in search of her when I hear her phone beep and notice it sitting on the table. Picking it up to take to her, I can’t help but glance at the screen. It’s a text from some guy named Drew.