Page 51 of Beach Cottage Kisses
He didn’t open his eyes. Just breathed deeply again. Concentrating on the scent. Picturing a field of purple flowers. Did lavender plants bloom?
Maybe it wasn’t lavender. Lilac. They had blooms.
Didn’t have to be anLword.
Scott drifted. Came fully conscious again as his own gasp woke him. He’d inadvertently tried to move his left leg to ease the stiffness. Nausea hit for a second. He was hot. On fire.
As he breathed, catching the scent again, both negative sensations receded. Not because of the smell. But because the initial shock of pain was dulling.
Still…
He opened his eyes. Saw Iris’s frown as she stood over him. “You okay?”
Iris was back. Seeing her, he nodded. “Tried to move the damned leg.” No. Wait. He needed to be a better patient. “What’s that smell?”
She grabbed a small unit with an electrical cord sitting on the table at the end of the couch at his feet. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching down to unplug the bamboo-looking thing. “Is it bothering you?”
“No.” Bamboo? Not lilac, lavender or anything elseL.“I like it.” His voice was thick. Throat dry. She looked so good to him. So damned good. Had he seen those clothes before?
Jeans. Didn’t wear them on the beach.
She’d put her hair in a ponytail. Or had it been that way all night?
No. A strand had fallen on his chest at some point. He’d been on his back and…
She was gone. Had left the room. Because he’d had an inappropriate thought. She was being such a good friend. And he’d…
There she was again. Holding what had become his worst enemy of all time. The ice pack. Knee one. The worst.
Her hand on his thigh was nice, though. So he forced himself to lift the leg himself.
“What is it?” He half stumbled over the words. But had to get them out there. To get back on track.
“What is what?”
“The smell?” He took another long whiff.
“It’s aromatherapy,” she said “It’s called calm waters. Combination of lavender, cedarwood and rose oil.” She’d settled the ice pack, put his leg down. Was loosening the compression on his back to ready it for the same frozen torture. “Rose oil is a cicatrizant, good for wound healing. Cedarwood eases tensions. And lavender is calming and will help you sleep.”
His eyes shot open. Glared at her. She was drugging him? Through his nose?
“I’m happy to take it away if you’d rather,” she said, not looking at him, therefore missing his silent communication. “I just found it helped me one time when I was in a car accident. I’ve continued to use it through the years. Mostly when I can’t sleep.”
Ice hit his back. He wanted to swear. To grab the damned pack and throw it at the wall. To hear the thunk of it hitting. He took a deep breath instead. And let Iris’s oils invade his system.
Better that than lose any of the many battles he was waging with himself.
* * *
Iris spent a second night in the chair. The doctor hadn’t prepared her for how hard Monday would be on Scott. And, in a much less brutal fashion, on her as well. Watching him hurt, seeing his face creased in pain even in his sleep, worrying about his lack of appetite, missing his repartee even…all hit unexpectedly hard.
Sage had suggested that her brother should see how his obstinate refusal to medicate properly, or to stay in the hospital, was making it hard on those around him. Had been ready to tell him so herself, but Iris had let her know that she wished she wouldn’t.
In the first place, after calling someone from his office from the hospital to let them know what was going on, Scott had turned his phone off until he could speak coherently. Sage’s calls weren’t going through.
And in the second, Iris was bearing the brunt of the burden of caring for Scott, and she was not going to be the reason he failed in his own eyes.
Besides, it wasn’t like she couldn’t leave if she wanted to. Harper was right there, perched on the edge of Scott’s porch it seemed like to Iris, ready to jump in and help. The woman was kind. Genuinely helpful.
