Page 57 of Smooth Moves
Chapter 11
An hour and a half later, Jordan felt torn. She sat in Cash’s living room, waiting while he cleaned up and changed into something comfortable. As she’d suspected, the doctor at the clinic had determined he had a concussion. Since he seemed coherent and hadn’t slurred any words or acted in any way incapacitated, they’d sent him home on the condition someone look after him.
He’d filled her in on the confrontation with the bullies at the gym. Once again, Cash had taken care to protect someone and gotten hurt because of it. How could she fault him for doing the right thing?
She couldn’t. Truthfully, she felt so proud of him. Which was stupid. He wasn’t hers, yet she wanted to hug him and take care of him all the same.
And thinking of hers… She called her brother to check in. “Sorry it’s late. I’ll be home in a little bit. I took Cash to the clinic, and like we suspected, he has a concussion. I’ll stay with him until his brother gets back. You good?”
“I’m not a baby.” Rafael didn’t sound surly tonight. Thank God. Just his usual snarky self. “Glad Cash isn’t going to get any more stupid than he already is. Big guy needs all those brain cells.”
“Rafi.” She laughed. “Not nice.”
He chuckled. “He’s not so bad for a Marine, I guess. I think he likes you.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Whatever. You’re taking care of him at eleven on a weeknight. At his house. That’s not exactly in your job description, is it?”
“Shut up.”
A snicker. “Just don’t do too much ‘overtime,’ if you get my meaning.”
“Rafael Younger, you’re not too big to spank.”
He laughed some more. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me when you get in.Ifyou get in.” He hung up. The punk.
She smiled, relieved that he seemed to be acting like the old Rafael again. They could come and go, his moods. But at least tonight he sounded upbeat. Probably because they had the day off tomorrow and would be going to their parents’ for a Fourth of July picnic. With any luck, her folks would do their best to make it a nice day and not jump on her brother’s case. Of course, if Leanne came, Jordan would be the one struggling to deal with an attitude.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight she had a cranky Marine to deal with. A glance around his house showed he had nice taste, a surprise she’d attribute to Reid. She just couldn’t see Cash picking colored throw pillows and accented floral prints on the walls. The furniture was comfortable, a brown-leather couch and matching side chairs centered around an oak table, all facing a large-screen TV mounted to the wall over a stone fireplace. A side table and mirror stood sentry in the hallway just inside the entrance. Farther in, a large space had been designated the dining area with a Craftsman-style table and four chairs.
The place was homey, comfy, and tastefully decorated with cream-colored walls, honey-blond built-ins on either side of the fireplace, and a darker hardwood floor. The kitchen, newly renovated with stainless-steel appliances and a black-quartz counter that also covered the center kitchen island, had invited her to take a closer look—which she’d done while he was dressing. The cabinets had the same light-colored finish as the built-ins in the living room.
Overall, the house had a polished finish she envied. It also didn’t seem to fit Cash at all. Reid, sure. But not the hulking Marine addicted to reality TV, beer, and “chicks who dig muscle.”
Shuffling drew her attention to the lumbering slab of injured male entering the living area. She turned her head to say something smart and gaped instead. Cash wore a pair of loose gray jersey pants and carried a T-shirt with him. He yawned and put it on as he neared, but the sight of his half-naked body stole her ability to think. That he didn’t appear to be trying to impress her made it worse. God, the man wasBuilt.With a capital B.
“Thanks again, Jordan.” His gruff, deep voice had her taking a second look. A stubbled jaw and tousled hair added to his tired appearance but didn’t detract a bit from his sex appeal. If anything, it made it worse because he looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed.Good Lord, stop thinking about his bed!
“How’s the head?” she asked when she could form words again.
With care, he touched the side where he’d been hit. “Sore but otherwise fine. It was a superficial cut that bled a lot. Like I said, he rang my bell. But I’ll be okay. You should go home to Rafi.”
She nodded and rose from the couch, stepping toward him. “I will. First, sit down and let me look at you.”
He sat on a stool in the kitchen, and she approached him, now at eye level with the man. She looked at his head and saw a still-oozing cut on his scalp under his hair. “They put a sealer on it?”
“Yeah. The cut wasn’t deep enough for major stitches.”
So close, she felt his body heat surround her. She stroked the hair around the cut, taken by his softness. “Good. I bet it hurts though.” She spoke in a soft voice, petting him, offering what little comfort she could.
“Yeah,” he responded in a tone as quiet. “Feels better now.”
“You took some ibuprofen?” He’d mentioned he had some at home and hadn’t needed any medication from the clinic. Not that she could blame him at ten bucks a bottle.
“Yeah. But I feel better because of you. You help just by being here.” A whisper of a confession.
He wouldn’t look at her, and in that moment, he just seemed so alone. Reid obviously wasn’t at home, not that Cash had wanted her to call him. Cash had no one to take care of him.
