As if conjured by his thoughts, his phone began to ring and her name flashed across the screen. Hitting answer, Nash paused on his own front porch to look out across the long expanse of acreage toward Robert’s place. “I was just about to call you.”
There was a beat of hesitation. “Oh yeah?”
“I wanted to see what the update was on Robert.” And yeah, okay, he wanted to see how she was doing, too. She’d been pretty damned ragged when he’d dropped her off from the hospital the other day.
“He’s improving nicely. Doc says, barring any complications, he can come home tomorrow. I’m working on getting the house ready.”
“Need a hand?”
After the I-can-do-it-myself attitude she’d shown at the airport, he was surprised when she said, “That’s actually why I was calling. I saw your truck drive by. You busy this evening?”
Had she been watching for him to get back? Nah. That was probably wishful thinking on his part. “Not particularly. Whatcha need?”
“A strong back and an appetite.”
“Funny, I’ve got both of those.”
“Well, if you want to head on over this way in a bit, I’ll put you to work, then feed you for your trouble. The house is full of a bunch of junk Robert can’t eat, and I’d hate for it to go to waste. I could use some help devouring it before he gets home.”
The prospect of spending the evening with her was way more appealing than it should be. She was Robert’s niece. Or…great niece? Nash wasn’t entirely clear on that. Either way, she was only here temporarily. A smart man would steer clear of any entanglements.
Nobody had ever accused Nash of being smart.
“Bribery by food is always acceptable. I’ll be over in ten.”
He changed clothes and made it in five.
Rowan answered the door in ancient jeans and a long-sleeved, V-neck t-shirt that did nothing to hide the fact that she was a woman. The ultra soft cotton hugged the curves of her breasts in a way that had his eyes wanting to do the same. Ruthlessly, he forced his gaze up to scan her face. The dark circles were nearly gone and her blue eyes were bright and alert—and amused as she caught him noticing her.
“You look better.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Nash wished them back. “Sorry, I just mean you looked pretty strung out and worried when I picked you up the other day. Now you don’t.”
Her own gaze raked him from head to toe as she backed up and motioned him inside. “It’s a fair observation. I’ve de-stressed over the past few days, now that I know Robert is going to be okay. I’ve been sleeping like a rock. It’s peaceful out here.”
“I imagine anything away from Houston seems peaceful.”
Her shoulders went rigid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nash frowned wondering what he’d said wrong. “Nothing. You live in a city that has a bigger population than the entire state of Mississippi. I can’t fathom finding much peace with that many people crammed into such a small space.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Rowan exhaled and seemed to force herself to relax. “Ignore me. I’m still a little rattled.”
On edge was what she was, and it had nothing to do with Robert. As a born fixer, Nash had an insatiable need to poke and pry. He and Rowan didn’t have that kind of relationship—or any relationship, really—so he let the odd behavior go. But it didn’t stop the itch of curiosity.
“So I’m guessing we’re starting with the strong back stuff?”
“Yeah, in the bedroom.”
Nash blinked, grateful she’d already headed down the hall so she didn’t see the instant punch of lust. Down boy.
But the caution did nothing to stop his eyes from fixing on the shape of her ass as she walked. Officer Beale was in prime physical shape. If he appreciated that, he was only human.
“I want to move one of the chairs from the living room in here, so he has somewhere he can sit to put on socks and shoes or whatever. Not that he’ll be doing that on his own for a bit, but it’s part and parcel of the whole.”
Nash stepped into a bedroom. It looked like Robert—confirmed bachelor. He’d moved into this house after his divorce and never had a woman touch it. The bed was made with a plain, hunter green spread. The windows had some out-of-the-package plaid curtains that were apparently made to match the comforter. They still had creases from where they’d been folded. Nash had a similar set in his place, though his mom had ironed them on some previous visit. The Mission-style furniture was utilitarian and functional—no muss, no fuss. Stacks and stacks of clothes covered the queen-size bed.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Reorganizing his closet. He’s got a lot of his every day stuff on high-up shelves he won’t be able to stretch to reach, and he won’t be able to wear shirts without buttons for a while, so I’m moving stuff and sorting things in order of most likely to be used.”
“Sensible.”
“I’ll get that finished later. For now, I need to shift the dresser down a few feet to make room for the chair in that corner, but I didn’t want to scratch the hardwood floors.”
“My back is yours, milady.”
They took care of the dresser, then hauled in the chair. She added a throw and a pillow she’d unearthed from who knew where and declared it done.
“That’s a nice homey touch. But what about the hole in the living room now? The seating is kinda sparse.”
Rowan shot him a grin that gave him a hint of the woman she was when she wasn’t beaten down by stress and worry. “I bought him the Cadillac of recliners. It’s out in the truck.”
“You bought Robert a recliner?”
“Yep. This may be the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.”
“You know he calls those old man chairs, right? He’s refused to get one.”
“Please. The man’s going to be in love with it in the end.”
“And if he’s not?”
“Then once he’s healed up, I’ll take it home myself.”
She led him out to Robert’s truck where The Chair waited to be hauled in. It was definitely a capital letter piece of furniture.
“Are those cupholders?”
Her grin flashed again. “Yes. Yes they are.”
“Hang on, I need a minute.” Nash laid a hand over his heart and bowed his head, both in homage to The Chair and to the woman who’d actually bought it.
Rowan laughed, looped her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. “You can genuflect after we get it inside. C’mon.”
It took some serious muscle. The Chair was a massive bastard, and getting it through the door wasn’t an easy task. But at last, they got it in place, in prime view of the TV and the big picture window that overlooked the woods stretching behind the house.
Rowan gestured toward The Chair. “Go ahead. Take it for a test drive.”
Nash flopped down, appreciating the way the cushy leather cupped his body. He ran his hands over the arms. “This is a glorious piece of furniture.”
“The doctor warned me that the bed might not be comfortable for him and that patients often find recliners easier to sleep in, so I figured it was worth getting him a good one.”