The thought that she might actually want him jolted through his body, making him instantly hard and throbbing.
Her hand crept beneath his hair to the back of his heck, where her fingertips skimmed a hesitant circle.
His body responded to the uncertain caress with pure, ravenous hunger. “Good Lord,” he breathed, and jerked back.
She blinked, but if his sudden rejection stung it didn’t show. Unless the huskiness in her voice came from hurt feelings instead of arousal. “That was really weird,” she said. “The room went haywire on me all of a sudden.”
“Try ‘stupid’ instead of ‘weird.’” He shifted her so he could stand. “Didn’t you know I would help you if you needed to use the bathroom?” He interrupted his scolding to grunt as he stood, bringing her up with him.
“Oh, Seth, don’t. Your leg-”
Great. She’d noticed him limping. “It’s fine. Now, do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She ignored his question. “I’m fine, too. Or almost fine, anyway. I can walk. You might have to help me a bit, but I can walk.”
He obviously shouldn’t have given in to her pleas that morning to be allowed to make it into the bathroom on her own two feet. It had given her delusions of health. “You are one damn fool woman. Now which do you want—back to bed, or to the bathroom?”
She sighed. “Bed.”
Sitting with her on the bed was easier on his knee than bending to lay her down. He certainly didn’t do it because the trusting warmth of her body, or the arms she’d wrapped around his neck as he carried her, were already dear to him. Desire was understandable. Predictable, under the circumstances. “Dear” was—well, ridiculous.
“Why were you up?” he asked, scowling. She sat right up against his thigh, much too close. He’d have to move, in just a second. “If you didn’t need the bathroom, why were you heading that way?”
Her teeth gnawed on her lower lip. She looked away. “I wanted to borrow your razor.”
He stared. “You wanted to what?” He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe she’d risked herself over something so trivial. “How could you be so stupid? And if you absolutely had to shave your legs, why didn’t you wait until I came back in so I could help you?”
“Because I didn’t want you to help me! Because—” Now she turned her face to him. Her eyes glistened like rainsoaked grass. “Because I wanted to find a mirror. I don’t know what I look like, Seth, and I wanted—I wanted to be by myself when I found out. I don’t know why.”
Oh, Lord. He ran his hand through his hair.
She didn’t know what she looked like. What an idiot he was, not to have realized she’d need to see her face. “There’s no mirror in the bathroom.”
“But when you shave—”
“I don’t need a mirror to shave.” He didn’t need to look at her, either, when he talked to her. So he didn’t. “There’s a mirror in the pickup. I’ll take you out there. But I’ll let you be alone to look. I won’t intrude.”
“Seth,” she said, sounding as if she was about to cry. He felt like more of a fool than ever. He should have anticipated this. “Oh, Seth,” she said again, “do your scars bother you that much?”
His gaze jerked back to her.
Her lips trembled into a smile. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t like to discuss it, but learning that you don’t have a mirror in your house, well…” She lifted her hand and touched him on the left side of his face.
He couldn’t move. He tried, he could have sworn he tried to move, but her fingers were kitten-soft. Then she moved. Drew closer. And brushed her lips across his cheek in a gentle kiss.
He carried her out to the pickup. As they crossed the porch, Rocky sighed a gusty canine sigh and heaved herself to her feet. She’d assigned herself two jobs when she moved in with Seth last month: chasing deer and rabbits away from his gardens, and accompanying him whenever he went outside. She obviously didn’t consider advanced pregnancy reason enough to shirk her duties.
Sophie gave him a hard time. She wanted to walk, but he pointed out how muddy the ground was, how she might slip, and how he was already carrying her and had no intention of putting her down, so she might as well quit being so bossy and relax.
“Me, bossy? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who’s studying with the Terminator School of Nursing.”
She went on to explain to him exactly how bossy he was as he and the dog skirted the biggest puddle, and he nodded agreeably. Her fingers still clutched at his shirt too tightly, but the hint of panic fluttering around behind her eyes had eased off as soon as she started arguing.
He knew just how frightening it could be, having to face your image in a mirror for the first time. Of course, her situation wasn’t like his had been, but the fear might be similar.
He opened the pickup’s door and slid her onto the seat. “It’s dirty,” he said apologetically. “I use it to haul stuff.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Her tone was as absent as her straight-ahead gaze, and she still clutched his shirt.
“I’ll let you be alone now,” he said, and patted her hand to remind her that he couldn’t leave until she turned him loose.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said suddenly.
He waited.
“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” She looked at him. “Stay with me?”
In answer he gently scooted her over and sat down behind the steering wheel.
She took a deep breath, reached for the rearview mirror and angled it toward her.
Seth tried not to watch her. She might have changed her mind about doing this alone, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be staied at. He bent and scratched Rocky behind the ears, and he waited. But Sophie was quiet for so long he had to look.
She held her head tipped so she could study the left side of her face, where the scabbed-over scratches made ugly tracks. Her fingers traced those scabs anxiously.
“They’re pretty shallow,” he said gently. “It may take them awhile to fade completely, but they shouldn’t scar.”
Her head jerked toward him. “Seth, I didn’t mean to—”
“No one wants to be scarred. Especially not a beautiful woman.”
Her eyebrows went up in two surprised half circles as if she didn’t believe him when he called her beautiful. She shook her head slightly and looked back into the mirror. “I don’t think I’m forty yet, do you?”
“I don’t think you’re thirty yet,” he said dryly.
She sighed. “I guess I’m finished staring at myself.”
She was quiet while he carried her back inside, not chattering and smiling. He was sure he liked it better that way. If she’d stay quiet he could pretend she wasn’t here.
When he bent to set her back in the bed, her arms tightened around his neck briefly. And she did it again. Kissed him, right on his scarred cheek.
“Thank you, Seth,” she whispered, and turned him loose.
The next day Seth still felt that kiss. Both kisses.
Bright, blue-lit skies shone down on the scrub oaks that staggered up the slopes surrounding his small valley and the cabin he’d built after leaving the hospital almost two years ago. The radio weatherman said another front was moving in, but it was supposed to miss this area. The skies should be clear for days.
Sophie rebelled.
He’d managed to ignore her yesterday by working in the south garden and the drying shed for hours, something he’d needed to do anyway if he didn’t want his harvest to date of seeds to go to waste. She’d pestered him with questions last night. Not that he’d minded telling her about his gardens. They weren’t that big a deal, after all. The world wouldn’t be a different place if he did manage to breed a commercially useful Mexican persimmon. So what if he’d taken a few courses? It was just a hobby, like he told her.
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