Plain Jayne (9 page)

“I’m fine,” she grumbled. “Just let me sleep.”

“Not just yet.” He slipped his hand under her elbow and waved toward the door. “Let’s walk a bit.”

“What for?” The throbbing started again, right up the center of her skull.

“Humor me, Jay. Do a lap of the kitchen, have some more water, and then I’ll let you sleep for a while.”

“I’m fine.” She pulled her elbow out of his grip and made it almost all the way around the island before she had to grab the nearest chair for balance. “See? I’m fine.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the door opened behind her.

“What the hell’s this?” Nick growled.

“I’m walking,” she answered, hoping if she talked quietly, he’d take the hint and do it, too. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Half naked?”

Oh yeah. No pants. Standing in the middle of his kitchen. With him. And Carter. And Linda. Oooh, she had eyes like Abby.

Jayne took a step, swayed, then made a grab for the chair again, but Nick was already there. He pulled her arm around his shoulders, then looped his arm around her waist.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Carter stood at the fridge, making a God-awful amount of noise with the ice maker. It looked like he was smiling, but that didn’t make sense, because there was nothing funny about this.

As she eased her head down on the pillow, Jayne curled onto her side, closed her eyes, and groped for the duvet that was like a warm thick cloud, but before she could reach it, Nick tugged it up under her chin. She didn’t open her eyes, but she knew he was still there; his scent lingered, and his presence was undeniable, even before the sound of his knee cracking into a crouch gave him away.

There was a slow crinkling sound as he pressed the peas against the back of her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” His voice, quiet now, was close.

“Hmmm.” She tucked her hand under her cheek and sighed. “ ’Cause you get angry eyes when you worry.”

“Jayne.”

“I hate …” She inhaled slowly. Good Lord, he smelled good. “I hate when I make you get angry eyes.”

“I don’t have angry eyes.”

“Hmmm.” It took some effort, but she managed to open her right eye for a second. “Liar.”

His fingers pushed her hair back, then he sighed, slow and long. “Can I get you anything?”

“Uh-uh. Go back to the Stomp. Go dance with Linda.”

“Lisa.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Her. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“Okay.”

The air shifted as he got to his feet, but still he lingered. She tried to stay awake a little longer, but it was too much, the weight of it dragged her down, down, down, until the last thing
she remembered was the touch of his finger as it whispered against her cheek.

Nick was still awake when his watch chirped the alarm at two o’clock. He pushed off the couch and padded quietly into Jayne’s room where she lay in the exact same position as she’d been in when he checked her an hour ago.

According to Carter, she’d be fine, and it wasn’t necessary to wake her up, but that didn’t mean Nick wouldn’t check on her. Every hour might be a bit excessive, but better safe than sorry. He’d already lost his wife to a stupid accident; he wasn’t going to lose Jayne, too.

It took all of two seconds to make sure she was still breathing, yet he stood beside the bed for a long time after, just staring down at her. She wasn’t as pale as she’d been earlier, but every once in a while her brow puckered in sleep, and given the size of that bump on her head, it was no wonder.

The second he heard her scream into the phone, he should’ve been in his truck heading for her store. Instead, he let her drive home and then gave her attitude when she was two minutes late. She was damn lucky she didn’t do more damage in that fall, and instead of telling him about it, she’d acted like she was fine to avoid his “angry eyes.” What the hell were “angry eyes,” anyway? And why did she think she caused them?

On top of everything, he’d thrown Lisa in a cab and dragged her back here, only to find Jayne prancing around the kitchen in her underwear. Even after Carter explained, there was no question Lisa wasn’t happy about it, and he couldn’t blame her.

With an exhausted sigh, Nick slumped down against the side of the bed. No point going all the way back to the living room again if he was just going to turn around and come right back here in another hour.

He reset the alarm, then slouched down a little, so he could rest the back of his head on the edge of the bed. He tried to sleep, he really did, closed his eyes and everything, but sleep wouldn’t come. After the four a.m. check, he started to settle back on the floor when her fingers
slipped through his hair and over the top of his head.

There was something in her touch, something that made him lean into it, even as her fingers moved down his forehead until she was poking him in the eye.

“Still angry.” Her voice was a slow murmur, full of sleep, and her fingers dangled over his forehead.

“I’m not angry.” Nick eased her fingers away from his eyes and pushed her hand back so it rested on the top of his head. “Get some sleep.”

A muffled snort sounded against her pillow. “Says the guy who’s been sitting on the floor keeping vigil all night.”

“Not
all
night.”

“Close enough.” Her hand slid down the back of his head with the bare whisper of a touch, but he felt it all the way down to his toes. “Look, I feel stupid enough about this, and having you camp out on the floor there isn’t helping.”

Complete sentences and no more slurred words. Good sign, right? Still. What if she started bleeding out of her ear while he was on the other side of the house? It could happen.

As if she’d read his mind, Jayne growled. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, reluctantly pushing to his feet. “I’ve heard geese fart before.”

A soft chuckle floated off her lips. “I’ve never understood what that meant.”

“It means shut up and go back to sleep.” With a final sigh, he shuffled out to the living room and flopped down on the cushions, using the armrest as a pillow. He wasn’t going to sleep, he was just going to lie there and listen for the first sound of trouble.

It was a good plan, right up until he fell asleep.

As he came to, several things occurred to him before he even opened his eyes. The first was that he was sleeping on the couch, which he never did, the second was that he was under the blanket fully dressed, which hadn’t happened since he slept in Superman pajamas, and the third was that he wasn’t alone.

One at a time, he opened his eyes to find Jayne perched on the cushion by his feet. Still a little pale, she’d pulled her hair back in one of those plastic claw things, and had, at some point, put on a pair of sweats.

“Morning, sunshine.” She tried to hide her smirk behind her coffee mug. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm.” Nick rolled onto his back and tried to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes.
“How’re you feeling?”

“Better.”

“And the goose egg?”

“Barely the size of a golf ball.”

“Good.” He blinked slowly, sat up, then reached for her mug. “Black?”

A faint blush covered her cheeks as she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Figured after last night, I’d better avoid any unnecessary additives.”

“Good idea.” The coffee was strong and plenty hot, which meant it was fresh, and that there was probably more in the pot. Thank God. “Is Carter up?”

“He went home; said he had some stuff to do before his shift at the hospital.”

Just as well. With Carter back at his own apartment in the city, Nick might have time to get over the idea of him taking off Jayne’s jeans last night. The rational side of his brain, the side that would trust Carter with his life, knew he was just being stupid. But the not-so-rational side, the side that knew Carter went through women like he went through tongue depressors …
and the fact that this was Jayne
 … that side twitched.

Nick threw back the blanket, swung his legs over the side of the couch, and stretched to a stand.

“Come on,” he mumbled. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“It’s after nine, Nick. I already ate.”

“It’s what?” Not just after nine, but pushing half past. When was the last time he’d slept past seven? “Well, shit.”

She followed him out to the kitchen and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.

“Sorry about last night.” She tried to smile, but it looked more like a wince. “But in my defense, if the first Tylenol had worked like I thought it would, I never would have taken the other ones. They should really put some kind of warning on those prescription bottles.”

“They do,” he chuckled. “In bright red and yellow stickers.”

Her cheeks pinked a little deeper. “Okay, so it was stupid, but not as stupid as you spending half the night on the floor in case I swallowed my tongue.”

Nick almost corrected her, but changed his mind before the words could form; after all, she could have just as easily swallowed her tongue as bled out of her ear. He poured himself some more coffee, then leaned back against the counter and watched her rub the rim of her mug.

“You’re not shittin’ me this time, right? You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” When she finally looked up at him, the only thing her blue eyes gave away was her embarrassment over it all, but he watched for a few more seconds just to be sure there was no flicker of pain she was trying to hide. “The amazing Dr. Scott checked me over this morning and gave me two thumbs up. Really. I’m fine. Or I will be once I go have a shower.”

She tipped her mug in a small salute and started to walk away.

“Hang on a second.” He ducked into his bedroom and returned with the shopping bag he’d had since yesterday morning. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

He had to push the bag into her hands before she’d take it. “Open it and see.”

He waited until she’d pulled the thick purple robe out of the bag and held it up.

“I just figured … when Katie’s having a hard time, she likes to curl up in hers, and I figured if anyone deserved a little curl-up time, it was you.”

She hugged the robe to her chest and smiled, but it was one of those weird Jayne smiles that started out as a slow quiver and wobbled until she managed to get hold of it. There was something about those smiles that always left Nick wishing he could do more for her.

On the one hand, it was cute that something as simple as a robe could make her that happy, but on the other hand … it was kind of sad. It was just a stupid robe.

He dragged his toe against the floor and shrugged. “Can’t go wrong with purple, right?”

After another couple of seconds, her smile evened out and she looked up at him. “The boy remembered.”

Of course he remembered. He remembered all kinds of things, like when they were eight and he made her that stupid dandelion necklace; she’d worn it everywhere as though it was the Hope diamond instead of wilting yellow weeds. Or the way he felt when he finally realized the reason she never invited him to her birthday parties was because she’d never had one. Or the look on her face when he’d given her that song for her sixteenth birthday.

“Listen. About last night.” Nick shuffled his feet a bit but couldn’t find a comfortable stance. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Forget it.” Typical Jayne, cutting him off before the conversation got too personal.

He blew out a slow breath and grimaced up at her. “It’s still your song, Jayne.”

“No it’s not. Not anymore.” Jayne’s smile faded to pale, but she managed to cling to the
ends of it. “It’s okay, Nick. Lisa … it
is
Lisa, right? … she seems sweet and I don’t want to cause any of the problems I caused between you and Abby.”

“You’re not.”

“Right. Okay.” As if the eye roll wasn’t enough, she added a soft snort for good measure. “My point is, I’m going to do whatever I can to get on her good side, so if that means giving up my song, then … whatever. It’s fine.” It wasn’t even close to being fine, but there was no way to change it, so the only thing to do now was to move on.

*  *  *

There weren’t nearly as many logging trucks in the parade as there used to be, but there were plenty of other entries; everything from the Shriners on their little motorbikes to the local pipe band decked out in their finest tartan to Bobby the Coast Guard safety boat. And right up front was Edith Goodsen, leading the way in her chauffeur-driven convertible Mustang.

“Too bad Lisa couldn’t be here,” Jayne said. “What time is she done at the trade show?”

“Not till this afternoon.” A wave of guilt crashed over Nick; if Lisa had come to watch the parade, they would have watched from under a tree in the park where it was shady and less crowded instead of sitting there on the curb where he always sat, the sun warming his back, his best friend sitting next to him, waving at everyone on the floats.

Nick tipped his chin up and laughed as the ladder truck drove by. The same guys who’d kicked his ass in the bed races now hung off the side of the shiny red ladder truck, sirens wailing as they tossed candy to the kids on the sidewalk.

Behind them came a group from the library handing out bookmarks, a couple of teens riding unicycles, and then the clean-up crew who gathered up the orange cones and stacked them in the back of the Search and Rescue command vehicle.

“Pop’s grilling steaks tonight, so if you’re feeling okay—”

“I feel fine,” Jayne snorted. “But there’s no way I’m going anywhere near your mom’s house tonight—are you crazy?”

“Why not?” Nick held out his hand to help her stand but she pushed herself up and brushed the dirt from her butt. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she was purposely not looking at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the store window,
trying not to laugh at her. “Jayne, are you still scared of my mom?”

“I’m not
scared
of her, Nick.” She lifted her shoulders nonchalantly, but he wasn’t fooled for a second. “I just need a bit more time to recover from last night before I subject myself to the wrath of Debra Scott.”