14. Valerie

14

VALERIE

I hate the smell of hospitals.

Whatever cleaning agent they use burns my nostrils as I breathe in my nose, forcing me to do something my mother had chastised out of me growing up and breathe through my mouth. The air passing over my lips makes them dry. I moisten them with my tongue, wincing when doing so tugs on the cut splitting my bottom lip.

I gently touch the wound with my fingers, feeling the two stitches the doctor told me he’d put there. I haven’t looked in a mirror, but I can feel how swollen the thin skin is. Several scrapes and cuts mar my arms and legs from where the windshield glass shattered and flew into the car. It’s a small miracle that the only injury on my face is the cut on my lip.

The on-call plastic surgeon had dropped by a little while ago. He assured me that as long as I kept the wound clean, the cut shouldn’t leave a noticeable scar. He added something about the benefit of being cut by glass versus an impact laceration before he started talking to Dad about the upcoming Rough Riders season. The doctor had recognized him almost immediately, much to my introverted dad’s unease.

With a sigh, my hand falls back onto the pillow. I close my eyes and try to relax on the rough hospital sheets that cover the stiff mattress under me. It’s been a long night.

For the fiftieth time since the ER nurses and doctors have confirmed I’m relatively unharmed, I chastise myself for being so careless when driving away from Carter’s house.

I couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss and what could’ve happened if Andy hadn’t woken up and interrupted us. Would I have really given into temptation and slept with Carter?

I’d like to think I would’ve snapped out of the lustful daze before actually sleeping with the man I work for… I’d like to think I’m more responsible than that. But who am I kidding?

The moment Carter Jones lifted me in those strong arms and kissed me with those mind-blowing lips, I would’ve gone as far as he let me go. I’m only mildly embarrassed by that fact.

I’m more mortified that I’d let those thoughts distract me while I was driving down Rose Hill’s dark country roads. I didn’t see the deer running across the road until it was too late.

My heart aches for the creature. I only had a second to make a decision when I finally noticed him just a dozen or so feet in front of me. I’d slammed on the brakes but resisted the instinct to swerve the car. I didn’t know what the terrain was like on either side of the road, and crashing into a ditch didn’t seem like a good idea.

But despite my attempt to avoid it, my front bumper hit the poor animal. His antlers shattered my windshield when he landed on the hood. The police officer who responded to my 911 call told me it was no small miracle one of the antlers hadn’t punctured my chest when they broke the windshield—an image that’s sure to give me nightmares for days to come.

It all had happened so fast, but I can still see the deer sliding off the hood and bounding off into the dark trees. I hope he’s okay. I hate to imagine him suffering in the wild.

My car, on the other hand, is far from okay. The front bumper and hood are completely smashed. The windshield is non-existent. I was surprised when the airbags didn’t deploy, but the EMT who evaluated me in the ambulance told me they usually don’t deploy when someone hits a deer. Not unless they’re going really fast.

“The cafeteria is closed, but they have a snack bar down the hall with coffee and tea.” My eyes open. Dad walks through the curtains surrounding my hospital bed. He carries two paper cups that look comically small in his large hands. “I didn’t know which you’d want so I got both.”

“Coffee, please.” Normally, I’d stay away from caffeine this late at night, but I won’t have any problem falling asleep once I get home after I’m discharged.

I’m in a smaller rural hospital on the outskirts of Rose Hill. The staff here has been excellent. I’ve been examined, had tests done, received results, and treated far quicker than I would have in one of Dallas’s crowded hospitals.

Perks of getting into a car accident in a small town, I guess.

Dad hands me the coffee, keeping the tea for himself. He sits down on the pale green vinyl chair positioned at my bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Just tired.”

He nods. “I passed the doctor in the hall. He said he’d be by soon to complete his discharge evaluation and paperwork and then we should be free to go.”

“Thank goodness.” The nurse already came by and removed the IV that was placed to help replenish fluids and provide medication. Thankfully, my injuries weren’t severe enough to warrant pain medication, but I did get a dose of antibiotics. I’ll continue the treatment through oral administration at home.

I stare down at the brown liquid in the cup, wrapping my hands around the thin material to warm my chilled fingers. When I look back up at Dad, I’m surprised to see an uneasy look on his face.

“Dad?” I tilt my head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath and then sighs. “I did something you might not be happy about.”

I frown. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

He shifts awkwardly in the too-small chair. “I called Carter.”

“You what? ”

Before he can reply, I hear the football player’s distinct voice travel down the hall, flowing through the curtain that separates my bed from the others in the treatment area in the ER. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Valerie Palmer.”

My face heats. I tell myself it’s because I’m embarrassed that my dad called my boss to tell him about my accident. And not because I’m remembering the feel of his erection pressed against my stomach.

“ Dad,” I half-whine, half-groan. “Why in the world would you call Carter?”

“Because I didn’t know when you were supposed to take care of the twins again, and I figured he’d need time to make other arrangements.”

That… makes sense, I guess.

But there’s something about my dad’s expression that makes me think that isn’t the entire truth.

“But couldn’t you have waited until later to call him?” Like when I was back home and not a quick drive down the road from his house…

“Not if you’re supposed to work tomorrow,” Dad counters, not at all apologetic.

I blow out an exasperated breath just as a nurse pops her head between the curtain. She’s young and pretty, and based on the flush on her cheeks, she’s the one Carter just spoke to. “Excuse me, Ms. Palmer. There’s a Mr. Jones here to see you.”

I’m sure she knows Carter’s first name. Not only does she work in the small town where he grew up, but he’s a popular football star from the area. Kudos to her for keeping it professional, though.

If only you could do the same then this situation wouldn’t be so awkward. Would it?

“Let him in,” Dad answers when all I do is stare at the young woman.

I tell myself to pull it together just before the curtain shifts and Carter steps inside.

Between the linebacker’s broad shoulders and impressive height, the space suddenly feels too tight. I shift on the bed, acutely aware of my lackluster appearance. The mint-green hospital gown isn’t flattering, and the fluorescent lights surely cast harsh shadows under my tired eyes. Not to mention, the cuts and scrapes covering my body are hardly pleasant to look at.

I refrain from touching my mouth when Carter’s eyes zero in on the swollen lip.

The nurse murmurs something about giving us privacy before she hurries back to the other side of the curtain. Her sneakers squeak as she walks away, accompanied by the sound of beeps and chirps from different medical equipment throughout the ER department. I imagine her running to her coworkers and gushing about the handsome football player.

Self-consciousness rears its ugly head when Carter’s eyes continue to roam my face and arms.

“It’s not that bad,” I clip, unable to sit in silence as he takes in my injuries with that pained expression.

His eyes snap up to mine. “I’m so sorry, Valerie.” His weak voice takes the sting out of my anger.

The tension leaves my shoulders and they slump. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I knew the roads out of Rose Hill would be dangerous to drive at night. I should’ve insisted you stay over after keeping you so late.”

You mean after kissing me senseless so that I was more than willing to spend the night naked in your bed?

Aware my father still sits by my bedside, I keep the remark to myself.

As if having the same thought, Carter turns to my dad. “Thank you for calling me, Coach.”

“Of course, but you didn’t need to come down here.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without checking on Valerie myself.” His attention returns to me.

Carter doesn’t notice the contemplative look Dad levels on him, but I do. We need to tread carefully or else Dad is going to realize something is going on between us. Dad and I are close, but I’m not interested in divulging anything about my sex life to the man who raised me.

“I’m going to get something else to drink.” The chair creaks as Dad stands. He holds the paper cup of tea up in demonstration. “This doesn’t taste good. I’ll be right back.” He strides past the curtain without another word, but he casts one last glance at Carter as he brushes past.

Shit.

Any hope that Dad would let whatever he noticed slide flies out the window. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to bring it up to me. I need to figure out what I’m going to say when he does.

Carter takes a step toward the bed. My attention snaps back to him. He reaches out a hand as if to touch me. I suck in a breath in anticipation.

His hand falls away, and his throat bobs as he swallows. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Seeing his disbelieving expression, I insist, “I’m fine, Carter. Really. I got lucky. The deer didn’t come through the windshield after he broke it.”

“You shouldn’t have been driving.” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends.

“Where are the twins?” I change the subject.

“Still sleeping. I called my parents. They’re watching them.”

The question I’d planned to ask fades from my lips. I snap my mouth closed, not sure what else to say.

With another sigh, Carter sits on the edge of the bed. His head hangs in defeat. The urge to console him is strong.

Ever since he first brought up that I should sleep over rather than drive home at a late hour, I suspected Carter was one of those people who felt the need to look out for others—who carried the weight of ensuring everyone else’s wellbeing and happiness. Sometimes, to the detriment of his own welfare.

Now, seeing how much he’s beating himself up over my accident, guilt makes my heart ache.

Or maybe he’s upset about something else…

I chew on the inside of my cheek but quickly stop when it tugs on my stitches.

Does Carter regret what happened in the kitchen? What almost happened in his bedroom?

Is that adding to his miserable demeanor?

I debate not asking. I should keep quiet. But curiosity and a selfish need to know where we stand compels me to speak, “Look, Carter. I promise that I’m okay.” His head lifts at the words. I swallow past the lump in my throat and continue, “And if this is about our kiss, I promise it’s not a big deal.”

Aside from the fact it was the best kiss of my life. The only one that comes close is the first one we shared at the resort.

Carter’s face twists with a mix of frustration and lingering concern. “Forget about the kiss, Val. That doesn’t matter.”

The words stab me in the heart.

I’m sure pain flickers over my face before I can hide the reaction, but Carter doesn’t notice. He’s too busy staring down at his hands, flexing his fingers and curling them into fists.

“I can’t change my work schedule,” he states in a rough voice, “but I can try and see if Mom or Dad can come to relieve you earlier in the evenings so you can make it home before it gets too late.”

I frown. “You know that won’t work. At least, not all the time. Your parents are busy.” I’ve taken the twins around Rose Hill enough to know that Mr. and Mrs. Jones are highly involved members of their small community. Carter’s mom volunteers at the local clinic, nursing home, and library, and Mr. Jones serves as a substitute umpire and referee for the town’s little and youth baseball and football leagues whenever he’s not working.

That’s not to say neither one of them would hesitate to rearrange their schedules to help their son, but it wouldn’t be easy. Which is why I have the work schedule I have in the first place.

Carter knows I’m right, but he shakes his head in refusal. “We’ll figure it out. I won’t let what happened tonight happen again.”

I shove down the tender feelings trying to take root in my chest. Gently, I say, “What happened tonight was an accident. There’s no point in getting worked up over it.”

His head snaps up, and I rear back in surprise when I see the anger blazing in his eyes. “No point in getting worked up?” He hisses. “Valerie… you could have died .”

My pulse spikes. “Don’t be dramatic, Carter. I’m fine.”

His gaze narrows. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take measures to make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again.”

“Again,” I try to sound calm, but his reaction is testing my patience. “It was an accident.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you are acting so indifferent.”

“I’m not indifferent. I just don’t see the point in worrying about something I have no control over.” People get in accidents, but I shouldn’t live the rest of my life afraid it will happen again. That wouldn’t be healthy. Normally, I’m sure Carter would agree. But for some reason, he’s unable to think logically in this situation. His emotions are dictating his thoughts and actions, and it’s starting to bother me.

Maybe it’s because he cares about you…

The thought takes some of the fuel out of my frustration.

“You do have control over it,” he counters with a bite “We can arrange my schedules so that you can leave the house before sundown.”

“That won’t always be possible.”

“I’ll make it possible.”

I sigh. “Carter, please be reasonable. I’m going to need to drive at night at some point.”

“But it won’t be from my house,” he declares. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Ugh.” I toss my hands in the air. “Why are you being so difficult? There has to be a way we can come up with a compromise, but I’m not going to accept that I’m never allowed to drive away from your house in the dark.” The thought is ridiculous.

Even if Carter finds a way to make it so one of his parents can take over watching the twins in the evenings, things come up. It’s irrational to believe there won’t ever be one evening in the future when I will have to drive Rose Hill’s country roads at night. Thinking otherwise is just setting himself up to be disappointed. And frustrated.

I watch Carter for his response.

His features twist in a scowl. He looks ready to unleash a snippy reply but hesitates. A pensive expression covers his face. His forehead furrows for a moment, and then it relaxes. “I have an idea.”

I lift a brow. “I’m listening.”

“You’re not going to like it,” he warns.

Intrigued, I prompt, “What is it?”

“You should move into the guest suite on the bottom floor.”

What?!

“No.” I shake my head. “No. No. No.” I thought moving in with him was a bad idea when we first discussed my being his nanny. And that was when we’d hooked up without knowing each other.

After what happened in the kitchen—what would’ve certainly happened if Andy hadn’t woken up from a nightmare, there is no way living in the same house won’t make things between us even more complicated than they already are.

“Then I’ll arrange for someone to take over watching the kids for you in the evening,” Carter declares with determination.

“But that’s not necessary!” Ugh. It feels like I’m talking to a brick wall—a stupidly handsome, incredibly caring brick wall.

“Is it about money? Even if you take off early, I’ll still pay the hours you’d be scheduled to work if that’s what you’re worried about.

I rear back. My head bounces off the inclined mattress. I ignore the way the impact makes my head throb. “Of course it’s not about money!” I’m offended he’d even think that.

“Then what is it?”

Is he serious?

“It’s about us not crossing any more lines.” I frown and wince when I tug on my stitches for the tenth time this conversation. I need to be careful or else I might have to stay here longer so the doctor can fix a torn stitch. “Things can get… messy if I live with you.”

Hell, I’d hope they would get messy.

It’s one thing to lust after your boss and another to make a move on said boss. But to actually live with him? To sleep under the same roof night after night? That’s a whole other ball game.

Carter’s eyes search mine as he digests what I said. “Okay. How about this? I promise to not cross that line ever again.”

My stomach clenches with alarm.

He continues, “If I do that, will you agree to one of my ideas? I know you don’t like either, but I’d appreciate it if you’d at least be willing to compromise.”

I hate how he makes me sound like I’m being unreasonable.

Though, from his perspective, I suppose he thinks I am.

I cross my arms and think.

As much as I want to hold my ground and insist this accident doesn’t need to change anything, I can tell Carter won’t let that happen. He can’t let it happen.

If I don’t agree to move in, he’s going to stress about finding a way to make sure I leave his house before it gets dark. His focus will be diverted from football, and his career could be in jeopardy once again. Even though I know it wouldn’t be my fault, I still don’t want to feel responsible for that.

With a resigned sigh, I uncross my arms and say, “Fine.”

His back straightens. “Fine?”

I nod. “I’ll consider sleeping over at your house when I work late nights. Happy?”

“No.”

“What?” I glower. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No, you can’t just say you’re going to stay over on late nights. I want to redo your contract to one for a live-in nanny.”

My mouth falls open. I snap it closed and shake my head. “That’s going overboard.”

“I don’t care,” he says with resolve. “I don’t want us to just say you’ll stay over at night and then you forget something at your place so you decide to drive home anyway. Call me paranoid. Call me controlling. I don’t care. This arrangement makes the most sense while I’m in season and playing late-night games. Not to mention traveling for away games. You’re staying at your dad’s place right now, so it’s not like you have to break a lease or anything. Moving in shouldn’t be a problem.”

Except for the fact we made out in your kitchen less than four hours ago…

I search his gaze.

I know he said to forget the kiss and that he wouldn’t cross the line between us again, but could he honestly do that? I’m not sure. But why does it sting so much to think he could?

Because you’re romanticizing your relationship with him when you have no business doing so.

I’m a fool.

Carter is a professional athlete. He’s handsome, rich, and surprisingly down to earth. He can have any woman he wants. He won’t miss the loss of one potential conquest. Especially not when he and I already hooked up before.

That’s not fair.

I acknowledge Carter’s promise to not pursue anything with me stems from his desire to guarantee my well-being. He’s putting my safety over his desire to sleep with me. He’s being a gentleman. I should be touched that he cares about me that much.

And I am… sort of.

Fatigue settles over me, and I suddenly lose the will to argue anymore. Carter’s points are valid, and he’s effectively solved any issues I have with moving in. At least the ones that I can share out loud.

No way am I going to tell him my ego has taken a hit from how easy it is for him to resist his attraction to me. Or how I fear I won’t have the same strength. That would be mortifying.

“All right.” I exhale. “You win. I’ll move in with you.”

Carter’s face floods with relief. “Thank you, Val. This arrangement will be the best for everyone. You’ll see.” He reaches forward and grabs my hand off the mattress, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

His touch sends sparks up my arm and into my stomach. Butterflies take flight.

I offer him a weak smile in response, but I don’t trust myself to speak.

It’s official. I’m crushing on my boss, and now he’s going to be my roommate.

I’m pretty sure this isn’t going to end well…