Page 69 of In This Moment

He came in the back door, locking it behind him. A once-over, and he sighed. “Did you take anything for the pain?”

“No.”

He nodded, eating the span of the kitchen in a few strides. Opening the cabinet, he shook out a pain pill from the prescription bottle and her antioxidant from another, passing them to her.

In a daze, she took them, swallowing them with the glass of water he held out.

“Wait here.”

He disappeared, and the sound of bathwater running filtered toward her. Moments later, he returned, wearing only his boxers.

“Up you go.” An arm behind her back and another under her legs, he lifted her and made his way through the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom, where he carefully set her on her feet.

Be still her heart.

He’d laid out her pajamas on the vanity and put bubbles in the running bathwater.

Dang, but her chest hitched again, and she nearly sobbed. He was taking care of her. Like her parents used to. Like Gammy used to. Rebecca could take care of herself. If anyone knew that, it was Graham. But sometimes, it was nice to have someone else do it for her. Or care enough to try.

Through a watery haze, she stared at him. “Thank you.”

A solemn nod, and some of the tension eased from his features.

He undressed her, lifted her into the bath, shed his boxers, and got in behind her. It was a tight fit in such a small tub, but the intimacy threw her for a punch. As if she could handle any more surprises, he washed her hair, her aching body, helped her dress, and put her to bed, where he cuddled with her until she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

A couple days later, Rebecca stared at her screen in the Gazette office, tweaking the article Mrs. Roberts had suggested she write regarding fibromyalgia. Per her, it might help bring awareness to the condition within the parameters of town and make people more understanding. Graham had thought it a great idea, too, and had gotten quotes from a few medical personnel near Atlanta.

She rolled her head to stretch her neck. Her body had calmed down since her afternoon of gardening, but the ever-present achiness was always there. Especially because it was due to rain again this afternoon. Springtime in the south. It still beat fall, winter, or spring up north.

After his parents had headed back to Minnesota yesterday, Graham had been acting normal. Less brooding and troubled, more like his affable self. She wasn’t sure what discussion he’d had with them that might’ve set him off, but she hadn’t gotten the impression he wanted to talk about it.

Thus, they hadn’t.

Yet, her revelation about falling in love with him hung in her peripheral, waiting to be addressed. She’d spouted the three words in past relationships to a couple partners, but in honesty, she knew now she’d been lying, if by complete unawareness. What she felt for Graham, how they were together, was like realizing she’d been dating with her eyes shut before him. Still, she didn’t want to rush him or make him feel pressured to say it back.

Worry ate at her esophagus he might not feel the same.

Maybe she should call her besties to hang out tonight. Hash it out with them first.

The front door chimed, and she glanced up from her computer in the back of the building. It was too soon for Graham to be back from picking up food, and she’d just flipped the storefront sign to Closed during the noon hour.

Gunner Davis strode in, hiking up his trousers and looking around.

Interesting.

She rose, wondering what on earth the mayor was doing at the Gazette in the middle of the day. “Hello, sir. What can I help you with?”

He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and repocketed it as he walked to her desk. “Hello, darlin’. Graham around?”

“No, he went to grab some sandwiches from What A Pickle.” They’d probably be backed up with orders this time of day, plus Graham liked to take a walk during lunch. She glanced past Gunner through the window. The sky still threatened rain, but it hadn’t let loose yet. “He might be awhile.”

Plucky II chirped as if to confirm her statement.

“Good.” He dragged a chair from Joan and Jefferson’s station, pulling it beside her desk. He set his briefcase on the floor. “Wanted to run something by you.” He deposited his girth into the chair and rested his hands on his knees, winded.

Alrighty. She reclaimed her seat. She hoped to all that was holy it didn’t involve interviewing him for an article. There wasn’t a soul in Vallantine who didn’t know the mayor or his life story. She couldn’t listen to another of Gunner’s ‘back in my day’ lessons without wanting to rip her ears off.

---