Page 53 of Beach Cottage Kisses
And while he and Joel were still alone, he had the younger man order him up the wheelchair with a brake on it that was what he was going to need. While his left side and back would continue to be tender, he had enough upper-body strength to get himself from chair to toilet. And they discovered that the bed in his spare room,a queen that was lower to the ground than his king, was better for him to get himself on and off from than the couch.
The freezer door—a top, not side, model—could be accessed with a reacher-grabber tool, ordered online for same-day delivery. And he could access the ice packs, and return them for cooling, with the same apparatus.
For good measure, he had Joel order him up a shower chair, too. Just in case. He was certain he could stand on one leg long enough to get the business done, but he knew others wouldn’t approve of that course of action. And since no one would be around to witness his use of the chair, or a one-legged stance, ordering the chair was clearly the obvious choice. Just because he had it didn’t mean he had to use it.
By the time Iris returned from a trip home, via a walk on the beach with Morgan and Angel, Scott was in another fresh pair of shorts and T-shirt, and was sitting up on the couch. With pillows supporting his back and another set of them under his left leg. Iris had picked up a tray with little legs that straddled him side to side and he had his computer open on it and had just hung up from the office. The call had been brief. Just a check-in. He’d answered a couple of critical questions, though, without once having to grit his teeth against the pain running up and down his left side.
Joel had made it clear that he thought Scott was lacking in mental acuity for not taking the pain medication. The therapist didn’t know about Scott’s greater hurdles, nor the bigger-picture course he’d set for himself.
The dogs bounded into the living room first. Followed closely by Iris. The first thing he noticed was the leopard print. Again. Accompanied by an immediate, inappropriate and not even justified jump to thoughts of wild activities.
“You’re working?” Her lighter tone, the possible approval he heard in her voice, drew his gaze to her face.
And the smile she was wearing along with the leopard print.
“I am and we need to talk.” Another jolt of sexual desire pushed the words right out of him. He’d meant to finesse. To use his professional skills to convince her that she agreed with the plan of action ready to be put into motion.
It was going to happen, either way. Had to happen. He’d just feel better with her support. He didn’t want her mad at him.
A new thing in their friendship—the idea that shewouldget mad. Prior to his injury, their easygoing friendship had never entered those waters.
The realization required a bit of his energy for the second it took him to process the fact that things were changing in spite of their resolve. Sexual attraction, and the possibility of anger…
“What you need to do is eat lunch,” Iris said, pulling a grocery bag out of the large black satchel she’d carried in and opened. A satchel he’d been eyeing as a threat and needing it to go right back out. She had the lid off a container she’d pulled out of the grocery bag before he found a refusal, and the sight of the sub…all the protein she’d piled on it… Well…he did need to eat.
He needed all the protein he could get. Protein repaired cells.
She had to go. But the food. There was a lot of it. Way more than just a sub. Chicken salad with grapes. Broccoli salad. Potato salad. Coleslaw. Some green gelatin. And a fork.
“I asked Dale to stop at the deli on his way home last night and pick up some salad. He brought two pounds of each of these.I know you aren’t fond of pineapple, but I don’t think any of these contain it. I tasted them all.”
Suddenly starving, Scott dug in. Praised the food. The deli. Dale.
He didn’t praise Iris.
He couldn’t even begin to list all of things she’d done for him in the past two days. All without being asked.
Had no words to express his gratitude.
Instead, as he handed her the empty paper plate and used fork, he said again, “We need to talk.”
He’d have kicked himself if he’d been able, as she turned her back and, without a word, left the room.
He’d meant to express his undying appreciation. To let her know just how much her being there during the past two hellish days had kept him going.
Admitting that he couldn’t have done it without her.
Instead, he’d talked to her like she was some space age robotic servant with no feelings. Maybe a way to kill off any latent attraction that she might, somehow, if the moon fell to the earth, still be harboring for him after the past days of awkward physical TMI.
But not at all the way to preserve a friendship that meant more to him than ever.
“We’re already an hour late for your pills.” She was back. Handing him the medication before taking a seat in the chair that had somehow become a bedroom to her. “I kept watching for Joel’s van to leave. He must have worked you hard.”
Yes, well, Scott did feel as though he’d been run through an assembly line complete with paper presses. But Joel’s lengthy stay had been caused by the after-workout, “provide for Scott’s autonomy” business.
As soon as he’d swallowed the last pill, took a breath to dive into his charge, argument, summary and verdict.
Before he got started, Iris said, “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
