Seeing Red Read online

  “You haven’t taken any drugs.”

  “Then you’re penetrating the pain, an admirable feat. Why don’t you go for a run?”

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Odd, since before I was shot, you didn’t want to stay.”

  “Maybe watching you be so stupid changed things.”

  “Changed what?”

  It’d made her realize how fragile a balance life could be. That maybe living for the moment wasn’t quite enough. That maybe there needed to be sustenance too. Up until now, the men in her life had all been like junk food. Fun, but not necessarily good for her. Joe was sustenance. Very good for her. She ran a finger down the center of his chest to low on his belly, then swirled it around his belly button.

  “Red.”

  The word, uttered with soft warning, gave her a shiver. “You should let me get you something to eat.”

  “Stop changing the subject. What changed?”

  “Shh.” Her gaze held his as she ran her finger down a little further, to the edge of his sweats.

  His eyes went opaque. It might have been pain but she was willing to bet not. She began to slowly pull the tie on his sweats. “You’re grumpy,” she murmured. “I know you have good reason but I feel obligated to cheer you up.”

  “Nothing could do that.”

  Kenny had told Summer that Joe thought getting shot had been all his own fault, that if he’d only been quicker, faster, it wouldn’t have happened. No one believed it but Joe himself, and in fact, the doctor had said that his regretful, self-pitying thoughts might even slow down the healing process.

  That wasn’t going to happen on her watch.

  The bow gave way. Her eyes locked with his as she slowly slid her fingers just beneath the waistband of his sweats. “Commando?” she whispered when she didn’t come across anything but smooth, hot, hard flesh.

  His eyes were closed again. Sweat had broken out on his skin. “This is not going to work.”

  “Really?” She wrapped her fingers around more hot, hard flesh. “Because everything appears to be in perfectly fine working order.”

  “I can’t—I won’t be able to return the favor—”

  “But that’s the beauty of this.” She tugged his sweats down his hips, springing him free, smiling at the evidence that no matter what he said, he was in need. “I owe you one.”

  “Red—”

  She fanned her breath over him.

  He moaned, his fingers sliding into her hair as his hips arched helplessly.

  “See?” She licked him like a lollipop. “It’s kinda nice to lean on someone once in a while, isn’t it?”

  His answer was unintelligible.

  “I’m going to go make you soup and tea,” Summer said much later, when Joe was sprawled out flat on his back like a boneless fish. “Wait here.”

  “As opposed to leaping up and helping you?” he asked deprecatingly.

  “Hey, I worked hard to make you not grumpy. Don’t ruin it.”

  There was nothing but a thoughtful silence from him as she moved into the galley. Then, “maybe I need more work,” he called out.

  Her mouth twitched into a smile as she took out a can of soup and a pot. She hoped the fact that he had any humor left at all meant he wasn’t in too much pain. For days he’d been in agony, and so stubborn about the painkillers. Seeing him suffer had nearly killed her. She eyed the pill container on the small counter. She could lace his soup. It would get him through the night.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said. He stood in the doorway, gripping it with one hand, a crutch shoved under the armpit of his other arm. He was pale. No, make that green.

  She rushed over to him, backed him up to the bed. “Lie down.”

  “I’m tired of lying down.”

  “Don’t make me get rough.” She helped him stretch out, but when she would have left him alone, he reached for her hand.

  “Stay.”

  “All right, I’ll just clean up—”

  “Stay,” he murmured stubbornly with a grip of steel on her wrist, tugging her down until she was sprawled out besides him. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me a bedtime story. You were going to tell me what things have changed between us. It sounds fascinating.”

  “Joe…” She danced her fingers over his chest, and he let out a shuddery sigh.

  “Feels good.” He hadn’t let go of her other hand, but his fingers relaxed in hers. “Really good. What changed?”

  Jesus, he had a one-track mind. “Okay, maybe I like you more than I thought I did.”

  Eyes closed, he smiled.

  “Don’t smile. I don’t like liking you more than I thought.”

  “It’s not your fault, I’m irresistible.” He seemed to be drifting off in spite of himself. “Don’t go.”

  “I won’t,” she promised as he let out another exhausted sigh and went still. “I won’t.”

  Chapter 23

  Everyone took turns watching over him. Tina, Camille, Kenny, some of his other coworkers, and Summer, until two days after he’d been released from the hospital, he kicked them all out.

  He was fine on his own. Totally and completely fine. To prove it, he wrapped his bound foot in a garbage bag, secured it with duct tape, and got into the shower. Shaky but determined, he made it all the way through soaping up before having to sit down to breathe through the pain, the water pounding down on him.

  He had to crawl out and air dry right there on the floor. When he could talk, he called Kenny. “Bring me into the office. I need to see the files.”

  “You’ve seen them a hundred times. You lived and breathed them. Nothing’s changed.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that old warehouse fire. There was never any evidence found. The area of origin was ground level, beneath the loft.”

  “So?”

  “So I was there,” Joe said. “I know I was a kid, but I remember everything. That fire burned hot and damned fast. And yet the area of origin was nothing more than stacks of cardboard boxes.”

  “Flammable enough.”

  “Flammable, definitely. But not enough. There was an accelerant there, there had to have been. It just wasn’t detected.”

  “Okay, so let’s say there was an accelerant,” Kenny said reasonably. “Let’s assume gasoline, like the subsequent two fires.”

  “Right.”

  “But we’ve been through this. That would clear just about everyone except…” Kenny’s voice trailed off. “Shit.”

  With Braden not working, Creative Interiors needed accounting help. Summer’d had some training at the expedition company, as sometimes in the off-season she worked in the San Francisco office. She figured she could at least handle the payables and receivables.

  Camille was a self-proclaimed computer illiterate, so all help was welcome. Oddly enough, for the past two days her mother had been extremely quiet, wearing an expression of misery that suspiciously matched Kenny’s. When Summer asked about it, she hit a brick wall, and finally, she gave up.

  Every day at lunch she checked on Joe. He’d remained frustrated, grumpy, and mostly uncommunicative. She was willing to give him all three for the time being because she figured he’d earned them. She spent her afternoons on guided hikes or kayak rides. Word was spreading quickly, and she already had more calls than she could take. She loved it.

  At night, she went back to Joe’s. She’d pet a sleepy Ashes, then slip into bed with Joe, breathing in his scent, his warmth, wondering how in the world she was going to ever get used to sleeping alone again.

  “Maybe you could get a blow-up doll and paint my face on it,” Joe said.

  She went still. “What?”

  “You were wondering how to sleep without me.”

  “I said it out loud?”

  “Sure did. You said ‘how in the world am I going to ever get used to sleeping alone again?’ I’m just offering suggestions. You could tape my picture to your pillow.”

  “You’