He chuckled, that low, rusty sound she loved. “Good. I wondered if I could bring you dinner.”
She sat down on the edge of her bed. “Is this still about you thinking you owe me?”
“No.”
She waited, but that was it. No.
“Then—” her voice came out husky “—I’d love to see you for dinner. But you don’t have to bring anything, unless you already have it in hand. Half the neighbors have brought over meals, and several people from the library, too. Tell me what sounds good, and I probably have it.”
Cole laughed again. “I’m not picky. Whatever you feel like having.”
“Mystery dinner.”
“See you in a few.” He was gone.
She raced for the bathroom. Well, moved as fast as she could. This week, she’d hardly paid attention to what she looked like, but now she saw herself with dismay. Yellow and green remnants of a bruise lingered on the left side of her forehead. She had a pillow crease on her right cheek. She’d managed to wash her hair, thank goodness, and now she brushed it, but she couldn’t braid it or even manage a ponytail one-handed. Makeup… Why bother? She rarely had when he lived here, and he did see her about ten hours after the car accident. Her eyes must have been spinning like whirligigs.
Sighing, she slipped her feet into sandals and went downstairs, wondering how quick his few minutes would be.
* * *
THE FLOWERS WERE probably overkill. Getting out of his truck, he seriously considered leaving them on the passenger seat so as not to embarrass himself. But he hadn’t gotten to the point where wasting money sat well with him, and anyway… He’d swear he could hear his mother telling him he had to bring a gift. The pain pills Erin should still be taking ruled out wine, and Cole was willing to bet Lottie had dessert covered. Muttering under his breath, he scooped up the bouquet and started for the front porch.
He didn’t have a chance to ring the bell before the door opened. She must have heard the truck engine. Erin’s face lit up with a smile that froze him in place and stole his voice. He forgot how beautiful she was when he didn’t see her daily, and she looked a thousand times better than she had on Sunday at the hospital, even though tiredness left her eyes sunken and accented with purple crescents.
Feeling like an idiot, he wordlessly held out the bouquet.
“For me?”
“Who else?”
“They’re gorgeous.” She accepted them with her right hand. “I can’t remember the last time anyone gave me flowers. Well, the college did when my softball team won a regional title, but that’s not the same, is it? And I’m babbling.” She bent her head to breathe in the fragrance. He’d insisted on flowers that smelled good. “You must have gone to a florist.”
First time in his life. “Can I come in?”
“Oh! Of course!” She tripped as she backed up.
Cole caught her with one hand. He liked that she felt as awkward as he did. Her cheeks were pink, too. From shyness?
He followed her to the kitchen, noting the changes in the house on the way. The ceiling was a creamy white instead of brown-splotched and dingy. He couldn’t imagine how she’d reached the ceiling above the staircase. Damn it, he should’ve been here to do it for her. He could see her leaning out over space to roll on paint, the ladder slipping…
Cole shook himself. She’d done the job and hadn’t injured herself—at least not then—so he should keep his mouth shut. But he thought about how much the house still needed, and how he’d like to be the one to do the work. Unpaid, this time.
The microwave already hummed. “Do you mind slicing the French bread?” she asked, laying the bouquet carefully on the counter. “I need to find a vase.”
The vases, apparently, were kept in a cupboard above the refrigerator. Erin started to drag a stepstool over. He leveled a look at her and reached up to open it.
“Which one?”
She craned her neck. “How about that yellow one?”
Ceramic and gracefully shaped, it had to be an antique. When she filled it with water and arranged the mix of roses, sweet peas and something lacy in the vase, he smiled at the expression on her face. She liked them. Mom was right.