River Wolf(33)

“You need a damn bell,” she snapped.

His eyebrows lifted and so did the corners of his mouth. “It’s my house, Colby. I go where I like.”

Of course he did, and her pulse continued to jackhammer. “Sorry, you startled me.”

For a split second, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his smile grew. “My apologies. You looked more fierce than frightened.”

“You get used to taking care of yourself when you’re on your own.” Blowing out a breath, she glanced at the unmade bed. The scent of sickness continued to linger in the room. “He has an infection.”

“He does.” A hint of surprise deepened his voice. “Dr. Chase is aware, however, and she will take care of it.”

“How did they get him downstairs without me hearing them?” The question wasn’t one she expected an answer for. Hell, Brett carried him up the stairs all by himself. Glancing at her host, she frowned. He was a big man, and carried himself well, but the dress shirt and jeans were loose, comfortable clothes and didn’t reveal much about his physique.

“I am sorry I had to abandon you earlier, I had several business calls to take. I was just going to get a drink when I heard you up here. Would you like some wine?”

She’d love some, but… “I really should get going. I didn’t mean to spend the whole day here.”

“It’s late, and it’s still raining. You mentioned Florida earlier, yes?” He took her elbow and the earlier jolt she’d received seemed to echo through her. A phantom pop or maybe she was just imagining it all. With a hand still on her arm, he guided her from the room, then down the stairs. Falling into step with him, she tried to ignore how natural it felt. The man wasn’t friendly.

No, that’s not fair. He’s lonely. In some ways he reminded her of the longer-term patients on her floor. The ones, who received fewer and fewer visitors, to whom the nurses became family and friends. They grasped onto those few brief minutes when they had to change their sheets or check their vitals—because when the nurses were done, they were alone again. “Do you live alone?” Not that it’s any of my business.

“Yes,” he answered as he led her past the sitting room and down a second hallway on the far side of the stairs. The house’s layout was an intriguing mix of old colonial and modern sensibilities.

“You remodeled this place, didn’t you?” It would explain the stairs leading straight up to a second floor, and a hallway that didn’t seem to quite fit with the rest, though the contractor had matched the molding almost perfectly.

“About fifteen years ago.” He opened a pair of double doors revealing a library-like room with bookshelves built into the walls, a fireplace and hearth nearly half his height constructed from deep red brickwork.

It was a magnificent hearth, right down to the fat ledge over it perfect for hanging stockings and other decorations. Two sofas faced each other with a pair of recliners filling out the square and a long coffee table with a shallow top that included a bowl full of fresh fruit—which explained the hints of citrus she detected underscoring a heavier taste of sandalwood and was that fir trees? Or maybe she just had Christmas on the brain. The color scheme surprised her, deep coal gray on the furniture, rich blue in the carpet and walls trimmed in a similar blue. It seemed stormy, yet—open at the same time. A wall of windows overlooked the backyard, not that she could see much in the deepening dusk plunging them straight into nightfall except for the periodic illumination the lightning revealed.

The mirroring double doors on the far side were also lined in panes of glass. Was there a porch outside, allowing visitors to spill out when the room was too full? What would it look like filled with sunshine?

“Do you prefer red or white wine?”

“I shouldn’t have any,” she murmured. “Besides the fact that I plan to drive, I’ve always been a cheap date where alcohol is concerned.” Why the hell had she just said that? The room reflected back at her from the dark panes of glass, so she couldn’t miss the hint of amusement in his smile. The effect was transformative, he really should smile more. Yet even the hint of his lips curving seemed to take an effort. Smiling shouldn’t be difficult.

“Since I’d rather you stayed at least until you’ve talked to Dr. Chase, how about half a glass? We can have something to eat, too. That will mitigate the alcohol.” A man used to getting his way showed her courtesy by asking and not forcing.

Folding her arms, she faced him. “You are all working very hard on getting me to not leave considering a few hours ago, you’d never met me.”