Friends & Fortune Cookies: A Sudden Falls Romance (10 page)

I let the bed do the work of sitting me up fully. Careful not to jostle my ankle in its hard plastic removable cast, I swung my legs over the side of the bed with only a short hiss to indicate how much it hurt. The hospital gown — all I currently wore— had snaps at the shoulder and then ties down the side. Good news: I wasn’t going to have to reach up and behind me to untie something in the back. Bad news: I still couldn’t reach the ties under my arm without agony.

My dignity bit the dust. “Hey, Gracie. I...uh...need some help.”

She peeked her head in. “What’s the matter?”

“This sucks, but I can’t reach.” I lifted my arm slightly to indicate the ties.

She came in slowly and set her purse on the chair. “What do you want me to do?”

“Can you get me out of this?”

She hesitated. The moment stretched out, and I tried not to feel disappointment. “I guess I could call the nurse.”

She shook her head quickly. “Don’t be silly.”

She gently tugged at the snaps at my collarbone. The sound of them coming apart was shockingly loud in the quiet cubicle. All night I could hear every single noise in the emergency room. But now, suddenly, dead silence. Or maybe that was the blood rushing in my ears. Was that one of the signs to watch out for?

I tried to make a joke. “If I’d only known that all I had to do to get you to take my clothes off was fall off a roof, I might have tried it a lot sooner.”

“Joe...” Her voice was one part exasperation, two parts warning.

Ever so slowly, she lifted my left arm enough that she could get to the ties. The first one pulled free. And then the second.

I heard her breath catch. “Oh, God, Joe.” Her cool fingertips stroked gently down the front of my rib cage.

I grunted. Even my skin hurt. I looked down. Black and blue didn’t even begin to describe the color.

“That explains a lot,” I said.

“Are they sure your ribs aren’t broken?”

“Just bruised.” One more tie, right at my hip, and then Little Joe would be making an appearance. She reached for that tie and then hesitated.

Her gaze finally met mine for the first time since she’d come back in. The room felt charged, and the hairs on my arms started to stand on end. Would she pull it?

She did. And then looked away.

To either my relief or disappointment—I wasn’t quite sure—she was all business. Her hand disappeared into my pack and came back up with a pair of black boxer-briefs made out of wicking material. She knelt down in front of me— eyes studiously on my feet— and fed them through the stretchy material of the undershorts, taking great care not to move or put any pressure on the aircast. Pulling the brief up to my knees, she repeated the same procedure with a pair of sweatpants. “Let me help you down so we can pull them up.”

Her eyes focused with laser precision on the base of my throat as she helped me down off the bed. I braced my weight on my right foot. Her hands reached for the side of the waistbands of both my undershorts and my sweatpants. In seconds, everything was covered, and she took her first deep breath.

Slipping the hospital gown off, she pulled out the zip-up sweatshirt. “Tee-shirt’s probably a bad idea at this point.”

The idea of raising my arms up enough to get a tee-shirt on made sweat pop out on my upper lip. “Uh,
yeah.
”

Carefully, she slipped a sleeve over my left arm and then managed to get my right one in the other. I sucked a breath in through clenched teeth.

She winced. “I’m so sorry.”

The sound of the zipper sliding up coincided with the expelling of that breath. “No worries.”

Fortunately, the nurse came in at that moment with the paperwork, along with an orderly and a wheelchair.

I eased myself into the chair, endeavoring not to whimper. The painkillers they’d given me earlier had worn off.

“All set?” Gracie asked.

I was definitely ready to get out of the hospital but wasn’t really looking forward to going back to my place. It was bleak. And dismal. And…
Oh, God…
On the third floor.

The orderly waited with me while Gracie brought the car around then helped fold me into the passenger seat of her tiny sedan.

“You look really pale,” she said.

I felt pale. So much so that I almost missed the fact that she had passed the road to my apartment complex. “You missed the turn.”

“You’re going to stay with me, at least for the weekend.”

“Gracie—”

“For crying out loud, Joe. You can’t even put on your own clothes.”

She had a point. While I don’t generally like to be fussed over when I’m hurt or sick, I really needed to recoup as fast as possible. “You win. Thank you.”

Her gaze zipped to my face. “That’s the fastest I’ve ever won an argument with you. I need to make a note of this.” She picked up her ancient flip phone.

“You do know you can’t actually take notes on that thing, right?”

“Bite me.”

That gave me all sorts of interesting ideas that I currently had no ability to follow through on whatsoever. “Maybe later.”

The sigh she gave me was pure exasperation. I was possibly having fun, and given the stupid amount of pain I was in, that made me either a masochist or indicated I had a much more severe head injury than the doctor believed.

In no time, we arrived at her building.

Pulling into the parking spot closest to her door, she then came around to the passenger seat. “You’re not going to be able to handle the crutches today.” She indicated the sticks in the backseat of her car.

She took my hands and helped pry me out. “Just lean on me and try to avoid putting any weight on your foot.”

I wasn’t sure it was going to work, but I wasn’t about to say so. Too early in the morning to call anyone else for help. Her other option was to turn around and take me back to the hospital, and the only thing I could say to that was a big, “Hell, no!”

With some grunting and groaning and a little whimpering on my part, she got me in the front door and into a sitting position on her guest bed. Moments later, she handed me a white tablet and glass of water. “Here. Lay back.”

I nearly passed out from the pain in my ribs. But once I was settled, and she’d tugged the pillows from the right side of the bed to place under my foot, I was as comfortable as a guy with a broken ankle and bruised ribs could be. My eyes turned suddenly heavy.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit,” she said. Fingers brushed my cheek, and I found myself nuzzling into her palm. A guy could get used to this kind of treatment.

Chapter 17 — Grace

“There’s nothing that brings out the tendency to become your own mother than a man who’stemporarily helpless.”
~ Luddite in Love: A Cautionary Tale of Dating in the Modern Age,
Grace Mendoza

A final peek at Joe found him sacked out in my guest bed. The lump on his head had gone down some but left behind a bruise that covered most of his forehead and both eyes. He was a giant mess. And I was a lot squishier about that than was safe for my head or my heart.

Strong, cocky, flirty Joe could at times be hard to resist. Vulnerable Joe was darned near impossible. Earlier, he’d nuzzled into my hand like a puppy, and I’d heard the hard outer shell of my heart crack a little.

Closing the guest-room door with a quiet snick, I headed back out to the living room where my computer was set up. Fortunately, the office wasn’t expecting me until after lunch. I’d begged off to do
research
by way of signing up for an in-person matchmaking service called
It’s Just Coffee.
A real matchmaker pairs clients with each other for “just coffee”. Until now, all of the services I’d investigated were self-guided, online endeavors—some more thorough than others.

It’s Just Coffee
was the first where I had to interact with a real live human being. I was a little nervous about that fact. My purpose in all of this wasn’t only the articles, but also the hopes of finding a real boyfriend, preferably one without a history of ripping out my heart shortly after taking my virginity and one who wouldn’t be leaving in a few weeks. I tried, unsuccessfully, not to think of the current occupant of my guest room.

With
It’s Just Coffee,
I had to be honest with my name and occupation. However, for once in my life, I hoped I didn’t encounter anyone who had actually read my articles.

I sat down to work on my book outline and was pretty immediately confronted with the age-old problem of a blank page. Interesting because I didn’t normally have that problem with an article. But, somehow it was different when I had a whole book to fill instead of a seven-hundred-and-fifty-word blog post or newspaper article.

I tried breaking the information up into small chunks, and suddenly I hit my groove... right as I heard a thump from the guest room, followed by a muffled “
Dammit!”

Shoving the computer aside, I launched myself down the hall.

I found Joe leaning against the wall next to the door. He turned toward me when I spoke. “Everything okay in here?”

“God, this is humiliating.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I have to pee.”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “Well, I can help you down the hall.” Just like before, I supported his weight with my arm around his waist as he hobbled beside me. Together, we got him into the bathroom.

“You’re on your own at this point.” I backed out and pulled the door shut after me. Getting him into his clothes earlier was one thing. This was entirely different.

“You’re pretty squeamish for a nurse,” he said from behind the closed door.

“That’s because I’m not a nurse. I’m a writer.”

It seemed wildly intimate to be standing outside the door while he answered nature’s call. The toilet flushed. The faucet came on and then off again. Moments later, the door reopened, and Joe hobbled out, looking more exhausted and pained than when he went in.

“Come on, big guy. Let’s get you back into bed.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you ever quit?” And did I want him to? Between his pass the other night and this newfound flirting, I entertained ideas I had no business entertaining.

I finally got him back in bed and under the covers.

He reached out and grabbed my hand before I could step away from the bed. “Thanks for taking care of me, Gracie. It means a lot.”

I squeezed his fingers. I almost said, “You’d do the same for me.” But would he? I’m not sure. He hadn’t been there last year when I was trying to pick up the pieces of my life. But, of course, he didn’t know that my life had fallen apart. If I’d called him instead of simply holding on to my mad, would he have been there for me?

What about if I’d been the one to fall off a roof? Not that I spent much time on roofs. The truth of the matter is that if I’d needed help, my first call would be to Katie or my mom. But Joe didn’t have anyone else to call, except maybe Alex. I’d never really let him be there for me, so I couldn’t dismiss his not being there for me as one of his shortcomings.

That caused an uncomfortable twinge in my brain. I didn’t like the idea that any of our separation had been even partly my fault. Easier to be mad at him for all of it.

“I have a work thing this morning.” It wasn’t a lie, but I’m not certain why I didn’t want to tell him about
It’s Just Coffee
appointment. “Will you be okay for a couple of hours until I get back?” I tried to let go of his hand, but he held on tighter.

He was more on the ball than a guy with a head injury doped up on narcotics should be. “By ‘work thing’ do you mean a
date
?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. Not a date.” I murmured the truth.

“It’s an interview at
mumble mumble coffee
?”

“
It’s Just Coffee
, okay?” I tugged my hand away, knowing I sounded way more defensive than I needed to be at that moment. “It’s a matchmaking service.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to cancel?” I’d kind of planned my next article around this interview and whatever dates I might get out of it, so I didn’t really want to. Plus this much proximity to Joe was weakening my resolve to keep him at arms’ length. And my resolve didn’t really need any weakening. Not if I didn’t want to get my heart broken again.

“No. That would be... silly. I can certainly take care of myself for a couple of hours.”

But he looked disappointed. I tried not to let it bother me.

I abandoned the book, got ready, and checked on him before I left. He was out cold, but I left a glass of water, an apple, and a protein bar on the nightstand.

It’s Just Coffee
was twenty minutes away from Sudden Falls, inside the I-275 loop, but still more-or-less in the suburbs. I parked my car and headed into the steel-and-glass, five-story office building.
It’s Just Coffee
was on the top floor. A receptionist greeted me then offered a clipboard with several sheets of paper.

“Marci will be with you shortly.”

The information they requested wasn’t unlike the online dating questionnaires. “Name, age, race, occupation, salary, etc. Do you smoke? Do you drink? Do you have children? Do you want them? Hobbies, interests, etc.” I started scribbling.

I hesitated over my name and occupation then decided to be honest

The matchmaker came out as I was finishing up. She was young, slim, and pretty with caramel-colored hair in a perfect chignon at the nape of her neck. “Hi. I’m Marci Elliot.” She held out a hand with short French-tipped fingernails, which I shook.

The whole interview was a little nerve-wracking. But after we had made it through a few of her questions, I started to warm up to the situation. And to Marci. I really wanted to interview
her
. What made someone in her mid-twenties want to become a matchmaker? I decided not to play my hand yet. I could always come back to interview her.

“You know. There’s a guy who might be perfect for you! He’s an attorney who owns his own firm. He’s blond, nice looking...”

I insta-flashed on Joe’s face and shook my head to clear it.
No!