Claire glanced at his vibrating phone. “Want me to talk to him?”
Graham shook his head and declined the call. Thinking quickly, he sent a follow-up text.
Sorry, a little loud where I am so I can’t talk. Everything OK?
It wasn’t a complete lie. Claire had the volume up pretty loud...
Dad: We just wanted to check on you. I told your mother you said it wasn’t a big deal, but she doesn’t believe us.
Graham had sent it as a group text with his mom’s cell, too, dammit.
Graham: I’m good. It’s mostly my leg, but I’ll be back to normal in no time. My roommate is a nurse, so she’s taking good care of me.
Mom: I’m the queen of downplaying medical issues and I want more information. What kind of leg injury, and what kind of nurse is your roommate? Is this Claire or Reagan?
Why did he think he’d be able to slip this past them? He was in a different state so it shouldn’t have been that difficult, but he’d never been good at lying to his parents. A twinge of guilt hit him in the gut but he stuffed it down because really, he was fine. He tried to be truthful but give as little information as possible.
Graham: I have to stay off it for a few weeks, which you know is driving me up the wall. It’s Claire and she’s an ER nurse, but is doubling as my babysitter and is keeping me on track. She could probably even get you to follow directions.
Mom: Sounds like a woman I’d like to meet. Why don’t you come visit and bring her along?
Graham nearly choked. His mom was forever trying to get him to settle down.
The one time he’d brought a woman home had been a disaster, but that didn’t deter her in the least.
As if she felt time was running out for her only child to get married and give her grandchildren, she’d been relentless these last couple of years. She’d clearly been paying attention anytime he mentioned his roommates, and taken note of their names.
Graham: Roommate, Mom. Not girlfriend.
Dad: She sounds like a great catch if she can keep you in line.
Graham: It’s only been a few days and when it comes to pushing the boundaries of medical advice, I learned from the best.
Mom: My situation is completely different. Besides, you’re my son and you should do as I say and not as I do.
Graham: Yes, Mother.
He dropped his phone to the bed and leaned his head against the headboard with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Claire asked.
Keeping his head against the wood, he rotated his head to regard her, his dad’s words scrolling through his mind. She sounds like a great catch. With those big, hazel eyes and wild hair that seemed untamable, she’d certainly caught his eye from the moment he met her.
She was also fun, independent, and tough. A force of nature.
So yeah, she was a great catch. Which was why he’d befriended her rather than dated her, because the latter was a surefire way to sever her from his life.
As he looked at her he tried to remember the last person he’d told about his mom. Or anything about his life growing up, for that matter. It had been several years...maybe even more than a decade. He’d learned quickly to leave that stuff off the table, especially with women.
But Claire was different, wasn’t she? She was his friend, and a good one at that. They had an understanding. She didn’t expect anything more from him, so what harm would it do to give her some? She wouldn’t take it any sort of way, and he felt strangely calm at the prospect of telling her.
That was a first.
He unlocked his phone again and sent her a text.
Graham: I didn’t tell my parents the details of the accident. I made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal.
She read the message and frowned. “Why?”
I didn’t want to worry them. My mom has multiple sclerosis and now that she’s older, she has flares pretty often. She struggles with being sick and my dad does his best to take care of her on his own. They don’t need the added burden.
He watched her face as she read. She looked over at him when she finished. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Did he detect a hint of accusation in her tone? “MS is a terrible disease.”
He nodded his agreement, careful to keep his expression even. Telling her was one thing; letting her see how much it tore him up inside was another.
“So what did you tell them?”
That I hurt my leg and I need to stay off it for a little while, but my roommate is a hot nurse/babysitter. Now my mother wants to meet you.
Claire laughed. “Taking care of you takes a hell of a lot more patience than when I babysat triplets as a teenager.”
Damn. And here I thought you were enjoying my silent company.
Something flickered in her expression. Her gaze lingered on the phone screen for a beat, then she lifted her eyes to his. In her eyes and in her tone, sincerity shone through. “More than you know, Graham. Even though you piss me off, I’m happy you’re still here to sit beside me.”
Her chin trembled, the movement so slight he would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her so closely. Without thinking, he reached over and took her hand.
She let him, and his brain immediately screamed, What are you doing? And just as quickly he justified his reaction. Easy. It just felt like the right thing to do. Comforting or some shit.
From her place at the foot of the bed, Gertrude whined her disapproval. Graham tipped the left side of his lips up, which was as much of a smile as he could muster without pain.
Claire ignored her.
Graham ran his free hand through his hair and wrinkled his nose. He grabbed his phone again and tapped out a text with one hand, for once thankful for predictive text.
Graham: I hate to ask another favor, but...
She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t pull her hand away. “If this has to do with sex, I swear...”
He shook his head.
Would you help me wash my hair? I’ve been able to do a decent job keeping clean otherwise, but that part’s not easy with my current situation.
Her eyes flicked to his head and back down. “Sure. Now?”
It felt pretty greasy, and he’d sit here and think about it if they waited. He nodded.
“Okay.” She thought for a second. “Let’s try the kitchen. The sink’s bigger.”
She pulled away from him and stood, and he took his time shifting his legs off the bed. By the time he made it to the kitchen she’d pulled a wooden chair over, the back up against the cabinet.
He made his way to her and sat, propping up his crutches before he tilted his head back to test the height.
“This is actually pretty perfect. Sit back up for a second and I’ll go get shampoo and towels.”
Gertrude trotted in after Claire left. She hated getting wet and usually steered clear of anything she knew sprayed water, so she sat a few feet away and cocked her head, watching.
Claire returned and laid a folded towel along the counter where his neck would rest, draped one across his cast and handed him another one.
“Don’t get mad at me if you get wet. I’ve never done this before.”
He glanced down, contemplating, then carefully pulled his shirt over his head. He figured it would be easier to just dry his skin if she got water everywhere and hadn’t really thought anything of it, but when he leaned back to settle in and caught Claire’s expression, his body immediately tightened with awareness.
Her gaze started at his collarbone and slowly, slowly traveled down his torso. Heat followed in the wake of her gaze, which felt more like a caress than a perusal.
Fuck.
What would she do if he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her across his lap? He’d be a shit kisser right now, but as previously discussed his hands felt great. He just wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe her scent into his lungs...
She swallowed and seemed to snap out of it, spinning around to the sink and turning on the water. It ran for several seconds before she switched to the sprayer and started wetting his hair. “How, um, how’s the temperature?”
He gave her a thumbs-up, his brain and...other things still focused on the palpable desire that had just passed between them like a downed powerline sparking and slithering across the pavement.