Ghostly Liaison (18 page)

Getting onto the exam table proved difficult—her arms acted more like gummy worms than actual arms. Rob waited all of one attempt before he lifted her onto the surface. Some things weren’t worth arguing.

Kate pinned up some of Bridget’s hair. “I’m going to shave around the site, but it shouldn’t be too noticeable. The rest of your hair will cover it. Now, this is going to sting a little.”

Sting a little? Try a lot! As soon as the needle pricked her skin, she nearly jumped off the table.

“Rob, hold her head, would you?”

His warm and comforting hands encompassed the sides of her head, his thumbs near her eyes. It was oddly reassuring knowing he held her firmly, but gently.

“You still with me?” he asked

She gazed into his eyes. Eyes showing concern. Eyes she could enjoy seeing every day. If only. “Yep, still here.”

Could fire be cold? A burning, stinging sensation which also felt ice-like invaded her skull. She grabbed onto Rob’s shoulders.

He looked over at Kate. “Can I place her head against my shoulder?” She must have nodded because he rested her forehead in the crook of his shoulder. “Dig in all you want. I’m not moving.”

The electric razor buzzed loudly, but at least she couldn’t feel it. How long the numbness would last was anyone’s guess. In less time than she had to think, the buzzing stopped.

There was some tugging going on at the back of her head, but thankfully no pain. Rob smelled incredible, though, and she got lost in his scent. He was a drug she could become addicted to so easily. The fact his mere presence eradicated her headaches already earned him high praise.

But when had any man been there for her like Rob? Not ever, that’s when. He didn’t have to stick around, yet he did.

Pain sliced through her head as the needle pierced her skin. She twitched and gripped his massive shoulders. So much for being numb.

She steadied herself and gritted her teeth. She would not cry out. She would not cry out. But she would certainly squeeze the life out of Rob. God, she hoped he didn’t bruise easily. He seemed pretty solid, though.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered against her ear.

No, she wasn’t. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or cry out a scream.

“Bridget?” Kate asked. “Do you need me to numb it again?”

She took a couple of breaths. “Are you almost done?”

“A few more stitches.”

A few? She could tough it out. “Finish, then.” The pain couldn’t get any—

Holy Mother of God!

“Rob, you need to hold her still.”

He gripped her tighter. It might have hurt if all the pain wasn’t being directed to that one spot Kate fiddled with. Bridget panted, similar to a woman in the throes of labor. She’d never had a baby, but Good Lord, if it hurt this bad, she may never be a mother.

His shirt became wet. Damn, was she crying? Stupid eyes. How dare they betray her?

“All done,” Kate announced.

Bridget let her muscles finally relax and melted into Rob as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I think I got your shirt wet. You know, from drooling.”

His low chuckle vibrated against her as he embraced her with a hug. “It’ll dry.”

Kate placed something against her wound and then wrapped gauze around her head. “Try and keep this dry, okay?” She placed a fresh ice pack against her tender wound. “Keep ice on it for a few hours. I’m giving you more packs and some fresh bandages. Change the dressing before you go to bed tonight.”

“Too bad it’s not Halloween. I could go out looking like a mummy.” No laughter. Damn, that was good stuff, too.

“You have any ibuprofen?”

“I do.”

“Then you know the drill.”

Oh shit. And after all the work Kate had done, Bridget couldn’t ask her cousin to stay with her. That meant calling her mother. A groan slipped out.

“What’s the matter?” Rob asked. “Are you in pain?”

“I have to call my mother.”

“You don’t have to call her if you don’t want to. I’ll be staying with you tonight.”

He wanted to take care of her? All night? “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t. End of discussion.”

She nearly cried. This man who took her headaches away, gave up his Saturday night and for what? To wake her every hour? God, she was such a user.

* * * *

Rob thoroughly enjoyed holding Bridget in his arms. Maybe next time it would be more romantic.

Kate smirked at him. Was he looking dreamy or something?

“Bridget, you will rest tonight and tomorrow. And I’m trusting Rob to make sure you do. Because if I hear you haven’t, then I’m taking you to the hospital myself. You hear?”

“Yes,” Bridget muttered against his chest. The word mother might have followed.

“I’ll see you two at the barbecue on Monday, then.”

Bless Kate for making his job easier. He’d kiss her, but then he’d have to release Bridget and he wasn’t willing to go that far yet.

Bridget lifted her head. “You said I should rest.”

“You should be fine by Monday. If you’re not, or if you don’t show, I’ll personally drive you to the doctor. Got it?”

“Man, you’re awfully bossy.”

“Yes. And you’re pigheaded.” Kate smiled and held out a medium-sized white bag.

Bridget took it and returned the smile. “Thanks, Kate. I owe you one.”

“Rob, carry her to the truck. I don’t want her walking.”

Now, those were orders he would leap to fill. He’d reached for Bridget when she put her hand out and opened her mouth.

Kate lifted a finger, stopping Bridget. “Don’t even. If I had a wheelchair, you’d be in it. Since I don’t, you’re getting carried. You don’t like it? I can take you to the hospital. Or call your mother.”

Bridget’s eyes widened momentarily at that last remark, then turned all innocent-like. “All I was going to say was wouldn’t it have been more polite to ask Rob if he wanted to carry me?”

He nearly burst out laughing. She was so full of it.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Rob, do you mind?”

“Not in the least.” He scooped the woman of his dreams into his arms. Next, he’d find a way into her heart.

Bridget couldn’t move—her arms and legs bound, enclosed. She couldn’t see—dark, so dark. Something blocked her airway—suffocating her. Panic set in. She screamed.

“Easy, easy. You’re just dreaming.” Rob’s soothing voice oriented her. He grasped her shoulder.

Dreaming? No. Nightmare? Possibly. Once her head cleared, she became aware of her surroundings. She couldn’t move because the covers had twisted around her body. The sun had set hours ago, putting the bedroom in darkness. No suffocating, either. Blame that on the pillow she had burrowed her face into.

He turned on the bedside light and sat beside her. Gentle fingers brushed the hair from her face. “That’s the second time you’ve screamed yourself awake. Want to talk about it?”

Nightmares were not meant to be shared. She pulled away and rolled onto her back. Big mistake. Pain flared. She sat up. Her head didn’t throb nearly as much as it had after Kate stitched it, but it wasn’t ready for any pressure, either.

“No. What time is it?” She didn’t bother pulling the sheet up. Her jammies covered all the important parts. No cleavage. No scars. Heck, not much skin showed. She certainly wouldn’t entice him with her nightwear.

“Eleven-thirty.”

“That’s all? What have you been doing?”

“I finished painting the bathroom. I hoped it would be dry before you needed to use it again, so if you go in there, be careful.”

That might explain some of the light specks in his hair. She nearly reached out to inspect it, but stopped herself in time. As if she had any right touching his hair.

“No, I’m good. I’m hungry, though. Have you eaten?” She’d pretty much collapsed when they returned to the house, but even her exhaustion hadn’t been enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

“I made a sandwich. Want me to make you one?”

She shook her head and pulled the covers off her legs.

“What are you doing? Kate said you should rest.”

“I’m tired of resting. Besides, I’m not an invalid. And I’m hungry. I want some pancakes.”

He stood and offered his hand. “I can make those for you.”

“You?”

“Hey, I’m not totally useless in the kitchen. I don’t eat out every night.”

She took his hand and rose with care. “But I don’t have an electric griddle.”

“I don’t need one. Trust me. If you have the ingredients, I can make you pancakes.”

He led the way and as she passed the mirror, she got a good look at herself. Holy moly, look what the dead brought in. Her hair stuck out every which way and the bags under her eyes were nearly purple. She got hit in the back of the head, not the front.

“I think maybe I do need to use the bathroom. I promise I won’t touch the walls.”

“I’ll see you in the kitchen, then.”

She closed the door and waited. If the paint fumes didn’t give her a headache, Charlie would for sure, but Charlie never showed. Thanking her good fortune, Bridget unwound the bandage and brushed the knots out of her hair. Maybe she should have left it alone. One way to discourage a man was to look like a slob. She looked all that and more. Still, she was vain enough not to want to resemble a complete zombie.

The wall color didn’t look any different—her fault for not choosing the color—but the patch work was excellent. If she hadn’t seen the hole for herself, she’d never guess there had been one.

Someone knocked at the front door. It was nearly midnight. Who would visit this late? Rob said he would get it. She put the brush down and shuffled to the living room. Her legs were stiff from the bike ride, but not near as bad as the first time. Maybe she was getting in better shape after all.

“Who are you? Where’s my daughter?” Her father usually kept his cool, but he sounded frantic with worry.

“Dad? What’s the matter?”

He rushed to her and hugged her tight. “Are you okay?”

Bridget glared at Rob. “You called my dad?”

Her father glanced at Rob. “He didn’t call me. Who are you again?”

“Dad, this is Rob. He owns this house.”

The two sides of his shirt did not line up, since buttons were inserted into the wrong holes, and the tails flapped free. He had always tucked his shirt in before. If he looked that bad, what might her mother… “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s at home, sleeping. I got a call from my friend, Pete. Said he saw your name on a report and asked how you were doing. Imagine my surprise. Figured I should find out more before I told your mother anything. I know I should have called, but I had to see you.”

She pulled away and slowly spun around. “Well, as you can see I’m okay. Kate stitched me—”

“Stitched? You have stitches?”

“Dad. I’m fine. Let’s sit down, okay?” Once she got her father settled on the couch, she told him about getting hit, but not about being tied up. There were some things a father didn’t need to know. Rob must have felt the same way, because he never offered any more information.

“What were you doing there anyway?”

Rob sat on the edge of the windowsill and raised one eyebrow. Guess avoiding the question twice would be her limit.

“I was riding and when I passed the building, noticed it was one of Rob’s projects. I just went in for a peek.” Which wasn’t a total lie. If she told her father the truth, he’d pack her up quicker than a weekend carnival.

“You were riding your bike? Down there? By yourself? Why?”

Why, why, why. She was sick and tired of having to explain herself. Not that she’d done much of it, but still, avoiding the question had become just as tiring. “I’m not a child. I can go out if I want. It’s not like I went to a bad neighborhood. And it was daylight.” Her irritation must have gotten the better of her and she might have raised her voice louder than necessary. Her father placed his hands on her shoulders. Even Rob’s eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. How am I going to tell your mother this?”

“Don’t?” she asked.

“Oh no. I will not do that to her. I protect you when it’s necessary, but this is your mess and you can deal with her. I should have you tell her, but then you probably didn’t even plan on us knowing at all, did you?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m fi—” Rob raised his eyebrows in disbelief and she rephrased her statement. “I’ll be fine. Rob and Kate are taking care of me. And you know how Kate is.”

“Well, if Kate is looking out for you, that might smooth things a bit with your mother. But I’m telling her tomorrow, so be prepared.”

“I understand.” Life would be hell for a while. That friendship thing her mother wanted would probably be put on hold.

Her father looked over at Rob. “Why are you here so late?”

“Kate wants her woken every couple of hours. I was going to sleep on the couch.”

“Well, that’s not necessary. I’m here. I can do that.”

She didn’t need anyone babysitting her, but if her father stayed… “Dad, won’t Mom worry if she wakes up and finds you’re gone? The waking part is Kate being overly cautious. I’m not dizzy, I don’t have nausea, and I know where I am and what day it is. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m your father. I’ll always worry.” He kissed her on the forehead. “But you’re right. I’ll go and let you get some rest.”

Her father stood and approached Rob. “I don’t know you, young man, but if Kate trusts you with her, then I guess I do, too.” He took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a card. “Call me if she gets worse.”

Rob took the card and opened the door. “Will do, Mr. Quigley.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night, sweetie.”

Once her father drove off, Rob sat on the couch beside her. “I keep meeting your parents under unfavorable circumstances. Think they’ll ever like me?”

Her mother already did, the flowers he’d sent pretty much sealed the deal, but he didn’t need to know. He might take it as encouragement. “Is that important to you?”

“It is. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“And what kind of reputation is that?”

He stared at her intently, as if looking past her eyes into something deep inside her. “I’m the good guy.”