Wait for Me / Trust in Me (2 page)

“Damn weather,” Lucas cursed under his breath as he pulled into his driveway. He was returning from his monthly trip into town to stock up on food and supplies. That was something new; he used to have everything delivered, but with a couple of days of stubble on his face and a ball cap pulled down low, no one bothered him.

Glad that he was fully stocked, it took a little time to get it all from his truck and into the house. Once it was all inside and put away, he looked at his supply of wood. While he had a generator and knew that if the storm got bad enough to lose power, he'd be fine, he liked to be well prepared. Looking at the clock and seeing that there were several hours of daylight left, Lucas headed out into the backyard and toward the stack of firewood waiting to be cut.

The physical exertion felt good; Lucas knew that it wasn't in his best interest just to sit around the house. Swinging the ax had him using more muscles than he did in the average day, and while at first his body protested a little, it didn't take long for him to get into the swing of things (literally) and feel good. Even in the cold, he worked up a sweat, and once all the cutting was done, it was another chore to move all of the wood to the shed that was built onto the back of his house.

By five o'clock, Lucas felt a satisfied sense of exhaustion as he stepped back into the house, prepared to settle in for the night. The first flakes were already falling and it didn't take long for the weather to change and turn into a full-blown blizzard. As he built a fire in the main fireplace, a chill ran through his body and a sense of unease filled him. It wasn't like Lucas to feel restless. He'd grown accustomed to his isolation and found that he'd made peace with being alone.

His knee ached and his muscles were sore from exertion. He walked around the house searching for something—for what, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that everything felt suddenly out of sorts. After checking all the rooms and seeing that nothing was out of place, he found himself back in front of the fireplace. It was completely quiet in the house with the exception of the occasional popping coming from the fire. When his phone rang, he jumped higher than a grown man should.

“H'lo,” he answered gruffly, not even bothering to check his caller ID.

“Lucas? Are you okay?” His father. There were few things that Lucas could count on anymore but one of them was that his father would call him at least once a day just to make sure that he was doing okay and had a conversation with another human being. While at times it annoyed the hell out of him, other times, like now, the calls were a comfort.

“Fine, Dad. How about you?”

“Oh, your mother and I are up here by you. She is positively giddy about the snow.”

Lucas laughed. As much as he hated being cold, he loved the way the snow looked. He clearly had gotten that fascination came from his mother. “She always gets like that,” he said with a laugh. “You just up here for the weekend or staying longer this time?”

“Depends on the storm,” William said, his tone a little distracted.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, um, yes, yes, just fine. How about you? Do you have everything you need in case we get snowed in?”

“Today was my day to stock up so I'm good for a while.”

“This storm really came out of nowhere, didn't it?” William asked, worry now lacing his words.

“Not really,” Lucas said. “It's been in the forecast but it's just a little more intense than they originally thought. Nothing new for this area. What's going on, Dad? Sounds like you've got something on your mind. You're not worried about this storm, are you? We've lived through ones like this dozens of times before.”

“I know, I know, it's just that…” His voice trailed off.

“No, I don't know. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'll be fine,” William lied. “What about you? Are you there by yourself?”

Lucas laughed. “That's an odd question. Of course I'm here by myself. Who else would be here with me?”

Nervous laughter escaped before William could stop it. “What was I thinking?” he said, trying to sound lighter. “As long as you have everything you need. You'll call if you have a problem, right?”

Lucas pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it like it was a foreign object. Call if he needed anything? What in the world? “I'll be fine, Dad,” he reassured. “In case you've forgotten, I prefer a good storm; it keeps me inside where I like to be.”

“Lucas,” his father began, “it's not good for you to be by yourself all the time. You need to get out of the house more, maybe come back to work or…”

“I appreciate the concern,” Lucas said with frustration, “but I really don't feel like having this particular conversation right now. I just got done stocking the wood shed and I was just about to go and take a hot shower to ease some of the soreness out of my body.”

“You know I only nag because I love you, Son, right?”

No words could have taken the wind out of his sails more than those. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucas closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten before answering. “I know you do, Dad. I honestly do. This is my decision, though, and I need everyone to back off, okay?”

His father made a sound like he was going to argue, but then changed course. “Fine. I promise to back off. Stay safe during this storm and we'll talk to you over the weekend, all right?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Lucas replied as he hung up the phone. Shutting it down, he placed it on the counter, his shoulders feeling the tension from the conversation. Lucas couldn't understand why this was such a big deal for everyone. It wasn't as if he was asking all of them to stay shut in with him.

His knee was throbbing now. All he wanted was a hot shower, an even hotter dinner, and a chance to put a heating pad on his knee. It sounded like a good plan for the evening, so good that it sounded like what he did every evening. That thought made him frown as he walked into his bedroom. Sure it would be nice to get back into the land of the living again, but the life he wanted, the one that he'd worked so hard for, was long gone.

Some people would say he was lucky; he'd lived his dream for many years and he went out while he was still on top. The problem was that he hadn't wanted to leave: he'd been forced out. It was funny because when it had happened, promises were made to him left and right about how there would always be a place for him within the organization. Once his therapy proved that his injury was more severe than originally diagnosed and that he would be in treatment longer than anticipated, those offers came with less and less frequency, until the phone finally just stopped ringing. Lucas hated pity, and the fact that he was having a daily pity party for himself annoyed him even more.

Stripping down and stepping under the steaming shower spray, he let the hot water beat down on him as he sighed wearily. All of the tension eased from his body, and with it all thoughts of his previous life. An inner pep talk reminded Lucas that he enjoyed the life he had created since his football career ended. He finally had his privacy; reporters were no longer camping out, desperate for a picture or a quote from him. He could come and go as he pleased with little to no recognition. His time was his own.

In the last eighteen months, he'd agreed to work for the family organization, and while it was far from his dream job, at least he had the privilege of working from his own home, making his own hours while having something to keep him busy. When he wasn't taking care of Montgomerys business, Lucas had taken up photography, nature photography to be exact. The act of going out and walking around in the parks and the massive properties his family owned was therapeutic; at the same time, it allowed the creative side of him to come out. Both sides gave him a great sense of satisfaction that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Toweling dry and then dressing in a pair of faded, well-worn jeans and a sweatshirt, Lucas strolled into his kitchen and went about deciding what to make himself for dinner. That was the beauty of living alone: he could make whatever he felt like, whenever he felt like it, and then could eat in front of the television and have the remote to himself. It was some sweet bachelor living, and he was sure that the masses would be envious.

Reaching into the freezer, Lucas was about to pull out a steak to grill when the glare of headlights caught his attention. No one ever came out this way—he was set far back from the road—and in this snow at this time of day, clearly the person had to be lost. With a curse, he walked toward the window near the front door and watched in horror as the car skidded dangerously and then went off the narrow path of his driveway down into the ravine below.

“Dammit,” he muttered, running to grab his boots, coat, and phone before heading out the door. Once outside he ran toward the spot where he saw the car go down. It was easily a ten foot drop and he could hear the sound of the horn blaring as if someone was lying on it.

With another curse, he carefully made his way down and did his best not to slide and end up injuring himself too. “What kind of idiot drives around in a snowstorm after dark?” he muttered as he reached the car door. The windows were fogged and the sound of the horn was near deafening. He yanked the car door open and found the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Doing his best not to jar them too much, he reached into his pocket for the small flashlight that he always carried and jumped back in horror at the sight of blood coming from the driver's head.

“Emma…”

What the hell is she doing here?
Lucas's mind raced as he checked Emma for a pulse and tried to assess where else she was injured. She wasn't moving and that was killing him. “Emma?” he said, trying to keep his voice soft and calm. When she didn't respond, he said it with a little more urgency and held his breath, hoping that she'd answer him.

She didn't.

“Dammit,” he mumbled. The snow was coming down so hard and fast that it was a total whiteout. As much as he feared moving her, leaving Emma in the car and calling for an ambulance wasn't an option. Reaching into the car, he unbuckled her seat belt, softly whispering to her the whole time. As gently as he could, Lucas scooped her up into his arms and slammed the car door shut. He looked at the hill in front of him, wondering how he was going to get them both up the slick surface.

Cursing again, he said a silent prayer and slowly and carefully made his way back up. It wouldn't have been an easy task for someone in excellent physical condition; he was hampered not only by the snow but his aching knee. If it hadn't been hurting earlier, it was certainly going to after this little excursion.

It felt like hours but he finally got them back up to the house and once inside, he raced to lay Emma down on the sofa closest to the fireplace. She was pale, but the wound on her head was bleeding less. Lucas ran quickly to his bathroom and found his first-aid kit. When he returned to Emma's side, he tried calling her name again to see if she'd respond.

She didn't.

Having been an athlete his whole life, Lucas was familiar with how to treat some injuries. He cleaned the spot on her forehead and gently washed the blood away from the rest of her face. Feeling her hands, he could tell that she was beginning to warm up from being by the fire. Carefully he began to remove her coat and then went to take off her shoes. With each item, he checked to see if there were any other injuries that weren't as clearly visible as the one on her head.

Once her shoes were off, he gently rubbed her feet and then her ankles and nearly sobbed with relief when she made a slight sound of protest. He sent a silent prayer heavenward and then softly said her name again. “Emma?”

Emma felt as if she'd been hit in the head with a hammer. Clearly she must have died, because the last thing she remembered, her car was spinning wildly and then everything went black. The throbbing in her head increased and she mumbled, “Great. I would be the only person to go to Heaven and still have pain.” The sound of male laughter nearly made her scream. She tried to sit up, but found that it hurt too much to move.

“Shh…easy,” the voice said again. “Don't try to sit up, Emma. Tell me where you're hurt.”

The voice sounded familiar and Emma started to wonder what was going on. If this was Heaven and God was talking to her, wouldn't He know where she was hurt? Why was He asking her? When He asked again, Emma wanted to put her hands over her ears. “Why are you shouting?” she finally asked. “Everywhere. I hurt everywhere, okay?”

He chuckled. “That's my girl,” he murmured.

“What?” she whispered as she struggled to open her eyes and see who was talking to her. It felt like a hot poker was flaming behind her right eye, and it took all of her strength to sit up partway. “
Lucas?
” Emma looked around, confusion written on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replied softly.

“Where are your parents?”

“They're at their place. Why would you ask?”

“Their place?” she asked.

“Yes, their place.”

“So your father isn't here?”

“No.”

“And your mother?”

“With Dad.” A look of amusement began to cross Lucas's face.

Emma put a hand to her head and lay back down. “I'm so confused,” she mumbled.

Rising from his spot beside her, Lucas walked into the kitchen to grab some ice to help Emma's head. Why was she here? Why would she think this was his folks' place? And really, why was she even going to his parents' place? In all the years Emma had worked for Montgomerys, she'd never come to one of the family homes. What the hell was going on?

He put the ice in a bag and wrapped it in a towel before heading back over to where Emma lay resting on the sofa. She looked very small and fragile lying on his big oversized sofa. Her eyes were still closed and the grimace on her face told him she was definitely still in pain. As much as he wanted to find out the extent of her injuries, there was no way to get them safely to the hospital to have her checked. Lucas had no doubt that it wouldn't take long for them to skid into another ditch.

Back at Emma's side, he gently placed the ice on her head and she winced. The thought of causing her any more pain nearly killed him, but he knew the best thing they could do was try to ice the lump that had formed on her temple.

“So,” he began softly, “what made you come up here in a snowstorm?”

Pushing Lucas's hand aside, Emma held the ice pack in place. “I didn't know there was going to be a storm,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Your father needed some papers and we were all caught up at the office so he suggested that I take a long weekend.”

“A long weekend?”

Emma nodded. “He told me that to thank me, your mother made reservations for me to spend a couple of nights at a spa up here.”

“A spa?”

“Yes, Lucas, a spa. Are you sure you didn't hit your head, too?”

“What? Why?” he asked, confusion etched on his face.

“You keep repeating everything I say.”

“I don't mean to do that but the whole thing seems a bit…bizarre. I mean, why couldn't you just fax the papers?”

“Your father said he didn't have a fax at the house,” she said simply.

“He does—”

Emma cut him off. “Then I said I'd email them but he said he didn't bring his laptop. I guess your mom likes him to relax and step away from work while they're up here.”

Lucas was glad Emma's eyes were closed because the frown on his face would have told her he didn't believe one word she was saying. None of it made any sense! His father had an office at their mountain home that rivaled the one at Montgomerys. Why would he deliberately lie to Emma?

“Anyway, he was concerned that I don't take a whole lot of time for myself and so when he offered the extended weekend and then sweetened the deal with the spa, well, how could I say no?”

“What kind of spa?” he asked, even though he couldn't really care less. He was trying to keep her talking; the more she talked, the more he could tell if she had any kind of serious repercussions from banging her head.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Deluxe, tranquil rooms, manicures, pedicures, massages…total pampering.”

“And that appeals to you?” he asked, somewhat surprised, because Emma seemed very practical and low maintenance, the type of woman who wouldn't be interested in wasting time and money at a spa.

“Appeal to me?” she repeated. “Right now, the way my whole body hurts, I'd kill for a massage.”

“Not a good idea.”

She pried open one eye and glared at him. “How could that
not
be a good idea? I was just in a car accident and my whole body is in pain. Massages relieve pain, right?”

“On the surface, sure, you're right, but the reality is that the body needs to heal a little first, otherwise massage can escalate the injury.”

As much as she wanted to argue the point, it made sense. And if anyone would know about what would escalate an injury, it was Lucas. She knew he'd been through months of intense rehab and had tried everything known to man to get his knee back in shape so he could return to the football field. Unfortunately, nothing had worked. “Okay, fine; no massage right now, but as soon as this snow stops, I'm heading over to the spa.”

“That won't be happening any time soon,” he said with resignation.

“What? Why? How long is this snow supposed to last?”

“Well, considering that it was coming down at the rate of several inches an hour and it's been snowing for well over an hour…”

“Please don't make me do the math, Lucas. My head hurts enough already.”

That made him laugh. Emma had the ability to do that when no one else could. “Okay, no math. The last I heard it's supposed to snow well into tomorrow afternoon and they're predicting up to two feet.”

“That is totally not helping my headache,” she murmured and slowly sat up and made herself comfortable. She stared at the fire roaring in the fireplace and then at Lucas, who was watching her warily. “Relax, it's just a headache.”

“We don't know that, Emma. You probably have a concussion.”

“You really are a little ray of sunshine, aren't you?”

His expression was near comical. “Look, I know a thing or two about concussions, Emma. You hit your head pretty hard. You were bleeding. We can't get to a hospital to confirm or deny, but for right now I'm going with the likelihood that you do have one.”

“But I might not.”

“But you might.”

“Lucas,” she whined.

“Don't argue with someone who has had their share of bumps on the head,” Lucas said as he rose from the sofa. “Let me get you some Advil or something to help with the pain. Do you want something hot to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“Do you have cocoa?”

“Cocoa?”

Emma sighed. “Yes, cocoa. You know, the hot chocolate beverage. It sometimes comes with tiny marshmallows in it. Any of this ringing a bell?”

His smile made Emma feel as if everything was going to be all right. “Now that you mention it, it sounds vaguely familiar. Unfortunately, I'm fresh out.”

“Fresh out?” she asked sarcastically as a small smile of her own crept across her face.

“Okay, I confess; I don't normally keep a stash of cocoa in my house.”

“Not a manly drink, huh?”

“For someone with a concussion, you're awfully snarky,” he said and for the first time since she'd met him, Emma thought he almost sounded…playful. Lucas graced her with a smile as he searched the kitchen for the needed supplies.

“Water will be just fine,” Emma said as she watched him combing the cabinets for other drink options for her. Within minutes she had taken the offered pain reliever with a full glass of water that Lucas had brought over to the sofa for her. “You don't have to wait on me,” she said as she placed her glass down on the coffee table. “I'm fine, really.” She only wished she believed her own words.

While her awe at being in his home had proven to be a nice distraction, now that reality was setting in, so were some aches and pains that Emma hadn't noticed a little while ago. The ice was helping her head, as was the ibuprofen, but every time she moved, something else seemed to bother her.

Deciding that sitting idle was probably not the best option, she went to rise from the sofa and cried out in pain. Lucas was immediately at her side. “What is it? What's wrong?” Carefully he wrapped an arm around her waist and helped Emma sit back down. “Where does it hurt?” he asked as he scanned her body for any obvious signs of injuries.

“My ankle,” she said through clenched teeth.

Lucas cursed. “Okay, let's get your sock off and take a look at it.” His tone was soothing and although Emma appreciated his kindness, she was beyond frustrated with the situation.

The swelling of her ankle was obvious. Without a word, Lucas rose and went to the kitchen for another ice pack. “For crying out loud,” Emma mumbled under her breath. “Can I seriously not get a break here?” She flopped back onto the sofa and threw an arm over her eyes.
This
is
what
you
get
for
taking
some
time
for
yourself
. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling her that she didn't deserve to take a vacation.

She sensed Lucas more than she heard him and nearly jumped when the ice pack was gently placed on her ankle. What a sight she must be: large bump on her head, enormous ankle, looking like a drowned rat, no doubt, after coming in from a blizzard. Nope, no chance of this forced time together leading to any kind of seduction. Of that Emma was certain.

Where had that thought even come from?

“I was planning on making some dinner when I first saw your car pulling in. Are you hungry?” he asked.

The truth was that Emma was starving. Of course, eating as if she'd been fasting for a month was a sure-fire way to kill any hope of Lucas finding her attractive. Just the image of eating a steak with her bare hands almost made her giggle. “Um…sure. I could eat.”

Wasn't that the understatement of the year? She could eat? Luckily she hadn't added phrases like “a whole cow” or “everything in sight!” If she was going to fail, might as well fail epically, right?

She could hear Lucas moving around in the kitchen and forced herself to sit upright again. Thankfully he seemed focused on his task and didn't try to keep up the small talk. Emma allowed herself finally to look around at Lucas's home. It was sleek yet rustic. The walls were made of solid logs, the floors were natural hardwood, and the fireplace was massive and made of stone. It was an open floor plan; the living room, dining room, and kitchen were one giant space. There looked to be a small hallway off the kitchen but she couldn't see what was down there. A doorway next to the fireplace piqued her curiosity.

Part of that curiosity was fed by the fact that she really had to use the bathroom. “Um, Lucas?” she finally asked. When he simply stopped what he was doing and looked at her expectantly, she cringed at having to ask. “Could you point me in the direction of the bathroom?” Her face was probably twenty-seven shades of red. Ugh…