Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) (3 page)

Nodding, she closed the gap between them, surprised to catch a faint whiff of a mouthwatering, woodsy cologne. Only a Traynor could freefall into a pile of dirt and come out smelling great. When the nurse finally left, she released a worried sigh.

"Have they examined your h-head yet? I think you may have hit it harder than we thought-"

"Ken– listen up." Harrison's eyes snapped open, shocking her with the sudden clarity in his gaze. "They want to keep me here until a family member can take me home."

"You fell two stories and landed on your head. That's probably not a bad idea."

"I don't
have
family available," he shot back. "If someone doesn't take me home, they'll make me stay indefinitely– like  . . . maybe until Jeff gets back next Wednesday."

A mental light bulb went off and she chuckled with relief. "
That's
why you were asking for me? For a minute there, I thought you'd lost your marbles."

"I already told them you're my wife. You have to back me up or they
will
think I'm confused. Tell them you're taking me home and you won't let me out of your sight," he ordered. "Otherwise, I'm stuck here."

"No offense Harrison, but maybe this is where you belong for a few days. You don't look so hot."

"Like
hell
." His pain-filled eyes shot daggers at her. "I've got casts on my wrist
and
my ankle, thanks to you. And stitches in three places." He struggled to sit up before falling back against the pillow. "You
owe
me, Ken. For the next few hours– you're my wife, got it?"

Based on his mood, the honeymoon was clearly over. "Think about it," she urged. "You're lucky the fall didn't kill you-"

His expression hardened. "You're gonna sign me out of here and then you're gonna drive me home and help me inside."

Was it possible she'd met someone more stubborn than her? "You've got broken bones and you're in serious pain-"

When the door swished open a graying man entered, white coat flapping behind him. "What have we here?" He scanned the chart briefly. "Once your x-rays come back, we can probably release you . . . but you're not to move out of bed the next three to four days."

"Are you sure it's safe? He suffered a serious fall." Kendall ignored smoldering glares from the invalid.

"He's got a goose egg on his head." He reviewed the chart. "Possible slight concussion. His spine is in remarkable shape, all things considered. Other than a couple broken bones and a few stitches-" He nodded to Harrison. "You were lucky today."

"Yes, sir."

The doctor swiveled his attention back to her. "If his headache doesn't improve noticeably in three days, or if it worsens- get him back here. For his broken bones– call this orthopedist next week." He handed her a card. "Crutches will be awkward with only one working arm, so use the cane instead. Keep his casts dry."

He tugged a pad from his pocket and scribbled a prescription. "One pill every four hours for the next three days, then only as necessary for pain." He glanced from Harrison to her. "I don't want him out of bed for forty-eight hours. Then– only up for brief periods for two more days. That'll give him a jump on healing. Any questions?"

Probably several hundred, if Ken were allowed a moment to think. "W-what about- Do I need a visiting nurse-"

The doctor smiled over her worried expression. "He looks bad, but he's in decent shape. You should be able to take care of him."

"But-" Traynor's hand tightened in warning.

"I'll feel
much
better at home. My wife will take great care of me."

The doctor swung his gaze back to her. "You'll keep him quiet, young lady?"

Forcing a smile, she answered Harry's vice-like warning with one of her own. Oh, she'd take care of him, alright. "I'm sure I'll have no trouble at all." 

Chapter 2

Harry hurt everywhere. After three excruciating hours, his x-rays were finally read and all the damned paperwork signed so he could finally be discharged. Three hours for Kendall to locate some guy named Jimmy on his barstool at the Hickory Pub and confirm her truck had been delivered to the hospital. Three hours for the pain to worsen. Whatever shock he'd been in after the fall had long since worn off.

There wasn't a damned spot on his body that wasn't battered, broken or bruised. But he couldn't risk a pain pill yet. If he did, Ken would likely abandon him. She'd confess to the doctor she barely knew him. In his drooling state, he wouldn't be able to argue. They'd wheel him into a noisy, sterile room and he'd be trapped for the weekend– or longer.

But damned if he didn't want a pill. Or five. Jesus, he felt like hell. He eyed the pharmacy bottles in Kendall's hand. If he could just get to the truck . . . He'd allow himself
one
. To take the edge off. Despite the mother-huge headache assaulting his brain, he ran through the list of tasks to be accomplished before he could collapse into bed.

He had to get home. He had to get
into
his home. Christ– he had to find his briefcase containing
the keys
to his home. Harry bit back a groan. His mind wandered over the logistics. Did he have any food? The way he felt, he wouldn't be leaving the damn condo for several days. Of course, the way he felt, he probably wouldn't be eating anytime soon, either. Could he even make it up the stairs to his bed?

"You okay?" Ken's croaky voice interrupted his disjointed thoughts.

Glancing down at the cast on his ankle, Harry regretted it as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple him on his ass. Praying he wouldn't throw up all over her, he blinked owlishly and sucked in a few cleansing gulps of cool night air. Through clenched teeth, he answered. "I'm fine."

"You look like hell."

Kendall had the bedside manner of a truck stop waitress. She would be the one snarling at you to hurry up and order– while she sloshed coffee down your pants. Harry had trouble imagining what it would be like to endure her presence for an extended period of time. Her voice alone was enough to make him wince.

Next to his wheelchair, he sensed her smoldering. She'd been second-guessing him all evening, badgering him to stay at the hospital. And he was damn sick of it. She'd gotten him into this mess. She'd damn well help him out . . . whether she liked his plan or not. Risking a slow turn, he was thankful when the movement didn't cause cymbals to crash in his head. Her golden eyes glowered at him, more with concern than anger, he acknowledged. But all bets were off once they were alone. She was gonna blast him.

By then, she'd be stuck with him. Adams might be belligerent, but she wouldn't leave him for dead by the side of the road.
He hoped
. Ken held her silence as the orderly strapped his battered body into the passenger seat of her ramshackle truck. As the orderly rolled the wheelchair back to the building, she pounced.

"I should have my head examined for letting you talk me into this."

Wincing at her shriek, Harry resisted the urge to unload on her. "Any civility I possess was exhausted several hours ago. If you
must
speak, please whisper. My head is ready to explode."

"I knew this was a bad idea," she said through clenched teeth. "You need to swallow one of those damn pills and lay back against the headrest."

At least she'd lowered her voice. "I'm counting the seconds until I can do that, but I have to drive myself home."

"We've been at the hospital for seven hours." She snorted in disbelief. "No way am I driving out on that construction site in the dark. We'll end up in the bottom of another crater."

Forcing his eyes open, he bit back a groan. God– even the parking lot lights were too bright. "Fine - then you've bought yourself the hour drive back to Stafford."

"Listen up, Prettyboy-"

Her amber eyes turned molten in a heartbeat.
Big mistake
. Prickly Ken was apparently dangerous when poked.

"You're coming home with me," she announced. "You're gonna get in bed without arguing and you're gonna stay there until I decide you're well enough to leave." She stared at him, a fierce scowl on her face. "You got that?"

"Like
hell
. Holding me hostage wasn't part of the plan."

She had the gall to laugh. "You're the one who said I was responsible, remember?"

"It was my fault I-" Suddenly, Harry didn't have an ounce of strength left to argue. He was too busy fighting the nausea rising in his throat.

***

Braking for a traffic light, Kendall heard his stifled groan. Risking a sideways glance, his face was etched with agony as he swallowed convulsively. Traynor was approaching the limits of his endurance.

"I promised the doctor I'd take care of you." Sensing his ripple of shock, she hid a smile. If it were possible, Harrison Traynor was even more stubborn than her daddy.

"I am
not
staying with you, Ken."

"Harrison, honey . . . we married in sickness and health," she drawled. "I mean to honor my vows."

"I said that so they'd release me." His head tilted drunkenly when he turned to glare at her. "I can take care of my-" Slumping back against the seat, he clutched his head a moment later when she jostled over uneven pavement. "Dammit– you'd better pull over. I'm gonna throw up."

Kendall slowed the truck, edging to the side of the deserted road. Harrison barely made it out the window before he started retching. Afterward, he rested his face on the frame, gulping in shaky breaths of the cool night air.

"Death has
got
to be preferable to this."

"Think you're finished?" Harry startled, unaware she'd jumped out and rounded the truck. When he nodded, Kendall peeled off her sweatshirt and doused a corner of it with bottled water before running the wet cloth over his forehead. His hair was streaked with dirt and perspiration, his forehead patched together with stitches. Splashing more water on the shirt, she gently swiped the back of his neck before lifting his chin and cleaning his face with the rest of the bottle.

His eyes closed, dark lashes swept his ghostly face. Kendall was caught by a wave of sympathy for the excruciating pain she knew he suffered. "Let's get you home and clean you up. I'll drive as slow as I can, okay?"

"Jeez– I'm pathetic." He sagged against the cushion.

"I think you're bordering on superhuman to endure what happened today." She re-fastened the seatbelt around his slack frame before heading back around the truck. When he started shivering, she slid him a worried glance before turning up the heat. How the hell would she get him upstairs to bed?

By the time she arrived home, Traynor's soft breathing told her he'd either passed out from pain or fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. Ken swung down from the seat and headed into the darkened house, in need of a few minutes of preparation before she could haul him inside.

Wincing at the chorus of barks that began the moment her key turned in the lock, she prayed Lurch had been able to hold it for so many extra hours. She'd endured enough messes for one night.

"Let's go outside, pal." Scrambling through the house, she snapped on lights as she headed for the back door. Jerking it open, she released a relieved sigh when Lurch bounded into the backyard. Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran to her bedroom. There, she flung back the comforter on her bed before heading for the bathroom. She emerged with a stack of clean towels and two extra pillows. Harrison needed sleep most of all, but eventually he'd want to be propped up. Tossing his prescription on the nightstand, she returned to the stairs.

Time for the hard part. She propped open the door before crossing the front porch and heading for the truck. Harrison was still asleep when she neared the passenger side. Hating the thought of waking him, his participation was unfortunately necessary.

"Harrison? Can you hear me?" He grunted a response when she swung his legs out. Grabbing his cane, she slung it over her arm. Hoisting him around his waist, she gently tugged him to his feet, then quickly dove under his arm to support his weight before he pitched forward.

"As soon as we're inside you can go back to sleep." Kendall panicked for a moment when Traynor slumped over her. She didn't want to calculate how much weight she was trying to prevent from crashing to the pavement.

"Harry, wake up." After only a minute, she was perspiring from the effort to hold him upright. Groaning, he finally took some weight on his good leg. She waited until he was awake before handing him the cane. "Can you help me get you inside?"

"H-how far?"

"Not far," she lied, glancing up. The turret room window glowed invitingly out of reach. She tried to block out the vision of all those stairs. When they reached the top of the porch steps they collapsed by mutual agreement.

"God, Ken– can't I just sleep out here? Roll me inside in the morning."

Panting for breath, she lay beside him on the porch, staring up at the moths fluttering around the light. The scent of honeysuckle wafted over her like a thin summer blanket. From her vantage point, she noticed the porch ceiling needed painting again.

"I might join you, Traynor. If it takes this long to get you upstairs, it'll
be
morning before we get there." Turning, she found him watching her, his vivid, green eyes red-rimmed from fatigue, yet quietly assessing her in the dark. He'd gone from comatose to alert in a matter of minutes. "You ready yet?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cursed under his breath.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Biting back a groan, she stooped to grab his cane. If every muscle in her body was aching, she could only imagine how Harry felt. She staggered with him through the foyer, their movements reminding her of the three-legged race she'd won in second grade, and used the momentum to launch up the stairs for the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, she hobbled with him to the foot of the bed and sat down. Before she could remove his arm from around her, Harrison collapsed back on the mattress, taking her with him. They lay side by side, out of breath and drenched in perspiration.

"Please tell me I don't have to move again."

"It's only three feet to the pillow, but we'll wait until your pain pill kicks in." When he didn't respond, Ken allowed herself the luxury of one satisfying moment before the awkwardness of their situation began to unnerve her. She had the gorgeous, hard bodied Harrison Traynor in her bed– one muscled arm still wrapped around her. As fantasies went, this was about as close to perfection as she would ever achieve.

And she was too exhausted to enjoy it. As her eyelids drooped, the irresistible lure of Traynor's force field of body heat demanded she move, lest she fall asleep beside him. She still had work to do. It was probably a blessing when Lurch began howling at the back door.

"I hear a wolf." Traynor's voice slurred with sleep. She rose quickly, retrieving a long overdue pill from the bottle. When he murmured, she slipped the pill between his lips, holding his head up while he swallowed it with water.

She would've undressed him and tucked him in, but Lurch continued to whimper. Cursing, she strode from the room. The last thing she needed were angry calls from the neighbors. Lurch bounded inside, hovering by his dish until she noticed it was empty.

"Sorry, Sweetie." After filling his bowl, she set out clean water before filling the cat's dish. Like magic, Wink appeared, stretching her slinky frame and yawning as though oblivious to the man she had just dragged through the house.

"Don't look at me like that," she warned. "He's only staying a few days." Crouching to stroke the cat, Kendall was nearly bowled over by her faithful mutt. Patting him absently, she stifled a yawn. "I've had a hellacious day. I'm taking a shower and going to bed. I don't want to hear any fighting down here, got it?"

***

Lord, he was tired. Football practice had been brutal. Harry felt as though he'd been run down by a locomotive instead of a linebacker. Hearing voices murmur downstairs, he smiled. Aunt Mona was busy in the kitchen, cooking all his favorites for the Thanksgiving break.

"Harrison? You still awake?"

He scrunched his nose in confusion. "Mona? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Sugar. Let's get you out of those clothes so you can sleep, okay?"

He felt her hands at his throat and twisted his head so she could unbutton his shirt. Her fingers were cool when they slipped the shirt from his shoulders. He groaned with the effort it required to move, frowning when his aunt gasped.

"Whass wrong?" He blinked, but there were two of her . . . and neither looked like Mona Traynor. She didn't smell like his aunt, either. She smelled like the cheerleader he'd been hitting on all season.

"Lord, you've got so many gashes." She dabbed at his chest and he felt a sting of heat. Harry didn't remember getting scratched at the game.

"Deborah? Is that you?"

"Nope. Not Deborah, either. You sure get around, Traynor."

"Deborah's sooo pretty. W-who are you?"