Torch (Take It Off) (4 page)

Holt shot up from his seated position and paced over to the window. Both hands were fisted at his sides.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. How did you ask a doctor if someone raped you?

The doctor cleared his throat. “As far as I could tell, you were not raped, Miss Parks.”

I expelled a breath, relief making me weak. “I don’t understand,” I murmured.

“The drug is fairly common, easy to get ahold of. It can render the victim unconscious and can also strip away memories—Miss Parks, did you knowingly ingest GHB?”

“No!” I demanded. That was absolutely ridiculous.

The doctor nodded. “I thought as much, but I had to ask. Did you go out to, say, a bar the night before the fire?”

I laughed. “No. I don’t go to bars. I didn’t go anywhere when I got home from work.”

“Where do you work? Is it likely that someone could have slipped it into your drink in your office?”

“I work in a library. I’m a librarian. So no, it’s very unlikely.”

“I see. Well, I had to inform the police of the toxicology screen. They will likely have questions. The drug is out of your system and there seems to be no ill effects from ingesting it. I can have your release papers ready this evening. Who will you be staying with?”

Why did they all keep asking me this? “I’ll be staying by myself.”

The doctor seemed to balk at that. “Perhaps a few more days here,” he began.

“That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m afraid I cannot in good conscience let you leave here alone.”

“She won’t be alone,” came his voice by the window.

Both the doctor and I looked his way as Holt turned, spearing me with those light eyes. “She can stay with me.”

“Absolutely not,” I protested, my skin flushing at just the thought.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You need someone to help you,” the doctor lectured.

I didn’t need help. Not from anyone. I was very good at taking care of myself. I told them both that. What a bunch of Neanderthals.

“I’m afraid if you want to leave this evening, it will have to be on the condition that you not be alone. Otherwise, you can stay here and I will discharge you at the beginning of the week.”

Shit. I really didn’t want to be here any longer than I had to. Plus, I had to call the insurance company, go back to work, and start looking for another place to live.

“How do you know you aren’t releasing me to some crazy person?” I asked the doctor.

He chuckled. “Miss Parks, I have known Mr. Arkain here for several years. He has an impeccable reputation in the community.”

I glanced at Mr. Impeccable. “So you take girls home from the hospital often, then?” Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy slithered up my spine.

A slow grin spread over his features. “Nope. You’re my first.”

The doctor seemed to think this was a done deal and excused himself, promising to return later with my release papers.

Holt strolled over to my bedside, standing over me, staring down.

“I don’t like it when people loom over me,” I snapped.

“I’m not looming.”

“I’m not going home with you.”

He smiled.

If my hands weren’t burned, I would punch him.

He leaned down close, his breath fanning out over my cheek. “Don’t worry, Katie. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

Before I could react, he was pulling open the door and glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll be back tonight to get you.”

I had two realizations once he was gone:

One, I hadn’t thought about the pain at all when he talked to me.

4

The nurses were gossiping about me. Or maybe it was Holt they were in a little frenzy over. Either way, I became the main attraction for several bored nurses. They kept coming into my room, making a fuss over me, and saying how lucky I was that Holt was watching out for me.

It was like I was a stray kitten that someone found on the side of the road that somehow ended up in a wonderful home.

I didn’t really want all the attention, but I did use it to my advantage (like you wouldn’t), and one of the nurses washed my face and hair, going as far as finding a blow dryer and drying it into a long, straight style. It took her forever because my hair was so thick and long, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she kind of liked it. She said it got her out of emptying bedpans.

By the time my hair was done, I was tired, the pain meds were wearing off again, and I just wanted to go to sleep to escape reality for a little while. As I lay there in the quiet of my room, my mind kept wandering to Holt.

Part of me didn’t think he would come back. The other part of me kept looking at the door, waiting for him. For a girl who learned early in life not to depend on anyone, I sure was acting like I was thinking about depending on him.

I didn’t know what possessed him to announce that he was taking me home. He had to know I wasn’t going anywhere with him. Still, I was going to let the doctors think I was because it was my fastest way out of here.

I’m just part of his job,
I reminded myself.
The only reason he’s been coming here is because he’s a firefighter—a man who cares about the wellbeing of others.

I fell asleep for what could have been hours or minutes and was awakened by the soft weight of something settling on the end of the bed.

It was a bag. A shopping bag with the mall’s logo on the side. I yawned and sat up a little straighter, eyeing the bag.

“I thought you might want something to wear that didn’t smell like smoke and had a little more… coverage.”

I remembered the boxers I was wearing when he pulled me out of the house and blushed. I divided my glance between the bag and the man who brought it. He must never shave. Either that or he was secretly a werewolf who grew facial hair at the speed of light. “You brought me clothes?”

“It’s just a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I didn’t know what size you wear, so I had to guess.”

He brought me clothes. It was a small gesture, but it proved that he thought about me even after he left this room. “Thank you.” I smiled. “I really wasn’t looking forward to putting on those smelly boxers.”

He grinned. “The nurses out in the hallway said you were all ready to go.”

I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the bed. “Yes, the doctor cleared me to leave. I’ll just get dressed and then we can go.”

His warm hand wrapped around my upper arm and I climbed out of the bed. “Feeling okay?” The deep timber of his voice made tiny shivers race over my nerve endings.

I could only nod, not trusting my voice when he was this close to me. Thankfully, he released my arm and reached into the bag to pull out a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. “Like I said, it’s pretty basic stuff.”

“It’s perfect,” I replied, looking over the soft-looking materials. I don’t know why, but emotion clogged my throat. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done anything for me. I hadn’t even gotten a gift in years. And even though the clothes were necessities and not really a gift, I doubted he would ever know how much it meant to me.

I cleared my throat and looked up at him. “I’ll just get dressed and meet you in the hall.”

He nodded. “I’ll have the nurse ready your chariot.”

“My chariot?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I thought that sounded better than wheelchair.”

I grinned. “Totally better.”

Getting dressed proved more difficult than I imagined. My body was stiff and sore. My muscles groaned at just about every move I made, and the bruise on my shoulder screamed at me that it wasn’t nearly healed enough to lift my arms and put on a T-shirt.

I tossed down the white cotton and picked up the jeans. Propping myself against the bed, I very slowly stuffed my feet into the pants. Every time the rough material brushed against the sensitive skin of my hands, I winced, but I continued on. I wasn’t about to board my chariot with my bum flapping in the wind.

I must have taken a lot longer than I thought because Holt came back through the door a few minutes later. He stopped short when he saw me still not dressed and standing beside the bed.

“I seem to be having some trouble,” I admitted.

He strode into the room, his boots moving soundlessly over the cold tile floor. “I should have gotten something easier to put on. I didn’t think about the use of your hands being so limited.”

I snorted. “Are you kidding? You don’t even have to be here right now. This isn’t your fault.”

He kneeled down in front of me, gently brushing away my arms and grasping the jeans by the waist. He moved slow, inching the jeans up my legs. When they brushed my thighs, he rose upward, his face slowly sliding up the front of me until they met mine. My body jerked slightly when his knuckles brushed against the smooth silkiness of my thigh.

“Sorry,” he rasped, his voice a rough whisper as he continued to tug the fabric up around my waist. The jeans were low riders, the waistband skimming my hipbones and dipping below my belly button.

His nimble fingers slid along the top edge, brushing against the fabric and my flat stomach (which was jumping with excitement) until he stopped in the center, just inches above the most feminine place on my body, and gently fastened the button. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and his eyes seemed heavy-lidded when he reached for the zipper and slowly, achingly slid it upward.

My knees actually started to shake.

What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t even act like this when I discovered that boys existed and didn’t actually have cooties like I thought. I didn’t even act like this when the most popular guy in school smiled at me from across the hallway and winked before turning around to hang with his buddies.

Of course, I wasn’t fifteen now. And the man standing before me, the man with his touch lingering on my stomach, was not a boy. He was all man. A living, breathing total package.

When his pointer finger trailed toward my belly button, I jumped and stepped back. I was so close to the bed that my legs folded and I ended up falling onto the mattress. My shoulder screamed in protest, and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.

“I—uh…” he said, stumbling over his words, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

I pushed up onto one elbow. “Sorry for feeling me up?” I finished for him.

He grinned. “That wasn’t feeling you up. When I feel you up, you’ll know it.”

When
he feels me up…

I didn’t know what to make of that statement, so I stuck my foot in his face. “I need my shoes.”

He yanked off the tags from a pair black flip-flops. In the center of the straps was a cluster of sparkly gems. They were pretty, and he slid them onto my feet.

He picked up my shirt and looked at me.

I wasn’t wearing a bra.

After my reaction to him pulling my pants up underneath my hospital gown, I was positive if I took off this gown I would embarrass myself. Besides, I didn’t know him. I wasn’t about to go
Girls Gone Wild
and flash him.

“I’ll just wear this.”

He frowned. “Are you in that much pain?”

I shook my head. “I’m just sore from lying in this bed for so long. And my shoulder is a little banged up from falling.”

“You fell?”

I nodded. “In the chair. I was trying to stand and I knocked myself over.”

His eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds. “I wish I had gotten there sooner.”

Something inside me softened at the regret in his tone. “I think your timing was perfect.” I stood up and gave him a playful shove backward. “But I could have done without being thrown in the pool.”

“You sank really fast.”

“Ha-ha.” I gathered up my items, which consisted of my ruined pajamas and the shirt he brought me, shoved it all in the bag he brought, and then headed to the door. I tried to ignore the draft at my back and the way the oversized gown flapped in the wind.

He made a sound in the back of his throat and I turned, looking over my shoulder at him. “What?”

He was stripping off the slate-colored button-up he was wearing over a navy-blue T-shirt with the letters WFD (Wilmington Fire Department) on the front. “You can’t wear that.”

“I’m covered,” I protested.

“Barely,” he muttered and came closer, holding the button-up out like it was a coat and we were at some fancy event where the gentleman always helped the ladies with their evening attire.

He held it low enough that I was able to just slip both my arms inside, successfully managing not to bump my bandaged wrists, and then he slipped it up around me, his hands not touching me once.

Thankfully.

Okay, I was a little disappointed. It seemed my body liked his touch. In fact, my body practically hummed whenever he was around. It was beyond strange.

He made short work of the buttons, closing the shirt up around me in record time (making me think he purposefully took forever on that
one
button on my jeans), and then stepped back to admire his work.

The shirt hung to my knees.

He smirked. “You are tiny.”

I stuck out my tongue at him. “You’re just huge.”

He winked.

Heat flooded my cheeks because suddenly commenting on his size took on a whole new meaning.

Thankfully, the nurse pushed open the door and wheeled in my ride. I sank down into the wheelchair and positioned all my belongings in my lap, taking a moment to mourn the fact that everything I owned fit in a single shopping bag.

Down at the entrance of the hospital, Holt disappeared for a few minutes only to return in a truck that I was pretty sure I would need a ladder to get into.

It was huge. It was also cherry-red with not one spec of dirt on it. The rims on the giant tires were chrome, and I actually caught a reflection of myself in the front tire. The side of the truck said HEMI and by the sound of it, it had two mufflers on the back.