No. Uh-uh. Just not a good plan. Everything in her stood strong on that one.The strong shaking of her head was testament to that fact.
“I can’t take looking at the chair and seeing it as your bedroom.”
So she’d sleep on the floor, if she had to. She had a blow-up mattress.
“Nor can I have you in a space that isn’t behind a closed door.”
Iris saw the loss coming her way. Saw the sense, heard the raw honesty, in his words.
Had to take back the upper hand enough to have her own control in the situation. “That’s settled then,” she said, abruptly ending his opportunity for discussion. “I’m staying.”
She was standing by the time the words were out. Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, she said, “Works out fine. The master bath will give me more privacy.” And left him sitting there.
* * *
Scott was about bursting with a need to pee by the time his chair arrived. But with his senses returning, there’d been no way he’d been going to have Iris standing outside the door while he took care of his business. He cringed every time he thought about the things she’d already witnessed.
Placated himself with the idea that he hadn’t been himself. He’d been patient number one. Not Scott Martin.
Iris oversaw the chair’s unloading, delivery into the house and making it to the couch. And then, true to her word, left the room to head back to the kitchen, where she was working on dinner. Baking some of his salmon. Putting together a salad that used broccoli and cranberries, based on her questions to him regarding his current preferences. After three years of conversation and a plethora of shared meals on the beach,she pretty much knew his likes and dislikes.
She’d left the brake on for him. And gritting his teeth against the pain, he actually took a mite of pleasure in doing for himself. Most particularly after he made it back to the couch without losing the contents of his stomach due to pain.
The mind-numbing shards of electric shock shooting through him weren’t quite as unbearable as they had been the day before. That was what he focused on. What mattered. He’d made it through the worst of it. With success.
Thoughts of his victory over failure enshrined him with strength.
So much so that when he awoke from an hour’s nap, and heard Iris speaking softly to Morgan and Angel, ushering them outside to the beach, he lifted himself into his chair for a second go-round. Heading to his own bathroom. To go again. But also to collect the personal items he was going to need over the next few days. A razor for one. He just wasn’t a few-days’-growth type of guy. No matter how fashionable the look.
The task posed some hardships. Requiring him to stand on one leg with only the support of the counter. But that wasn’t what almost did him in.
It was the sight of Iris’s toiletries laid out neatly on his granite countertop, as though she was sharing his most intimate space with him, that hit him with the jolt that had him falling back into his chair.
A jolt to the groin so powerful he went from nothing to everything in a split second.
Morgan’s sudden bark rent through him. Her looking-for-him tone. The one she used whenever he came home.
The three females sharing his space were back. Sweeping his things into his lap,to cover evidence that Iris absolutely could not see, Scott swung his chair around so quickly his left foot caught on the door. And he cried out.
“Ahh…” He cut off the sound of his agony abruptly, but not soon enough.
“Scott?” Iris was right behind the sound of her voice. Her expression as worried as she’d sounded.
He scowled. “I’m fine,” he told her. And then glared at her. “Collecting my things, which definitely falls under personal business.”
After giving him a careful once-over, she turned her back and walked out.
Without another word.
A smart woman.
True to her word.
And he was no longer even a tiny bit hard.
Giving him a very welcome revelation.
The surfing had worked. Even if he still harbored some very temporary hots for his friend, his injuries were most definitely going to prevent him from acting on them.
