Page 64 of Stables

“I have milk, water, tea, or I can make you some coffee?” She stands next to her chair, wringing her hands nervously.

Fuck. I pushed her away, and now I’m paying for it.

“Some of that amazing tea sounds delicious. Can you tell me how you make it?” I feel like I need to get her comfortable again.

“You really like it?” She fetches a half-gallon jar from the refrigerator and pours us each a glass. “It’s mint, chamomile, a little lavender, and a couple of drops of vanilla. Oh, and some sugar.” Her smile works her frown away as she sits. “Most of it comes from the garden. When I have extra money, I’ll use honey from the farmer’s market instead. It’s so much better.” Her fingers briefly touch my wrist before she shies away.

Damn it all.

“It’s my new favorite.” I raise my drink and take a long swallow.

I’m not even exaggerating.

“Thank you,” she says, dropping her gaze to her colorful plate.

She must have worked hard on this salad, it’s filled with almost every vegetable I can imagine.

A million times better than the bland industrial food they offer at the hospital cafeteria.

“You grew all of this?” I gesture my fork at the last remaining bites. “That has to be hard in this heat?” I continue to be impressed with her.

“I get bored eating the same thing every day.” She squints up at me. “Last summer all I really managed was carrots andlettuce. A few tomatoes. But I’m learning.” She points to her last slice of cucumber. “I had no idea how hard these buggers were to grow. Everyone said they were easy. Same with spinach. Who knew it likes to bolt as soon as it gets warm?” She rolls those big blue eyes, and I can’t help but smile with her.

“It’s a skill. I’ve heard it takes longer to become a master gardener than it does to become a doctor.” I stand up before she does, taking her plate to the sink.

I need to remember to pick up some of those dishwashing tabs to free up her time.

For what?

Me.

“I find that hard to believe.” She follows me with our empty glasses, stacking them on the dishes.

“No, really. How many kinds of plants are there? Thousands? There’s only one human body.” And I very much want to learn every inch of hers.

She looks up, moving close enough I can smell the kiss of chamomile on her lips. “You still have a bit of dirt.” Her finger waggles next to her nose, pointing at my jaw. “If you wanted to take a shower, I have clean towels.”

Her palm hovers over my bicep, but she pulls back before it lands. “The water is slow to warm up,” she calls over her shoulder.

I’m left staring at her bright red shorts disappearing down the hallway, fighting every cell in my body that is screaming at me to chase her down and pin her against the wall.

Chapter 17

Char

Why didn’t he?

I wanted him to, so badly.

But the only time he touched me, was to pull my hand away.

I’m an idiot. All I can think about is for him to…want me.

He’s here. That has to count for something? Except it leaves me huddling in bed, cold and alone.

Maybe it’s for the best. I’m a fucking train wreck.

There has to be a glaring neon sign on my forehead that flashes “warning” every time he looks at me.

---