Loving Again(77)

                When Amanda arrived that afternoon, her favorite nurse explained what the doctors had told him and warned her that Sam wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she suggested Amanda might want to go home and come back after he’d cooled down.

                Amanda found him pacing the hall outside his room. “Hey, cowboy, rumor has it you’ve had a bad day.”

                “Goddamn doctors. Why the hell do they think they know better than I do what I can or can’t do? I don’t need Nurse Ratched or some strange man — they said they would arrange a male nurse if I wanted one. Christ, that’s all I need.”

                “If you’ll stop ranting and stand still, I’ll kiss you hello.”

                “Sorry, baby.” He held her and she kissed him. “I can’t stand being here for another couple days until they make arrangements.”

                “Not happy appears to be an understatement. But I’ve got an idea that might make you feel better. Let’s go back in your room and talk.”

                They walked toward his room, his casted arm around her shoulders. “What, you have the name of someone who can come in and help me?”

                “Not exactly.” She led him to the two chairs next to the window. “Suppose you had a place to go where there’d be help available twenty-four seven? Would that satisfy the doctors?”

                “Some kind of nursing home? They said that, too. Absolutely not.”

                “No, I’m thinking my house.” Ignoring the startled look on his face, she continued. “If you recuperated with me, I’d be able to help you. I could change your dressing and take you to your appointments. I can cook, help you with meals.”

                The startled look was slowly being replaced with the wisp of a smile playing around his lips. “How about showering? Would you help me shower?”

                “If you need help, of course.”

                “Oh, I’m sure I’d need help.” The smile had taken control of his mouth and was moving up through his dimple to the crinkles around his eyes. “And where would I sleep?”

                “Wherever you’d like. I have four bedrooms. Take your pick.”

                “Suppose I pick yours? Would you be there, too?”

                “That could be arranged, assuming it doesn’t interfere with your rest.”

                “You sleeping beside me would never interfere with me. Of course, I can’t promise I won’t try to interfere with you.” A full-fledged grin appeared on his face. “This shitty day has suddenly gotten a helluva lot better.”

                “I’m glad you like my idea.”

                The grin faded as fast as it had appeared. He cocked his head, frowning. “Seriously, are you sure? You’re not doing this because you think you owe me something or you’re feeling guilty or responsible for what happened or bullshit like that, are you?” he asked. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

                “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I thought it would solve your problem, and make you happy. Because … ” she paused.

                “Because?” he prompted.

                “Because this will probably be the only chance I’ll ever have to take care of you. Or, maybe more accurately, the only time you’ll ever let me take care of you. So, let me.”