He looks at me for several moments, and I start to worry that there’s something seriously wrong with him. After a while, he shakes his head and picks up the phone to order his breakfast. Turning, I face the computer hanging on the wall and login to check his medication schedule. I have a hard time concentrating on the information on the screen while his deep voice rumbles behind me. I hear the click of the phone and realize I’m staring blankly at the monitor in front of me. Telling myself to stop acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush on a hot guy, I hastily verify that I’m giving him the correct medication. I hand him the pills in a small cup and grab his hospital mug of water for him. After he takes them, I smile and attempt to escape again. “Your breakfast should be coming soon. Please let me know if I can do anything else for you.” I point at the dry-erase board hanging on the wall under the television. “I wrote my number on the board.” I need to get out of this room and figure out what in the world is happening to me.
Chapter Two
Drake
I overheard one of the nurses call me a cold-hearted bastard and shrugged off the insult. Who cares what the useless assholes in this hellhole think anyway? Pain shoots through every inch of my body, and I come instantly awake. Last night’s moron forgot to give me my pain medication before she left this morning, and I’m hurting everywhere. This hospital owes me a decent nurse after sending in every half-witted twit in the county to take care of me over the last three days.
She walks in, and I think to myself either the fucking doctors are wrong and I really do have a brain injury or I’m in love. This gorgeous, curvy girl steals my heart right out of my chest. I never realized the next nurse to walk through my hospital door would be my fucking soulmate. Too bad I act like a dick and send her running. After she rushes out, the pain medication starts to kick in, and I close my eyes. The next thing I know, there’s a knock at the door. “Room service.”
This freaking place tries to make their disgustingly bland food more palatable by delivering it to the hospital rooms by waiters. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but their plan is failing. I look down and make sure the covers are hiding all my necessary parts, then call out, “Come in.”
As a young, high school-aged girl brings my tray in and sets it on the bedside table, disappointment roars through me. I’d hoped for another peek at my beautiful angel. An idea hits me. “Could you send my nurse in on your way out?” I ask her. She nods and nearly trips in her haste to get out the door.
A few minutes later, there’s another knock at the door, and I smile to myself until I realize I don’t have an excuse for asking for her. Fuck. I tell her to come in and frantically attempt to think of a reason for calling her in. “After breakfast, I’d like a shower.”
She blinks several times without answering, and the implications of my request hit me right between the eyes. This gorgeous angel is going to help me strip and climb into the tiny shower enclosure. What could go wrong? “I’ll, uh, get fresh linens and towels,” she stutters adorably, and I hope it means I’m affecting her, too.
“Thanks, I’ll hurry up and eat.” After she rushes from the room, I shovel down my breakfast without tasting a bite. This girl has taken over all my thoughts, and I don’t intend to fight my feelings. It would be pointless.
She returns a few minutes later with her arms full of linens and smiles at me. “I’ll put these on the chair. Just call me when you’re finished, and we’ll get you into the shower.” Her voice squeaks on the last word, and I wonder if she’s having the same dirty thoughts as I am.
Before she can rush out the door, I stop her. “I’m ready to shower now.” Pushing the bedside table away, I grimace. “I’ve eaten all the hospital food I can tolerate at one time.”
As she turns and glances at me over her shoulder, she bites her bottom lip. There’s a slight tremor in her hands and tiny drops of sweat near her hairline, confirming my earlier suspicion. Little Ms. Professional feels this intense attraction, too. “Oh. Well, let’s get this over with then.” She sighs and grabs the linens. “Are you able to stand on your own?”
There’s no way I’m allowing this girl to see me crawl to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I ignore the excruciating pain shooting through every nerve ending in my body and slide my legs over the side of the bed. After swallowing down the nausea boiling up the back of my throat, I hold still to allow the room to come into focus before I attempt to move.
“Uh, yeah.” She grimaces. “I need to call for help.” I want to assure her we can do this, but I’m going to lose my breakfast if I open my mouth. She pulls a phone off her waistband, and I hear her talking sweetly, “Tim, could you assist me in Mr. Baron’s room?”
After several deep breaths, the room stops spinning. I need that shower more than ever now since I’m covered in sweat from head to toe. From sitting up. Fuck my life.
A huge, linebacker wannabe walks in and grumbles, “You needed help?”
My girl smiles and turns to him. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Tim. Mr. Baron can’t get up without assistance.” The sight of her sweet smile shining brightly for another man sends anger shooting throughout my entire body. The urge to smash his face is overpowering. Unfortunately, my damaged body isn’t capable of fulfilling the task.
The shower turns into an exercise in torture. Tim the linebacker is a total dickhead when Phoebe isn’t paying attention. Not wanting to look like a pussy in front of my girl, I hold my tongue. At some point in the future, I’m going to discuss my complaints with the big asshole. After my shower, I grab the towel hanging on the rack and dry off, then lean against the cool wall to collect myself. Tim the dickhead disappeared to “grab something” a few minutes ago and must’ve gotten lost. Oh, well. It’s probably for the best.
Fed up with waiting for him and his rough treatment to return, I decide to dress myself. I’m grateful to the dumbass for leaving my outfit on the bathroom counter. It takes a couple of tries, but I’m able to slip on the torture device hospital pants. Fuck. I’m sweating again. After hobbling to the bed, I drop across it and leave my legs laying over the side. “Here, let me help you with that.” She leans close, and her soft, delicate scent wraps around me. Now, I’m perspiring for a whole new reason. “Why didn’t you wait for help?” As she attempts to look fierce, the urge to kiss her pouty lips runs through me.
“The help was killing me,” I grumble under my breath. She laughs and raises an eyebrow while lifting my legs onto the bed and pulling the covers over me.
“Tim can be a little rough.” She sighs and looks over her shoulder to make sure no one can hear her. “Sorry about that.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” As she stares into my eyes, I forget about everything else. Fuck. I’m losing my mind for this girl. “Thanks for your help,” I manage to mumble.
“Sure.” She pats my arm, and all the blood in my battered body heads straight to my cock. Well, at least it didn’t sustain damage. I pull the bedside tray over my lap to hide the bulge that’s steadily growing under the covers as she smiles down at me. The shower exhausted me more than I realized, and I nod off while she’s straightening up my room. I end up sleeping through the rest of the morning and afternoon. When I finally wake up, it’s time for my torture—I mean, physical therapy session. When I’m finished, the dayshift is coming to an end. Fuck. My girl is leaving.