Read Online True Devotion by Dee Henderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dee Henderson
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lip split open again.
“Careful.” Joe reached for a tissue and wiped away the blood. “You’re going to be off coffee a miserably long time if you don’t let that heal.”
The idea was appalling. She could already feel the edge of a caffeine headache setting in.
He brushed her chin with the back of his knuckles, his smile sympathetic. “I bought you a Coke from the machine. You should be able to manage it with a straw.” He found it and cracked open the tab for her, rummaging for the straw.
Grateful, Kelly let him hold the can while her hand rested against his; she lifted her head slightly to drink. The cold soda felt good against her sore throat. “Thanks.” She studied his face, so close to her own, searching to find any sign of his thoughts and reaction to her words at sea and found only the clear gaze of a friend. That was very much like him. He had an ability to bury what he thought until he decided it was the right time to discuss it. But he would want to discuss it. How could she have ever made the mistake of saying those words?
“Sure.”
She couldn’t let the conversation drift the wrong way. She watched him set down the soda on the nightstand and curled her hand around the bear to give herself courage. “The cold water was brutal.” The sea had tried to kill her last night, had come pretty close to succeeding.
He looked back at her, studied her face for a moment. This time when he moved, he rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “I know.”
“Is it like that on your missions? The sea so cold it takes your breath away?”
“Occasionally.”
She dropped her gaze, plucking at the threads of the blanket. “I nearly gave up.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“You didn’t.”
She studied his face. He, at least, seemed confident she wouldn’t have. “I’m glad you got there when you did.”
He stilled her hand, turned it over, and laced his fingers with hers. She wasn’t ready for the contact and felt a sharp tug that what was a casual gesture on his part suddenly had a different meaning for her.
“Do you want to go sailing with me Sunday?” Joe asked.
She jolted at the topic, taken off guard by the request. “Sailing?” The idea was not a welcome one. She had fought the disorienting up-and-down and side-to-side motion for hours last night. Just the thought of being on the pitching deck of a boat made her fight a sense of queasiness.
“The weather is going to be nice, and you need to get back out on the water.”
He was going straight for the jugular. “Joe, this didn’t make me afraid. I’ve done rescues before.”
“Then you’ll have no problem saying yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. He was putting her in a box and doing it deliberately. There were times when his kind of leadership made her cringe. She didn’t want to get back on the horse that had just thrown her. “Are you sure your new boat—and I’m being generous with that word—won’t sink and dump me back in the sea?” Joe liked to restore sailboats from decrepit wrecks back to things of beauty. His latest find, which was partially restored, had only recently been out on the calm waters of San Diego Bay.
“You’ll just have to risk it with me.”
She understood why Joe was doing this, but it only intensified her nervousness. She didn’t know how she was going to react to the water, and she wasn’t sure she wanted Joe to see that reaction. On the other hand, if she was going to be scared being back on the open waters, at least she would have the comfort of being with him. He would above all keep her safe. She squeezed his hand, accepting what he was offering. “I’ll come sailing.”
“Good.”
She desperately wanted to change the subject. Sunday. That was soon. “Have they said when they’re going to release me?”
“Maybe tomorrow. It depends on if your temperature stays steady.”
“Tomorrow?”
Joe chuckled. “The hospital food isn’t that bad.”
“I don’t want to
“Careful.” Joe reached for a tissue and wiped away the blood. “You’re going to be off coffee a miserably long time if you don’t let that heal.”
The idea was appalling. She could already feel the edge of a caffeine headache setting in.
He brushed her chin with the back of his knuckles, his smile sympathetic. “I bought you a Coke from the machine. You should be able to manage it with a straw.” He found it and cracked open the tab for her, rummaging for the straw.
Grateful, Kelly let him hold the can while her hand rested against his; she lifted her head slightly to drink. The cold soda felt good against her sore throat. “Thanks.” She studied his face, so close to her own, searching to find any sign of his thoughts and reaction to her words at sea and found only the clear gaze of a friend. That was very much like him. He had an ability to bury what he thought until he decided it was the right time to discuss it. But he would want to discuss it. How could she have ever made the mistake of saying those words?
“Sure.”
She couldn’t let the conversation drift the wrong way. She watched him set down the soda on the nightstand and curled her hand around the bear to give herself courage. “The cold water was brutal.” The sea had tried to kill her last night, had come pretty close to succeeding.
He looked back at her, studied her face for a moment. This time when he moved, he rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “I know.”
“Is it like that on your missions? The sea so cold it takes your breath away?”
“Occasionally.”
She dropped her gaze, plucking at the threads of the blanket. “I nearly gave up.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I wanted to.”
“You didn’t.”
She studied his face. He, at least, seemed confident she wouldn’t have. “I’m glad you got there when you did.”
He stilled her hand, turned it over, and laced his fingers with hers. She wasn’t ready for the contact and felt a sharp tug that what was a casual gesture on his part suddenly had a different meaning for her.
“Do you want to go sailing with me Sunday?” Joe asked.
She jolted at the topic, taken off guard by the request. “Sailing?” The idea was not a welcome one. She had fought the disorienting up-and-down and side-to-side motion for hours last night. Just the thought of being on the pitching deck of a boat made her fight a sense of queasiness.
“The weather is going to be nice, and you need to get back out on the water.”
He was going straight for the jugular. “Joe, this didn’t make me afraid. I’ve done rescues before.”
“Then you’ll have no problem saying yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. He was putting her in a box and doing it deliberately. There were times when his kind of leadership made her cringe. She didn’t want to get back on the horse that had just thrown her. “Are you sure your new boat—and I’m being generous with that word—won’t sink and dump me back in the sea?” Joe liked to restore sailboats from decrepit wrecks back to things of beauty. His latest find, which was partially restored, had only recently been out on the calm waters of San Diego Bay.
“You’ll just have to risk it with me.”
She understood why Joe was doing this, but it only intensified her nervousness. She didn’t know how she was going to react to the water, and she wasn’t sure she wanted Joe to see that reaction. On the other hand, if she was going to be scared being back on the open waters, at least she would have the comfort of being with him. He would above all keep her safe. She squeezed his hand, accepting what he was offering. “I’ll come sailing.”
“Good.”
She desperately wanted to change the subject. Sunday. That was soon. “Have they said when they’re going to release me?”
“Maybe tomorrow. It depends on if your temperature stays steady.”
“Tomorrow?”
Joe chuckled. “The hospital food isn’t that bad.”
“I don’t want to
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