When Dr. Anthrax—the name she’d given him because her muzzy head couldn’t remember his actual name, but she thought it was close—had asked if he could step out to give her fiancé instructions before she was released, she’d thought maybe she’d been hurt worse than they’d told her because a huge chunk of her memory was gone, but when she’d looked confused the doctor had described this mythical beast as “this tall,” raising his hand well above his own head, with shoulders “this wide”—it clicked. Preacher.
He was here, waiting for the doctor to tell him all the dos and don’ts, blah-blah-blah, she’d already forgotten. The only thing she cared about was her next dose of pain reliever and the pill the doctor had promised would help with her nausea.
Thank goodness Preacher was here because her car was all the way back in Dead Horse, and one instruction that had stuck was that she wasn’t to drive for at least a week.
The curtain swished, and Preacher walked into the suddenly tiny space, sucking up all the oxygen, which explained her sudden breathlessness. The man looked a little frantic until his gaze met hers, and then his shoulders relaxed and he suddenly smiled.
She returned the smile, feeling relieved to see a familiar face when she’d awoken surrounded by strangers and embarrassed by her predicament. After all, she had a huge goose egg on her head, and a chunk of hair missing under her bandage where they’d shaved part of her scalp to give her a couple of stitches. Not that he could see it, but how embarrassing was it that she’d managed to fall and hit her head like an idiot?
“Hey there,” he said, his voice sounding a little raspy.
“They’re cutting me loose,” she said, wincing a bit at speaking because it felt like her voice was bouncing around inside her head.
“The doctor gave me instructions I have to follow.”
“Good thing,” she said in a smaller voice, “because I can’t remember a thing he said except that I can’t drive for a week.”
“We have to make a stop at a pharmacy before we head back home.”
She started to frown then stopped because the movement felt like it was pulling on her stiches. “I don’t have my purse. How will we get into my house?”
“Your purse is in my car.”
“You thought of everything. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I have orders to make sure you rest for a week.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll probably get pretty grumpy,” she admitted.
“No worries. I’m pretty tough. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
She chuckled then groaned.
“You’re not supposed to work that brain of yours. Just rest until the nurse comes with your meds. Do you remember anything about what happened?”
She shook her head. “The doctor asked me, but I don’t remember hitting my head. Last thing I do recall was mopping the shop floor. I was hurrying.”
“You don’t remember seeing anyone around?”
“No, why?” The doctor had looked at her oddly when she’d said that, too.
“No reason,” Preacher muttered. “We’ll sort everything out later when you’re feeling better.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes because her head swam for a second and her stomach roiled. “You taking me home?” she asked, not opening her eyes.
“I am.”
“S’good. Don’t think I could make the drive.”
His big, warm hand closed around hers.
She smiled and drifted off.
* * *
She stirred when she heard the turn signal ping. She tried to pull herself upright but didn’t have the energy. Preacher had set her in the front seat of his SUV then lowered the back of her seat so that she was practically lying down for the trip back to Dead Horse.
“We’re home,” he said beside her. “Let me stop then I’ll help you up.”
“I have a bump on my head. I’m not helpless.”
Preacher grunted but didn’t otherwise respond. Something that annoyed her, but she realized she was entering the grumpy state she’d warned him about.
The car halted. Preacher let himself out of the vehicle. The car door thumped, and she winced at the sound. She heard him call out to someone, and again, she tried to pull herself up to see who the hell was at her house, but before she managed, her door opened.
Preacher bent into the opening, unbuckled her seatbelt, then lifted her into his arms.
“I can walk. It’s just a concussion. I didn’t crack my skull.”
“I know. But the doctor said to rest. So, relax. I’ve got you.”
“This is silly. The nurse even let me go to the bathroom by myself.”
“While she held you up to keep you from falling.”
She pulled back her head to glare at him. “Don’t you get any ideas…”
His mouth twitched, but he was looking forward.
“I’ll get the door,” a deep voice said.
“How can he get the door? He needs a key,” she grumbled.
“No, he doesn’t,” Preacher drawled.
Turning her head slowly so she didn’t get dizzy, she saw that Cage Morgan was opening her front door—without a key. Had she forgotten to lock her front door? And second question, what the hell was he doing here?
Before she could ask Preacher what was going on, he carried her across the threshold and headed straight for the hallway to her bedroom. The smell of food cooking—chicken, she was pretty sure, wafted all around her. Despite her slight nausea, she realized she was hungry. When she glanced toward the kitchen, she saw a woman standing in the doorway. She was tall with long dark hair, stunning really, and very pregnant. Cage’s wife, Elaine, she knew because they’d come for sandwiches one afternoon and Elaine had introduced herself.
Again, she wondered what was happening. She’d bumped her head. She had to rest. Dropping off a casserole would be fine, but she was pretty sure the woman had taken over her kitchen to cook in the late-night hours.
Elaine gave her a little wave, and Laura forced a smile and lifted her hand, but Preacher was already moving into the hallway, cutting off her view of who else might be about. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having her private space invaded by so many strangers when she felt like hell.
Preacher stood beside the bed, still holding her, and she watched with more than a little bemusement as Cage pulled back her coverlet and sheet and plumped her pillows. Then her guy lowered her to the mattress. The second her head sank into her soft pillow, she moaned. It felt so good.
She barely noticed him taking off her shoes and sliding her legs under the covers. A hand caressed her cheek. She blinked open her eyes.
“Baby, rest. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
With a vague nod, she closed her eyes again. He was so nice. They all were. She wasn’t sure what Cage and Elaine were doing here; maybe Preacher had enlisted them in an overabundance of caution, but she’d be fine. The doctor had no doubt told Preacher what to look out for. She was too tired to worry. She had a headache. Her shoulder ached. The nausea was dissipating. Her mind zipped to the shop, and she wondered what was going to happen there. Whether Katie would open it by herself or simply put up a sign to tell her customers they were closed. Didn’t matter. She was so dang tired.