Page 41 of Love Bound

We decide on coffee for me, water for him, cheese omelets, muffins, and grapefruit. I start to bang around in the kitchen before I see him trying to extricate himself from the jacket.

Then he needs the sweater off too. It really is almost too warm up here. Heat rises, and just like at The Inn, I had set the thermostat to high before I fled, thinking we might lose power.

He lists suddenly on his feet. His color is terrible and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his face and neck. Sweat soaks his T-shirt.

"Hey, let's get you back into a bed," I tell him.

But he doesn’t want to and settles on the sofa. "The kitchen table shrank," he says, trying for humor I think, but his eyes are closed.

"It's because all four leaves are taken out." My answer is perfunctory, informative. I don’t want to encourage more conversation—he needs to rest.

I think he dozes off while I putter in the kitchen, but when I deliver food and turn around to pour coffee, he’s settling in a chair. We don’t say much aside from agreeing that the food tastes great. I realize I haven’t eaten since early evening, and he, probably even earlier. He's not looking at me and it makes me nervous, but I guess if he were to stare at me I'd be more rattled.

He doesn’t finish his food. Instead, he moves to rise and I try to help him, but he's already up and heading to the bathroom. This makes me feel weird, and I hover outside the door.

What if he falls?

Ten minutes roll by and twice I scoot fast out of the hall because I swear he's coming out and I don't want him to think I'm loitering. Then, the bathroom sink water runs for a long time.

I decide to go out and check on Salty, deliver some grain, lift out some muck, and offer fresh hay. It’s cold and gray, but at least the wind has stopped. I still have to watch every step I take and twice I nearly fall flat on my ass. There's a thick casing of ice on everything. The horse seems genuinely pleased to see me and as I break off the two flakes of hay, he nuzzles my arm, finishing up by snorting in my jacket pocket for apple bits.

"Sorry, buddy. Too much going on," I tell him.

I get the same kind of “sorry” when I climb the stairs back to the studio.

"Sorry about taking so long." Finn's on the sofa looking rested and his color is better. "I had to check out the damage. You did a good job."

Heat flares to my cheeks. "I'm a vet though, not a doctor."

"You dressed me like a field medic," he says.

I sit down across from him on one of the old overstuffed chairs. "I take training classes with Devon once in a while so I can learn all this stuff. I've used QwikClot twice and had some trouble with it."

"Third time's the charm, then."

If he's right, then I’m in danger—in danger of losing myself. I've only been in love twice before. I shift uncomfortably on the sofa. My wall is still up.

I decide to plunge ahead so I can lower it. "So, do you have any kids?"

His face hardens, but just before it does, I see something so unguarded, so tender I want to kiss him.

"No." He sighs and shakes his head. "No, I don't." His gaze shifts directly to me. "I can’t really talk about it much, Claire, but I lost a child before he was born. A little boy."

Blood rushes in my ears. I'm an asshole. "God, I'm sorry."

He shakes his head again and looks out the window. "I can’t believe you haven't cyberstalked me."

"What?"

"You know, when I first moved in. I thought you'd look me up on the Internet and have me all figured out by now," he says.

"No. I’d never do something like that."

He clenches his jaw and for some reason, I think I'm about to get some kind of lecture about why I should always cyberstalk someone, but then he throws his left arm—the arm that won't pull his side—over the back of the sofa and tips his head back.

The bones of his clavicle are right there, warm under that T-shirt, and his Adam's apple moves up and down when he talks—and I can’t concentrate at all. I cross my legs, but my panties are at once warm and wet.

"Here's the thing," he says and tilts his head forward again, though he doesn’t look at me and stares out at middle distance somewhere. "My wife was murdered."