He picked at the rubber on the top of his crutch. “I’m not sure whether you’re complimenting or insulting me.”
“I’m not calling you a Chihuahua if that helps.” She grinned for the first time since she’d blurted the impulsive offer. “My garage has been converted into a studio apartment so you would have plenty of privacy. It’s a first floor, no stairs to worry about.”
Ooops. She could see his back getting up about her mentioning his injuries. Men could so miss the big picture. But then who was she to talk? She couldn’t bring herself to be with a man because she was wrapped up in her own self-image.
Time to help the man out. He’d obviously been through hell and she understood the bite of those flames well.
“People profile, and you’re a really big guy.” Ego stroke time. “A police dog?”
“You’re good at the suck-up game.” He surprised her with a half smile.
A really surprisingly cute half smile on that rugged big mug of his. She had trouble remembering what she planned to say and that was so not good.
So she grinned right back. She could do this. She was good at putting distance between herself and men, after all, she worked in an almost exclusively male environment. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not insinuating that we pick up where we left off five years ago.”
His smile went wider than hers. “You mean the point where I woke up in a bed by myself with a letter that said, ‘Thanks for a great weekend. Have a nice life.’”
Her smile faded, contrition biting. “The letter wasn’t that…uh…”
“Callous?”
“Curt.”
“However you want to remember it.” He passed the envelope of stalker notes back to her.
“I’m very sorry if I was rude. That was an amazing weekend during a difficult time for me.” She gathered up the envelope to her chest and made a stab at backing out of this setup after all. “It was a silly idea that we should move in together. I shouldn’t have asked you to put yourself in danger. Forget I said anything. I’m just…I don’t know. Shaken up, I guess.”
He watched her silently which made her all fidgety when she prided herself on her poise under fire.
She got off the fake leather sofa ASAP before she did something reckless like move close enough to share leg-to-leg body heat with him. “It was good to see you again. Enjoy the cookies.”
“Nola.”
She backed away, hoping the rental car company would show up with a temporary vehicle for her soon. She definitely needed to get out of here.
“Nola.” His voice swelled to a growl.
Her spine stiffened but her feet kept inching her toward the door.
“Nola, damn it.”
She stopped.
“I never said no.”
“Oh.”
He’d let her babble on just to see what she would say?
Rick nodded toward the window showcasing the burned-out shell of her SUV. “The minute that car blew, you had yourself a new roommate.”
Chapter 3
Rick dropped onto the edge of the bed in his empty room, resting his crutches against the nightstand. He’d used up his reserves today walking around with Nola. He’d been on his feet more this afternoon than any day since the accident—and he wasn’t a slacker around this place by any standards.
He carried his weight on the rehab circuit. He wanted the hell out. Not just out, but on his own two feet. Whole, back to some kind of productive work. He knew he couldn’t return to his pararescue life at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona. That part of his life was packed up tighter than his furniture in storage.
All of which he would think about later. Right now he had a more immediate goal—finding out what was going on in Nola Seabrook’s life.