Bound by Trust (5 page)

“Ten
bucks says she comes back with his number,” Madi spouted.

“And
he probably won’t even need to use a club on her.” Rafe took a seat in the hard
green plastic chair beside the bed and grinned at her.

“Very
funny.”

They
sat in silence for a while with Madi drumming her fingers on the silver metal
railings they had put up on either side of her. What did they think, she would
try to escape, or she was so far gone she might fall out of the bed on top of
everything else?

“Madi,
calm down.” Rafe reached out and took one of her hands.

“I
am calm.” For some reason she didn’t pull away from him. “I’m just tired of
being here and I have a killer headache and they won’t give me anything for it
yet.”

Rafe
left the chair and stood at the side of the bed. Leaning on the railing, he looked
into her eyes. “I am really sorry.”

“As
long as I don’t have to stay here, I forgive you. I don’t have time to be sick;
I have too much to do.”

“What
were you trying to do with the piano anyway?” He held her hand with one of his
and stroked her arm with the other.

“I
needed to move it. You and my mother and sister drove me to distraction this
afternoon. I should have moved it before I started sanding, but for lack of
sense, I didn’t.” She laid her head back and rubbed her forehead.

“Well,
why didn’t you wait until I got home? I would have helped you.”

“Look,
I have told you, I don’t need help.” Her voice raised to a pitch that could be
heard beyond the thin veil separating her from the rest of the patients. She
snatched her arm away from him. “And I don’t have time to wait, even if I did
need help; I need to get my music room together, so I can start taking students.”

“Why
do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Why
do you?”

Outside
the curtain Dr. Stevens and Julia were huddled together listening.

“How
long have they been dating?” Dr. Stevens looked at Julia.

“They
aren’t.”

“Oh.”
He shook his head and drew the curtain back. “So, the x-rays showed no
indication of a fracture. I’m sure you have a mild concussion, but I’m going to
let you go home as long as there is someone competent to stay with you. You
need to be awakened every few hours throughout the night to make sure you’re
still making sense.”

“Mama?”

“Oh,
no, dear, I’m busy tonight. Carl and I are going for drinks after his shift is
over.” Julia patted the doctor’s arm.

“What
did I tell you?” Madi rolled her eyes at Rafe. “Well, call Meredith.”

“She’s
busy too.” Julia turned to Rafe. “You can stay with her, can’t you?”

“You
cannot be serious.” Madi pushed herself up and took the ice off her head. “He’s
not competent; he’s the one who put me here to begin with.”

“Well,
young lady, either he stays with you, or you stay here for the night.” Dr.
Stevens again wrote on her chart.

She
glared at Rafe. “Don’t think this means you’ve won anything with your club-wielding
attitude. And don’t try anything sneaky while I’m incapacitated.” Defeated, she
knew this was one time she was going to have to take his help.

Dr.
Stevens grinned as he finished scribbling on his prescription pad and handed
the sheet to Rafe. “Pick this up for her downstairs. It isn’t something you
have to sign for so there won’t be a problem. Madi, you can take that every
four hours for the headache. If you don’t get better by morning come back, and
take it easy for a few days. No more climbing under pianos and sanding walls
for a while.”

Forty-five
minutes later, when they were on their way home, Rafe realized he’d left the
groceries on the porch. Steaks were now out of the question. With Madi having
hardly touched her lunch at the deli, she was probably starved. He knew he was.

“So,
what would you like to eat?” he asked, turning right out of the hospital
parking lot.

“I’m
not hungry.” She tucked her arms across her belly and stared out the window.

Rafe
took a deep breath. “You’re insufferable, you know that? I think you should eat
something before you take your pills.”

She
feigned her best melodramatic soap opera heroine voice. “Yes, Dr. McCarthy. I
suppose you’re right. The military’s acetaminophen cure could be too harsh on
my innards.”

Rafe
shook his head and snickered. “So, name it, I’m buying.”

She
suddenly realized her stomach was growling and she did want to eat. “Do you
like Chinese? I haven’t had chicken mei fun in a long time, and I want some
steamed dumplings…and get some of those little donut things with the sugar on
them.”

“Now,
was that so difficult?”

After
a quick stop at Sing Lei’s, Rafe went to the video store. If he was going to
have to stay up all night, he might as well have something good to watch. Madi
hadn’t put in a satellite, and cable didn’t reach as far out as they lived.

“Do
you have a preference?” he asked before getting out.

“No
war movies or love stories. The human condition is overrated. Other than that,
I’ll watch anything.” She was munching on one of the donuts with sugar crystals
shining all over her lips.

Rafe
determined she was going to inadvertently make this as difficult as possible.
He could plainly see she was unaware as to what her cuteness was doing to him
and, really wanting to avoid making her angry again, he stuffed the thought of
licking the sugar from her lips in the bad idea bin in the back of his mind.
Holding out hope they could somehow manage to get along, he selfishly wondered
if her little accident could possibly serve as the catalyst he needed, to make her
see they could have more than a one-night stand and make it work.

“So,
you’ll do scary?”

“The
bloodier the better. I like vamps, werewolves, and all things that go bump in
the night.”

“Hmph.
My kind of girl.”

“Keep
in mind, this isn’t a date, it’s a situation born of necessity. I won’t be
clutching your arm in the dark, or anything.” She scowled to reinforce her
point.

Maybe not tonight, but
someday.

Armed
with six horror movies, a few buckets of microwave popcorn, and a few packages
of red licorice, Rafe returned to the truck to find Madi resting her head on
the door.

“You
okay over there?”

“Yes,
I’m just getting tired.”

“Well,
let’s get you home then.”

After
setting her up on the couch with Neowolf playing, and her little white
container of noodles, he went over to clean up the mess he’d left on the porch
and feed his horses. He hurried through the task, not wanting to leave her
alone too long, but by the time he got back, the movie was still playing, the
carton of noodles was empty, and she was lying on her stomach on the couch with
her eyes shut.

The
only problem Rafe had for the next three hours was trying to keep up with the
slasher movie he was trying to watch. Having become a constant preoccupation,
Madi was getting more of his attention than the television was. He’d come to
the stark reality that he wanted something more from her than just straight-up
sex, although he wasn’t even sure what that was, or what it meant. He’d never
really looked beyond the physical with women before and knew he was waist-deep
in uncharted waters.

Meredith
had given him her abbreviated life history in between sandwiches and desert.
Some of it he knew from CeCe chattering about her constantly, but what he
didn’t know was that Madi held a Master’s Degree in music and taught piano and
violin. She also played several other instruments. That explained the smattering
of eighth and quarter notes on her back. She liked every kind of music
possible, but was particularly fond of alternative rock and pop as far as
mainstream was concerned. She also loved jazz and, of course, classical. Not
particularly fond of TV, she loved those smutty love novels. At one time she’d
owned a thoroughbred racing stallion named Casanova, which she’d been forced to
forfeit to the breeder he came from, because of the financial mess Gage had
left her in. He’d also learned that ten years ago she was the queen of the
dance floor in clubs all over Clarksville and Hopkinsville until Gage put a
stop to her going. The dancing part he knew to be true firsthand. If she hadn’t
been so damn good at it, they might not have this awkward situation to deal
with now.

At
midnight, he decided it was time to see if she was still making sense, as Dr.
Stevens had put it. He sat on the coffee table in front of her and leaned down
to whisper. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her again.

“Madi?”
He gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, you need to get up now, honey.”

She
pulled her arm up and rubbed one eye. “I heard what you called me.”

“Well,
that’s a relief, your concussion hasn’t affected your hearing.” It took all his
strength not to reach out and run the back of his fingers along her cheek.

“What
was that? Your conduction affected your steering?”

“Okay,
smarty pants, so, tell me who you are.”

“Why
sir, I’m Betty Boop, and you are Popeye. Arghh—ha-ha-ha-ha.” She opened both
eyes and started to get up.

Rafe
couldn’t help laughing at her as he took her arm and helped her sit up. “You
know you’re pretty funny when you aren’t pissed off.”

“And
you aren’t so bad yourself when you aren’t allowing the compass between your
legs to steer the way.”

Leaving
the couch, she wandered down the hallway and, after a few minutes, Rafe heard
water running. She came back clean, dressed in a pair of baggy shorts and a
t-shirt, and toting a pillow and a blanket. Laying the pillow against his leg,
she plopped down and curled up under the blanket. Soon her breath was coming
out in short bursts again, tickling the arm he dared to wrap around her after
she dozed off.

She
woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh brewed coffee mingled with bacon
and eggs. The coffee table was void of any evidence of their Chinese buffet
from the night before and the movies were all stacked neatly on top of the
entertainment center. And, her piano was parked behind the loveseat, facing the
window. Her head had quit hurting, but it was still wickedly sore. After sitting
for a moment, making sure she didn’t feel dizzy or sick, she wandered around
the house until she located Rafe in the music room. He was intently spreading a
coat of primer on one wall.

“What
are you doing?”

“Helping.
You need this done, and I need to make up for causing you bodily harm, so don’t
argue.”

“Okay.”
She shrugged her shoulders and rubbed the end of her nose.

Shocked
at her compliance, he stopped painting and looked at her. The dark circles had
eased a bit and her hair was sticking straight up on one side. He wondered if
she looked so adorable every morning, and if, after a passionate night of
making love, she looked any different. If she hadn’t bolted on him, he would
already know.

“How
do you feel?”

“I
feel okay; my head’s sore, but no headache, no dizziness, no queasy stomach.”

“That’s
good.” He went back to painting. “If you’re hungry I left you something in the
kitchen.”

*
* * *

The
bacon and eggs she’d smelled were waiting on the stove. He was neat and tidy,
he was painting for her, and he could cook. If she could find it in herself to
trust a man he might make a good boyfriend, but she couldn’t. As long as they
didn’t have sex again, what could it hurt to at least allow him to help? He
could have taken advantage of the situation last night and didn’t, and it was
nice to be able to sleep for a change. Maybe she could let him in just an inch
or two.

*
* * *

Even
though she didn’t need the constant vigil of being awakened, and asked
repeatedly if she knew who she was and what was the current year, Rafe had
insisted on staying with her another night. He took up residence on her couch
and shooed her off to bed at a more than decent hour. She didn’t know whether
to take his kindness as a sign they could somehow get past what had happened
and manage to be friends, or if he was still volleying for the position as her
personal plaything. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for the presence of
another person in the next room as she lay wide-eyed awake listening to the
violent cacophony of a quickly approaching storm. The thunder was so close she
could feel the vibration of each rumble shimmying up the bedframe and across
the mattress, and the lightning cracks set the tiny hairs on her arms on end.
She’d never been fond of storms and this one was spinning up into a doozy
quickly. Trying to block out the intense flashes of light and deafening bass
crashes, she pulled the sheet over her head and curled into a tight ball with
her eyes squeezed shut.

Humming
the opening bars of
Music of the Night
,
she heard the wind pick up, howling around the house as if trying to find a way
in. The whistling was unnerving and unease circled her, reminiscent of her
childhood experiences with spring tornadoes. It was late in the season, but not
impossible for one to fall from the sky and wreak havoc. Then, with a thunder
clap that felt as though it were right on top of the house, rain started
falling in torrents, sounding like water rushing through the flood gates at the
dam.