I took a step toward her—actually, toward the kitchen for water, but she remained in the entryway so I had to pass her to get there—but stopped as soon as the harsh, panicked gasp left her lips. She immediately covered her gaping mouth with her fingertips, her impossibly wide eyes glued to my right side.
“Oh my God, Cash,” she whispered beneath her breath while rushing to me. “What happened?” Not once did she look me in the eyes, but rather, kept her focus on my battered ribcage.
The second her finger came in contact with my skin, I winced. Although, it hadn’t inflicted any pain. I wasn’t sure if my dramatic reaction was premature, knowing how bad it’d hurt if she touched it, or if it was caused by the spark of electricity when her skin met mine. Either way, it had happened, and she immediately took a step back, her worried stare finally meeting mine.
“How did this happen?” she asked again, not accepting my silence.
“Hazard of the job.”
“You need ice.” And as if she were a trained nurse in the emergency room, she scurried into the kitchen, rummaged around in the freezer, and came back with a wadded-up dishtowel. It was clear in that moment she was a mother. A nurturer. A healer. And because of that, I dismissed my need to be a man, and allowed her to care for me.
7
Jade
Cash could act like a tough guy all he wanted, but there was no way he wasn’t in complete agony. When he’d first come out of his room, I was stopped by the sight of his dark, sculpted body glistening from his shower, and it took everything in me to maintain eye contact. The way he stood with his loose, black athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, he practically begged me to stare, and his bare chest called for my attention. But I held out as long as I could.
Finally, I’d given in and allowed myself a moment to memorize every line of muscle that acted like a roadmap to the treasure I convinced myself he concealed beneath his shorts, needing it to hold me over during the long nights I lay awake, alone in my room. But before I could salivate at the sight of his happy trail, or the deep V that disappeared beneath the elastic waistband, I discovered the fresh bruise on his side, decorating his ribs in a tapestry of deep purples and angry reds.
He tried to fight me off, but after a second, he gave in and allowed me to baby him. It made me question if anyone had ever done this for him before. I didn’t have a lot of information about his ex-wife—other than she was a disgusting woman who had cheated on such an amazing man—but I found myself curious if he’d ever needed her to take care of him. Everyone got sick, even macho men. And I couldn’t help but wonder if he was the type to work through the fever, suffering alone, or the kind who craved the soft, healing touch of a woman. From the way he relaxed into the couch and closed his eyes while I carefully held the ice pack to his tender side, I was willing to bet he was the latter…he just didn’t know it.
At least this gave me plenty of opportunity to stare at his naked chest, the abs I could literally count from across the room, and the dark hair that trailed from below his bellybutton to the waistband of his shorts. His arms were massive, but not riddled with bulging veins like most bodybuilders, which made me believe he didn’t bulk up for show. This was the body of a man who took great care of himself and worked out to stay in shape, not to win a trophy.
“Less than one hour into our agreement, and you’re already breaking the rules.” His deep, rumbly voice grated through the air, heavy with sleep and humor.
I lifted my gaze to his face, only able to see his profile with the way he rested his cheek on his fist, his elbow propped up on the armrest. His eyes were closed, but a smile curled his lips—utter contentment that filled me with comfortable warmth.
“And what rule is that?” I prodded from where I sat curled up on the cushion next to him, holding the ice-filled rag against his side.
“Watching me sleep.”
“Technically, you aren’t sleeping. So I haven’t broken any rules.”
He turned his head just enough to peer at me from the corner of his eyes through the tiny slits in his lids. “Then I guess I need to amend the agreement in the morning to include time of rest.”
“Well, smarty pants, what is it you suggest I look at while you’re resting?”
“The walls are a great place to start.” He let his head fall back, using the cushion behind him as a pillow, and moved his right hand from the small space between us to my thigh. He didn’t flex his fingers or make any uncomfortable advances, just expanded the gap between his arm and his side to give me more room to hold the ice against him.
“How’d this happen, anyway? You said it was hazard of the job, but I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around any situation a computer technician would be in that would leave him looking like he’d gotten beaten by a lead pipe in a barroom brawl.”
“You have no idea what I do, do you?” His lips still held the same teasing grin as before, his eyes remained partially open and set on my face, but his brow gave him away. Just like I knew it would, the wide, smooth space tightened just a fraction, enough to hint at an involuntary reaction to a hidden emotion. I had no idea what it meant, but something about it sent a rolling wave of sorrow through my gut.
“Not really…but you’ve explained it so many times, I figured it wasn’t safe to ask again.”
His tongue ran along his lower lip, wetting it and calling my attention. Thankfully, he closed his eyes and faced the ceiling, preventing him from catching me staring at his mouth. “I engineer infrastructures for communications using technology.”
“Yeah…you’ve said that before. But I have no idea what any of that means. In my head, you wear khakis and a red polo shirt while sitting in a cubicle behind a computer, talking on the phone to people who need help rebooting their modems. Oh…and in my head, you also wear black-framed glasses. Don’t ask where those came from or why you don’t wear them on the weekends.”
He started to laugh but quickly stopped when his face scrunched in silent pain, his left hand crossing his chest to cover the offending area. Yet his right hand remained on my thigh, only this time, he gripped it while forcing himself to breathe. I scooted a little bit closer—any closer and I’d be in his lap—and adjusted the ice in an effort to help him through it.
Once he got himself under control, he resumed the conversation as if nothing had happened. He relaxed his expression, yet never opened his eyes. “Well, a network engineer can do many things, but my job deals with towers. That’s why I travel all the time. I could be in Texas this week, Maine next, Colorado the week after. Wherever they need me, they send me.”
“Oh, I thought you did stuff with computers.”
“I basically do. We use computers to tie everything together and make it work as a unit. But at the core of what we do is a network. Printers, scanners, phones, radio towers, cell towers, internet…they’re all tied to a network.”