her shoes. He’d taken her to the mall over the weekend and bought her a good pair of tennis shoes so her feet wouldn’t hurt at her new job. She’d protested the cost, but he’d eventually worn her down, convincing her they were a good investment if she planned to work at Cuppa Joe for a while.
“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet,” she said, coming to stand in front of him. “Was therapy hard today?”
“It’s hard every day. I think that’s the point, to make me suffer so I’ll be strong again.”
She caressed his biceps. “You seem pretty strong to me.”
Tyson smiled and pulled her close, kissing her long and deep. “Talk like that will get you bent over the bed again.”
“Three weeks.”
He sighed. “Three very long weeks. You know, the day you get the all clear, I saw we just stay home for twenty-four hours, naked, and christening every piece of furniture in the house.”
“Now that’s a plan I can agree with.” She smiled broadly, kissed him again, and then gave him a little wave. “I’m off to work. Don’t wait up. I know you’re worn out from P.T.”
That was one way of putting it. Roadkill probably had more energy than he did right now. Tyson stripped out of his clothes, removed his prosthetic, and used his crutches to get into the bathroom. He sat on the bench in the shower and started the water, needing to wash away the funk from sweating profusely. It was a testament to Dacey’s feelings for him that she hadn’t squealed and run away from his stench when he’d hugged her.
Damn but I love that woman.
Well, maybe not love. He wasn’t sure about his feelings for Dacey, other than knowing he wanted her in his life for as long as possible. If that was love, consider him head over heels. He definitely liked her, was in lust with her, but he’d never been in love before. The water beat down on his battered body, and he put his head in his hands, letting the water stream down his back.
Did Dacey want a declaration of love? Or would that send her running in the other direction? If he had to guess, he’d say that no one had ever told her they loved her, probably not even her parents. Which meant when he did declare himself, it would be special and something she would cherish always. Unless it scared the hell out of her. He wished Dacey had some friends that he could talk to, to find out what her reaction might be if he told her had serious feelings for her.
He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and used the crutches to hop back into the bedroom. In his underwear drawer, he pulled out a small blue, velvet box. He flipped the lid open and looked at the heart-shaped ruby in a white gold band. Before the night Dacey almost died, he had purchased the ring in hopes of luring her away from her life of prostitution and into one a lot more boring—that of rancher’s wife. But since she’d been in his house, he’d worried that if he asked her to marry him, she’d balk at the idea and think it was another of his ways of protecting her.
All right, so it might be a little about protecting her, but mostly he wanted her in his bed and in his life every day until he drew his last breath—definitely his last breath, because he refused to let Dacey die first. He wasn’t sure he’d last a week in a world that didn’t have Dacey in it.
Well, if that’s not sappy as all hell.
He closed the box and hid it in his drawer again before pulling out a clean pair of boxer briefs. He sat on the edge of the bed and put them on. It had been a while since he ate and his stomach rumbled, but he really didn’t feel like going to the kitchen and making a meal. And he sure as hell didn’t want to put his leg back on. His stump was fucking killing him and he needed a break. Using the crutches, he made his way to the kitchen, where he made three sandwiches and set the plate of food and soda on the table. There was no way he was carrying all that and using his
“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet,” she said, coming to stand in front of him. “Was therapy hard today?”
“It’s hard every day. I think that’s the point, to make me suffer so I’ll be strong again.”
She caressed his biceps. “You seem pretty strong to me.”
Tyson smiled and pulled her close, kissing her long and deep. “Talk like that will get you bent over the bed again.”
“Three weeks.”
He sighed. “Three very long weeks. You know, the day you get the all clear, I saw we just stay home for twenty-four hours, naked, and christening every piece of furniture in the house.”
“Now that’s a plan I can agree with.” She smiled broadly, kissed him again, and then gave him a little wave. “I’m off to work. Don’t wait up. I know you’re worn out from P.T.”
That was one way of putting it. Roadkill probably had more energy than he did right now. Tyson stripped out of his clothes, removed his prosthetic, and used his crutches to get into the bathroom. He sat on the bench in the shower and started the water, needing to wash away the funk from sweating profusely. It was a testament to Dacey’s feelings for him that she hadn’t squealed and run away from his stench when he’d hugged her.
Damn but I love that woman.
Well, maybe not love. He wasn’t sure about his feelings for Dacey, other than knowing he wanted her in his life for as long as possible. If that was love, consider him head over heels. He definitely liked her, was in lust with her, but he’d never been in love before. The water beat down on his battered body, and he put his head in his hands, letting the water stream down his back.
Did Dacey want a declaration of love? Or would that send her running in the other direction? If he had to guess, he’d say that no one had ever told her they loved her, probably not even her parents. Which meant when he did declare himself, it would be special and something she would cherish always. Unless it scared the hell out of her. He wished Dacey had some friends that he could talk to, to find out what her reaction might be if he told her had serious feelings for her.
He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and used the crutches to hop back into the bedroom. In his underwear drawer, he pulled out a small blue, velvet box. He flipped the lid open and looked at the heart-shaped ruby in a white gold band. Before the night Dacey almost died, he had purchased the ring in hopes of luring her away from her life of prostitution and into one a lot more boring—that of rancher’s wife. But since she’d been in his house, he’d worried that if he asked her to marry him, she’d balk at the idea and think it was another of his ways of protecting her.
All right, so it might be a little about protecting her, but mostly he wanted her in his bed and in his life every day until he drew his last breath—definitely his last breath, because he refused to let Dacey die first. He wasn’t sure he’d last a week in a world that didn’t have Dacey in it.
Well, if that’s not sappy as all hell.
He closed the box and hid it in his drawer again before pulling out a clean pair of boxer briefs. He sat on the edge of the bed and put them on. It had been a while since he ate and his stomach rumbled, but he really didn’t feel like going to the kitchen and making a meal. And he sure as hell didn’t want to put his leg back on. His stump was fucking killing him and he needed a break. Using the crutches, he made his way to the kitchen, where he made three sandwiches and set the plate of food and soda on the table. There was no way he was carrying all that and using his
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