His Lover to Protect - Katee Robert Page 0,30
I’ll get the laundry started.”
“Laundry. Right.” With a nod, he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. A few seconds later, the shower started.
Then, and only then, did she slouch to the bed and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She’d known Luke was as damaged—like called to like—but somehow this new realization hit harder than that basic knowledge. Someone had hurt him, beyond the devastating physical injury. With each new piece of information she carved away, she was forced to face the facts—they weren’t nearly as different as she’d thought. If he didn’t think she was so damn worthless, they might have even…
Alexis laughed. Might have what? Fallen into a bed of roses and used their mutual understanding to heal each other’s brokenness? That kind of thing only happened in movies. The reality was that each person had to look inside themself for the strength to move past their issues. No one else could make that decision for someone else.
Life might be so much easier if they could.
Shaking her head, she emptied her dirty clothes onto the pile with his and set aside a pair of yoga pants and a tank top for later. It took ten minutes to stuff everything in and start the machine, and by the time she made it back to the room, Luke was sprawled on the tiny bed in just his underwear, a makeshift ice pack on his knee. The sight of him sent things low in her stomach tightening, and she stopped inside the doorway, not sure what to do about it. Her first impulse was to crawl into bed with him and use her mouth to explore every inch of exposed skin, but he needed to rest more than she needed his hands on her body.
She had no idea what to do with the protective urge that rose inside her. He didn’t want her help. He’d probably snap at her if she even tried.
He’s using the ice, which means he’s in more pain that he wants to admit.
There wasn’t much she could do for an old injury. Alexis wasn’t a surgical nurse, and even if she were, he’d healed. Now it was a matter of him coming to terms with his new limits and doing the best he could not to injure the weakened knee worse. She had a feeling he was having a hell of a time with both those things.
Alexis dug through her bag to find the bottle of ibuprofen she’d stashed in a side pocket and tapped out two pills. “Take these.”
“I’m not your patient.” But he still took the pills and dry-swallowed them. “You don’t have to baby me.”
“I’m not. And admitting that you overdid it doesn’t mean you’re failing.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, concentrating on reorganizing her bag. She had the strangest feeling like she was approaching a wild creature that was as likely to take off her arm as it was to run away. It wasn’t that she wanted Luke to pour out his heart to her… Not really.
To distract both of them, she said, “What do you do for work?”
He snorted. “Nice change of subject.”
God, he was so prickly. Alexis looked up long enough to shoot him a glare. “Yeah, well, you obviously don’t want to talk about your knee, and sitting here in silence isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Okay, I’ll play. Right now I’m helping out at my cousin’s shop. Basically, if it’s American made, he can fix it. Even if it’s not, he can probably fix it.” His voice dropped so low she almost missed the next part. “Don’t need two good legs to work on cars.”
She set her bag to the side. “Or a good attitude, either.”
Luke scowled. “I lost everything when that IED took me out. Maybe I’m not clasping my hands and singing ‘Kumbaya’ around a campfire, but I still manage to get out of bed every morning without putting a gun in my mouth and ending it all.”
“Is that really an option you’ve considered?” The thought of the world without him in it made her stomach lurch, but she kept her tone quiet and steady.
“No, damn it.” He didn’t look the least bit happy to admit it, either. “I lived. For whatever reason, my time came and went on that operating table, and I’m still kicking.” He took a sharp breath and seemed to struggle to rein in his temper. “I know I’m a mean bastard, and