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Sarah squinted. “I…I don’t know.”
Her uncertainty sounded genuine. He had expected to hear a flat-out no.
She sank into her pillow. “Is it something I need to decide right now?”
“Dr. Marshall wants you to tell the nurse your decision. Arrangements have to be made if you choose a SNF.”
She rubbed her thumb against her fingertips.
“Attitude plays a role in healing,” he continued. “Hood Hamlet will be better for you in that regard.”
“Give me a minute to think about it.”
Cullen didn’t know why she needed more time or why he was trying so hard to convince her. Yes, he wanted to do the right thing, but her decision changed nothing. If she refused his offer, the next time they saw each other…They wouldn’t be seeing each other unless she challenged the divorce terms. The way it would have been if she hadn’t had her accident.
The bed dwarfed her body, making her look small and helpless. Strange, given she was the strongest women he knew next to Leanne Thomas, a paramedic and member of OMSAR.
Sarah grimaced.
Two long strides put him at the side of her bed. “Your head.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I may have overdone the walking today.”
His concern ratcheted. “Does anything else hurt?”
“Not any more than usual.”
Using the back of his hand, he touched her face. She wasn’t flushed, but a temperature could mean another infection. “You don’t feel warm.”
She closed her eyes. “My brain might be rebelling from having to work again. Think I probably need another nap.”
“Probably.”
But Cullen preferred to err on the side of caution. He checked the circulation of each finger sticking out from her cast. He wanted to blame his anxiousness on the Hippocratic oath, but he knew there was more to it than that. The more part revolved around Sarah. He wished it weren’t so. In time he hoped—expected—not to care or to be so concerned about her. Time healed all wounds, right?
She opened her eyes. “You always had a nice bedside manner.”
He didn’t want her words to mean anything. He hated that they did. “It’s easier with some patients.”
“With me?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
“Yes.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a slight, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”
He brushed hair off her face. “You’re welcome.”
Her eyelids fluttered like a pair of butterfly wings.
He remembered when she’d slept against him and her eyelashes had brushed his cheek. The urge to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close was strong, but he couldn’t give in to temptation. This woman had trounced his heart once. Whatever else he did, he couldn’t let himself fall in love with her again.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she said softly.
“You’re being yourself. I wouldn’t expect any less.”
But he expected more from himself.
Seeing Sarah injured and hurting brought out his protective instincts, but he had to be careful. He had to be smart about this, about her.
She’d claimed to love him right up to the day she brought up divorce. She’d lied about her feelings and let him down in the worst possible way.
He didn’t trust her. He couldn’t. No matter what she might do or say.
Memories and feelings he’d thought he’d buried deep kept surfacing. He liked keeping his emotions under wraps, but he found it much too easy to lose control around Sarah. He couldn’t wait for her to turn down his offer so he could be done with her.
She stared at him. “I don’t need any more time to decide. My goal is to recover as soon as possible. My apartment is too small for a caretaker to stay with me. A SNF would be too impersonal.”
The implication of her words set him on edge. “So that means…?”
“I’ll go to Hood Hamlet with you. If that’s still okay?”
It wasn’t okay, not with the way Cullen was feeling right now. His heart pounded and his pulse raced, as if he’d run to the summit of Hood post-holing through four feet of fresh snow. An adrenaline rush from physical activity, no problem. Adventures with calculated risks, fine. The way he was reacting to Sarah? Unacceptable.
Still, Cullen had made the offer. He wouldn’t go back on his word. But he would have to keep a tight rein on his emotions and remain in control. He clenched his teeth. “It’s fine.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u23a456c9-8bc2-5521-9534-a49e67643ba3)
GET SARAH HOME. Get her well. Get her back where she belonged.
Driving to Hood Hamlet on Highway 26, Cullen focused on the road and tried to ignore the woman seated next to him. Not an easy thing to do with the scent of her sweet, floral shampoo tickling his nostrils. He grasped the leather-covered steering wheel with his hands in the ten and two o’clock positions, exactly as he’d been taught in driver’s ed.
He’d rarely driven this way as a teenager. “Hell on Wheels” best described his brother’s and his driving styles back then. But after Blaine had overdosed, Cullen prided himself on doing things, including driving, the right way, the correct way, to make things easier on his grieving parents. He’d made some stupid mistakes in the past, but he hoped he wouldn’t make any more where Sarah was involved.
As he pressed harder on the accelerator to pass a semitruck, he fought the urge to sneak a peek at her. He’d done that too many times since leaving Seattle. Concentrating on the road in front of him was better. Safer. He flicked on the blinker to return to his own lane.
“You haven’t touched your milk shake,” Sarah said.
The meaningless, polite conversation of the past four hours made him wish for a high-tech transporter beam that could carry them to the cabin in less than a nanosecond. He’d settle for silence, even the uncomfortable kind of quiet that made you squirm while you struggled to think of something to say. He stretched his neck to one side, then the other. “I’m not that thirsty.”
Cullen hadn’t had much of an appetite since last night. He hadn’t slept much, either, tossing and turning until the sheets strangled him like a boa constrictor. He rolled his shoulders to loosen the bunched muscles.
“You’re missing out. My chocolate milk shake is delicious.”
Sarah sounded as though she was smiling. A quick glance her way—he couldn’t help himself—showed she wasn’t. Her lips were tight.
She stirred her drink with the straw. “Thanks for suggesting we stop.”
Making stops along the way had allowed her to walk around and change positions, but had added time to the drive. “You needed to stretch your legs.”
Their final stop hadn’t been all about Sarah. The truck had felt cramped. Confined. He’d needed some fresh air and space.
“If you’d rather have chocolate, we can trade.” She held out her cup to him. “I like vanilla.”
Memories of other road trips to rock climb flashed through his mind. Stopping to buy two different kinds of milk shakes had become the routine. Sharing them during the drive had been the norm. Pulling over to have sex had been his favorite break. Hers, too.
Whoa. Don’t go there. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Suit yourself, but I’m willing to share.”
Her lips closed over the end of the straw sticking out of the cup. She sipped. Swallowed.
His groin twinged. Blood boiled. Sweat coated his palms.
Damn. He needed to cool off. Quickly. “I’m happy with mine.”
Cullen snagged his milk shake from the cup holder and sucked a mouthful through the straw. The cold vanilla drink hit the spot. A few more sips and his temperature might return to normal.
He was much too aware of her—from the way she glanced sideward at him to the crooked part in her hair. Things he shouldn’t notice or care about.
And he didn’t. Care, that is.
But now that she was an arm’s distance away, her feminine warmth and softness called to him like a PLB, personal locator beacon, beckoning in the night. Only, no one was lost. Nothing was lost except the impulsive, reckless side of who he used to be. The side Sarah brought out in him. The side he had buried alongside his brother.
Sure, Cullen missed the sex. What man wouldn’t? But he’d been surviving without it. Without her. Celibacy was the better choice for now. Blaine had lost himself in drugs. Cullen had seen what losing control did to a man, to his brother. He wouldn’t lose himself in Sarah.
He returned his drink to the cup holder. Maybe if he didn’t say anything to her, she wouldn’t talk to him.
“Is Hood Hamlet much farther?” Sarah asked.
So much for that tactic. He gritted his teeth. “Twenty-five minutes if we don’t hit any traffic.”
“That sounds pretty exact.”
He’d been checking the clock on the dashboard every five minutes for the past two hours. “I drive this way to the hospital.”
“You work in Portland, right?” she asked.
Great, more small talk. “Gresham. Northeast of the city.”
“A long commute.”
“Twelve-hour shifts help.”
“Still a lot of driving,” she said. “Why do you live so far away?”
He tapped his left foot. “I like Hood Hamlet.”
“There have to be closer places.”
“Yes, but I prefer the mountain.”
“Why?”
“It’s…”
“What?”
“Charming.”
“You’ve never been one for charming,” she said. “You thought Leavenworth was, and I quote, ‘a Bavarian-inspired tourist trap on steroids.’”
He had said that of the small town on the eastern side of the Cascade Mountains. “I liked climbing there.”
“Nothing else.”
He’d liked spending time with her in Leavenworth. A glance at the speedometer made him ease up on the gas pedal. “Hood Hamlet is different.”
“Different, how?”
“There’s something special about it.”
“Special?”
He nodded. “Almost…magical.”
She half laughed as if the joke was on him. “When did you start believing in magic?”
He understood her incredulous tone. A year ago he would have laughed at such a thought himself. After Blaine died, Cullen’s belief in any kind of “magic” had died, too. He hadn’t believed in anything that wasn’t quantifiable—whether it was a diagnosis or a cure. Everything had to have an explanation. The one thing in his life that defied reason—his relationship with Sarah—had blown up in his face. “It’s hard not to believe when you’re there. A lot of people feel the same way.”
“Must be something in the water,” she joked.
A trained scientist like Sarah wouldn’t understand. He’d been the same way until three things had changed his mind—the rescue of two climbers trapped in a snow cave last November, the town pulling off its Christmas Magic celebration in mid-December and Leanne Thomas getting engaged on Christmas Day. The three events had defied logic, but had happened anyway. “Maybe.”
“The mountain air, perhaps,” she teased.
“You never know.” But he knew it was neither of those things.
“Whatever it is, I hope it’s not contagious.”
“I have no doubt you’re immune as long as Mount Hood remains dormant.”
He expected her to contradict him, if only to argue with him. She didn’t.
“What else does the town have beside magic?” Sarah asked.
“The people. It’s a great community.” He’d realized how supportive they truly were with the numerous offers of help following Sarah’s accident. “Very welcoming to strangers. That’s how I ended up moving there. I’d driven up to Mount Hood on a day off. I had lunch at the local brewpub and met the owner, Jake Porter. When he found out I was involved with mountain rescue in Seattle, he told me about their local unit, OMSAR. He invited me to go climbing, and we did. I met a few more people. One told me about a cabin for rent. Next thing I knew, I was signing my name on a year lease.”
“That’s serendipity, not magic.”
