Stop it!
“Everything okay?” he asked, tipping his head to the side, almost as if he’d heard her arguing with herself.
She nodded too quickly. Kept one covered hand clutching the lapels of her robe together, the other firmly on the door. “Yes. I was just about to go to bed. Is there something…wrong?”
His eyes narrowed to thin slits. He eyed the outside of her house. Looked over her head through the small gap in the door and into her living room.
Casey stiffened. “Nick?”
His gaze ran back to her. Rolled from head to foot. Not a steamy sweep, like she’d seen some men do at the club, but more of an observation. Like he was satisfying a curiosity.
“Cooking something?” he suddenly asked.
“Oh. Um.” Could he smell the lavender? She drew in a deep whiff without realizing it. “Just tea. I always have some before bed,” she lied. “Was there, uh, something you needed?”
His gaze settled back on hers, but she couldn’t read his stone-faced expression. Had no idea what he was thinking.
“There was a commotion at the club after you left,” he finally said. “Those college kids that you spilled beer on. They were asking about you, where you lived and stuff. That dancer, the one you don’t get along with—”
“Paula?”
“Yeah. Paula. She was talking to them. I thought maybe she gave them your address. Figured I’d drive up here on my way home and check on you, just to be safe.”
“Oh.” Confusion at his sudden appearance turned to gratitude, though something in the back of her mind screamed, Don’t you think it’s odd he feels so protective of you? “Thank you,” she said, pushing that thought aside. “I’m fine, though.” She tried a smile she hoped reached her eyes and didn’t give away any of what she’d dealt with tonight. “Just tired. But safe and sound. So there’s no reason to worry about me.”
He didn’t look convinced. His gaze swept over her again, but he nodded, as if he knew not to press the issue. “Okay,” he said, backing off her porch and down two steps, until he was on the ground but still taller than she was. “I’ll let you go back to bed then. Sleep well, Casey.”
He made it halfway down her front walk before common sense finally kicked in. “Nick?”
He turned slowly. “Yeah?”
“How did you find me?”
“Dana.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Oh. But—”
“G’night, Casey.”
Her mouth snapped closed. By the time she thought to ask just how he’d wrangled that info from Dana, he was already on his Harley, revving the engine. Seconds later he was gone, and all that was left was the sound of his bike whining through the trees off in the distance.
Casey closed the door with a click, latched the dead bolt and turned the lock. Still reeling from Nick’s strange visit, she wove through the house to the hall bathroom.
Her mind was a tumble of activity as she slowly peeled the clothing from her body, then climbed into the shower and turned the water on hot. Fifteen minutes later, with the mystery man’s blood cleaned from her skin and her nerves somewhat steadier, she wrapped a fresh towel around herself and went to find clean clothes.
Her patient was still sound asleep in her bed, in the same position she’d left him—flat on his back, with his head tipped slightly to the side, his dark hair fanning over her pillow. Why hadn’t she taken him to the hospital before? Tentatively, she walked to the edge of the bed and felt his forehead again. Finding he was still cool, she lifted the towel covering his wounded leg and drew in a sharp breath.
It was already healing. A scab had formed over the wound as if it had healed for two days already. Unable to believe what she was seeing, she lifted another rag on his chest to see that the gash over his ribs was healing in the same way. Another on his arm. One on his chest. And looking closely at his face, she realized the swelling had already gone down near his eye and that his scrapes weren’t nearly as fresh as they’d been only an hour ago.
“Just who are you?” she whispered aloud.
He didn’t answer. She knew he wouldn’t. Whoever he was, though, he was a medical miracle.
Suddenly more exhausted than she’d been before and too tired to come up with answers of her own, Casey replaced the towels and blanket and headed for the couch. She left the bedroom door open so she could hear him if he needed her in the night, but something in her gut told her he wouldn’t.
She blew out a breath as she lay on the worn cushions, pulled the afghan over her and looked up at the ceiling. A thousand questions raced through her mind as her eyes slid closed and sleep tugged at her, but the only thing she could focus on was his words.