past a huge open kitchen, toward a room in the back.
“You need a Christmas tree.” Her eye went to the perfect place for it in front of the windows overlooking the front yard. Close enough to the fireplace for atmosphere, but leaving plenty of room between for presents.
“I’ve got a lot of potential candidates on this lot. It’s almost thirty acres.” He shifted his hold on her again as he angled her through a wide door. He used his elbow to turn on wall lamps that bracketed a simple platform bed with a thick gray down comforter and rumpled pillows in matching gray sheets.
“This is your room.” She pointed out, noticing his suitcase open in one corner. “I can’t kick you out of your room.”
“This is the only first floor bedroom. It’ll be easiest for you to be here. There’s a bathroom in back and the doors are wide.” He deposited her on the bed and toed over the room’s one rug for her to set her feet on.
“I can’t do that—”
“Let’s add this to the list of things we’ll argue about in the morning.” He pivoted and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back with your crutches and any bags I find in your car.”
She sat alone in the middle of J.C.’s bed. A bed he’d probably slept in just the night before. A bed with sheets that—she’d bet—retained a hint of his scent. Was this all part of his plan to show her how much chemistry they shared?
She eyed his pillow with suspicion, begrudgingly admiring a well-played hand.
“You need some help?” He reappeared with purse balanced on top of her suitcase and set both of them within easy reach of the bedside. He’d carried her crutches under one arm and he leaned them against the nightstand. “Do you sleep in that boot or do you want it off?”
“I can get it.” She waved him away, unwilling to take up any more of his time or further impose.
“No offense, Shea, but you look like you’re going to fall asleep sitting up.” He knelt in front of her and lifted her surgery boot onto his lap. “I can at least dry it off if you don’t sleep in this.”
“I don’t.” She leaned forward to work on the laces, but he was already making quick work of them. “I’m not an invalid.”
“No. But you had surgery three weeks ago and it takes your body longer to recover than you realize.” He stretched the canvas wide, ensuring she had lots of room to slide her foot out. “Besides, your father would kick my ass if he knew I let you break your neck under my roof.”
That made her laugh. “Hardly. I don’t think my neck has been that big of a concern for him since I turned my back on that hockey prep school scholarship to go to New York.”
J.C. didn’t seem to hear her, however, his attention focused on her foot now that he’d freed it of the protective shoe.
“Your bandages are half off.” He pointed to the slumping elastic that had slid down to her ankle. “Can I rewrap it for you?”
Lifting her leg to assess the damage, she could see what he meant. “I probably did too much today. And since when do you know first aid?”
She reached for her bag to find some bandages.
“Since I broke half the bones in my body.” He said it in all seriousness as he handed her the duffel she wanted. “Do you have gauze in there or should I go grab some?”
She yanked a bag full of supplies out of a side pocket and set it on the bed, leaving him to do what he wanted while she slid off her poncho, a garment she wore that was easy to get in and out of. She hoped the rest of her clothes would be equally simple to remove since she’d assumed she would have her mom around to help.
Because no matter what J.C. thought about their chemistry, she would not let him help her out of her clothes.
“You okay?” He steadied her foot on his lap, eyes lasering in on hers.
“Sure. Why?” She felt a rush of heat through her veins.
“You shivered.” He sifted through the rumpled comforter at the end of the bed and found a fuzzy white
Learning to Kill: Stories