02_Groom of Her Own by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon [Hannon, Irene]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-10-17T07:00:00+00:00

“Sam?” he touched her shoulder gently, and her eyelids flickered open. “We’re home.”

Sam wasn’t really asleep. She’d been drifting in a sort of self-induced trance as she tried to shut out the pain that seemed to radiate through her hand and ankle. She’d succeeded marginally, managing to reduce the pain to a dull throb, but the thought of moving was extremely unappealing. Unfortunately, however, she couldn’t very well stay in the car.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Stay put till I come around,” Brad said.

Sam didn’t argue. She’d stay here all night if he would let her. But a moment later her door swung open and he leaned down, his face a mask of concern.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked.

“Well, the stinging isn’t quite so bad,” she said. Thankfully, that had subsided somewhat.

“I think I can read between the lines on that answer,” he said grimly. “And the offer of a lift—literally—is still open.”

She managed a shaky smile. “Thanks. But what would the neighbors say?”

“Oh, I have a feeling Mrs. Johnson would approve. After all, she thinks I’m your young man.” He tilted his head and gave her a crooked grin. “Come to think of it, maybe she needs her vision checked. Young is hardly an accurate description.”

“It’s all relative,” Sam replied with a faint smile. “Remember, she’s eighty-five.”

“You have a point,” he admitted. Brad knew Sam was attempting to psyche herself up for the walk to her condo, and he gave her the time she needed.

“Brad?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“I’m sorry about today. This really messed up your plans.”

She didn’t know the half of it, he thought But he’d make up for lost time later. “Don’t worry, Sam. There will be other picnics.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, we might as well go in.”

“How can I help?”

“If you could hold this,” she said, handing him the ice pack, “and just let me lean on you when I get out, I think I’ll be fine.”

Sam bit her lip as she struggled out of the car, then leaned against the door for support. Brad moved beside her and slipped his arm around her waist, and they made their way slowly up the steps and down the walkway.

By the time they reached her front door, there was a thin film of perspiration on her upper lip. As she fumbled for her key, the look of exhaustion and strain on her features convinced Brad that she needed to lie down as soon as possible.

When Sam at last withdrew the key, Brad took it from her trembling fingers, fitted it into the lock and pushed the door open. Then he guided her inside and toward the couch, where he eased her gently onto the cushions. As she sank down, she expelled a shaky breath and closed her eyes, letting her head drop back wearily.

“I’ll refill the ice pack,” Brad said quietly.

He completed the task as quickly as possible and then sat down beside her, careful to jostle the cushions as little as possible. He reached for her uninjured hand and she opened her eyes, giving him a tired smile.

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