“Do you want some help changing that bandage?” she asked, deliberately offhanded. “I’m sure it’s a little hard to do with your left hand.”
“I’ve managed before. Just knocked the bottle off the dresser with my elbow. I usually change the bandage in the bathroom, but the light’s somewhat better in here.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t do it yourself. I said I’m here to give you a hand, if you’d like. If you’d rather handle it yourself, fine.”
After only a momentary hesitation, he nodded. “It would be faster if you help. Uh, thanks.”
Because she knew what it probably cost him to accept assistance from her—from anyone, really, being such a fiercely independent sort—she wasn’t bothered by his somewhat less than gracious acceptance. “Maybe you should sit down so I can reach it better. Does it need to be cleaned? Should I bring a washcloth?”
“It’s not dirty. The bandage was wet and uncomfortable, so I thought I should swap it for a dry one.”
“Makes sense.” She reached for the half-removed bandage and eased it away from his injury. With an effort she kept her expression impassive when she saw the jagged, six-inch row of close-set stitches that marched across his shoulder. The skin around the threads was puckered, but the redness didn’t seem to be spreading and his shoulder wasn’t hot to her touch, so the meds must be working.
“Are you supposed to put antibiotic ointment on the stitches?”
Sitting on the end of the bed, he nodded toward a tube on the dresser. “Just a little. Only reason I wear the bandage is to keep my shirt from rubbing the stitches.”
Using a square of gauze, she dabbed ointment lightly over the wound. Their heads were so close she felt his warm breath on her cheek.
Did he lift weights these days? When she’d known him before, he’d been slender and athletic, but the muscles in his arms and chest hadn’t been quite as well-defined. He was definitely a man in peak condition despite the injury. And if her fingers lingered for a moment on a taut bicep—well, that could be attributed to incidental contact while she prepared the area for the new bandage.
The shadowed room was silent except for the soft splash of rain on the windows. She was all too aware of the rumpled bed, the masculine clutter of clothes and toiletries, the mounting warmth in the air. She felt a need to fill the quiet, though she would try not to slip into nervous prattling. “You said you had surgery on your shoulder? Did you tear a ligament or something?”
“Something like that.”
The very blandness of his nonreply made her hands go still. In a flash, she was taken back to her childhood, watching her mom patch up the latest injury her dad had acquired in one of his reckless stunts, either on the job or off. Just as it had when she was an anxious child, her stomach knotted painfully.
“You weren’t, um, shot, were you?” she asked, voicing the worst nightmare that had haunted her when Gavin announced his determination to don a badge.
“I wasn’t shot.”
And that was all he was going to tell her. He couldn’t have made it clearer if he’d said it outright.
Taking the less-than-subtle hint, she bit her lip and finished applying the bandage without speaking again. She smoothed tape over the clean gauze, taking her time to make sure the edges were well sealed. Her hand still resting on his shoulder, she glanced at his face to make sure she wasn’t hurting him, only to find him looking gravely back at her. For a fleeting moment, she saw in his eyes a hint of the Gavin she’d once known—younger, more open, less hardened by his job and experiences.
Her breath caught hard in her throat as more memories crashed through her mind in a kaleidoscope of broken images. Hungry kisses. Heated caresses. Nights of passion more overwhelming than anything she’d experienced before. Or since, for that matter. Which was totally understandable, right? Wasn’t it supposed to be that way when a woman’s thoughts drifted back to her first love?
The shadows seemed to deepen in the room around them, enclosing them in a cozy corner of soft light spilling in through the single window. Her gaze lowered slowly, pausing on his mouth. His lips looked so stern and firm, yet she remembered them as warm and eager. If she allowed herself, she suspected she could still recall their taste. It was probably—definitely—best if she kept that memory locked away along with all the others.
His voice was rough when he broke the silence. “That should do it.”
“What? Oh.” Realizing he referred to the bandage, she dropped her hand and stepped quickly back. “Yes, that should hold.”
“Jenny...”
A heavy pounding on the front door made them both start and turn in that direction. Jenny heard someone shouting, a muffled male voice calling Gavin’s name. They hadn’t locked the front door. She heard it open, heard the voice more clearly. “Gavin? Hey, buddy, you in here? You okay?”
“Rob.” Shaking his head, Gavin pushed himself to his feet and called out, “I’m here. Hang on.”
Snatching up a dry T-shirt, he moved toward the bedroom door without looking back at Jenny. She followed quickly. It occurred to her that if someone had made it up the road to the cabin, that meant she could now drive down. It was probably only because she was so tired that she wasn’t more excited by that realization.
* * *
Rob Lopez peered around the cabin door, squinting into the shadows as he called out again. “Hey, Gav? Are you— Oh, there you are.”
Pulling the T-shirt over his head, Gavin moved to greet his friend. He was surprised to see him there. His pals had a standing invitation to join him whenever he was using the cabin, but usually they called before showing up. “Hey, Rob. What are you doing here? How’d you get past the flood and the downed tree?”
Rob opened the door all the way, shaking water out of his curly dark hair like a wet labradoodle as he stood just outside on the porch. “I won’t come in—my boots are too muddy. We drove up in J.T.’s off-road rig. Nearly floated it at the bottom of the hill. You have two trees uprooted, by the way. There’s another a quarter mile down the road. I left the other guys working down there, and I hiked up to let you know we’re here—in the rain, I might add, though it’s almost stopped now, at least for a little while. You’re going to owe me for this one.”