Waiting for Wednesday Page 4

  He closed his eyes, nodding slowly, praying her words were the truth. Somehow she’d found just the right words to calm him down. Pop wouldn’t die. Pop would recover.

  “He’ll be fine,” he repeated aloud before leaving the car.

  * * * * *

  Several tense hours passed as he and his siblings awaited word on Pop’s welfare. Lane stayed with them, making endless trips for coffee and getting status updates from the nurses on duty with whom she used to work.

  His pop had indeed suffered a stroke, and he was currently with a physician who was administering a clot-busting drug. The good news was, the stroke had been relatively mild and, though he would require rehabilitation and care, he was expected to make a full recovery. The doctor praised them for their quick response and for getting him to the hospital so quickly. Tris knew they had Lane to thank for that.

  It was so late it was early, and they were currently taking turns visiting Pop before returning home. They’d decided to go in small groups so as not to overwhelm him. Will and Keira were with Pop now while the rest of them remained in the waiting room.

  Throughout the evening Lane had remained unruffled and Tris realized her reaction to the situation had helped keep his fairly excitable family calm. He watched as she handed Ewan a cup of coffee, saying something that made his brother laugh. She turned and he caught the slight wince on her face.

  Damn shoes. He’d forgotten. He rose, grasping her hand. “Sit down before you fall down,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I’m fine, Tris.”

  “You’re dead on your feet and torturing yourself in those shoes. They aren’t practical.”

  She laughed. “They aren’t practical for a night with the Collins clan, that’s for damn sure. In any other situation, they’re just fine. When I left home tonight, I thought I’d be sipping a glass of wine at the bar. I had no idea I’d be tending said bar and hanging out in the emergency room until the wee hours of the morning. You sure do know how to show a girl a good time, Tristan Collins.”

  He grinned, too tired to even chuckle at her joke. “You were a godsend tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She tensed up for a moment, but he kept applying pressure until she relaxed into his hold.

  “I’m a nurse,” she said, as if that simple statement should explain it all.

  “It was more than that and you know it. I’m not sure how this night would have gone if you hadn’t been here.” Although he certainly had some idea, as he pictured his sisters crying inconsolably and he and his brothers ranting and raving at every poor medical professional they could find.

  Keira and Will entered the room as Teagan and Sky stood to take their turn visiting Pop. Keira smiled tiredly at Lane and Tris, turning to whisper something to Will before crossing the room to join them.

  “Lane, I hope to hell my brother is thanking you for all you’ve done tonight.”

  “He is,” Lane assured her.

  “I spoke with the doctor after seeing Pop. He said even after he’s released, he’s going to need care.”

  Lane nodded. “That’s true.”

  “I know you’re a nurse,” Keira said, “and between jobs. I was wondering…well, I was hoping you would consider coming to stay at the apartment for a while to take care of Pop. We’d pay you, of course,” she added quickly when Lane appeared ready to refuse.

  “I’m flattered by the offer, but—”

  “Pop knows you. He’ll be comfortable with you and I know he’d prefer to be at home versus a rehabilitation center. Please say you’ll consider it,” Keira pressed. “He’ll still be here for a few more days. If you agree, you can move in the day after tomorrow and be settled by the time Pop is released. I know there isn’t a lot of room in the apartment, but I’m sure with some juggling—”

  Riley had come over in the midst of Keira’s speech, quickly picking up the gist of the conversation. “You can stay in my room with me. Or Tris can bunk in with Ewan and you can stay in the attic room. Of course, that would probably be too far away from Pop.”

  “All of that can be worked out. We can arrange the rooms however you think best,” Keira interjected.

  “I’ll think about it.” Lane’s tone suggested she would say anything to escape this discussion.

  “You will?” Keira asked, disbelief lacing her voice.

  “Yes. I will. Promise.”

  “Wonderful. Well, Will’s gone to get the car. I’m pooped. Want a ride home, Riley?”

  “Hell yeah. I’m done in.”

  “I’ll talk to you in the morning, Tris,” Keira said.

  “Bye, sis,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you at home, Riley.”

  They watched his sisters leave before Lane turned to him.

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. You should. I really wish you would.” His tone was somewhat pleading, but he was too tired to give a shit. Lane had saved him tonight and the idea of having her close at hand while Pop recovered was the answer to a prayer.

  His words seemed to take some of the wind out of her sails. “I just—”

  “Think about it,” he said, cutting her off again. “You’re between jobs. You don’t have an apartment yet. You could take your time looking for both those things while taking care of Pop. I don’t know what else to say to convince you, Lane, other than please. We need you. I need you.”

  She sighed tiredly before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Three

  Tris and Ewan carried her suitcases upstairs to the Collins apartment, and Lane tried to sort out what the hell was going on in her body. Her stomach was full of butterflies, her heart racing, her hands shaking and her head pounding. This could not be a good sign. What was she thinking to agree to such an arrangement? She followed the brothers’ progress down the hall as they put her belongings in Riley’s room.

  She’d elected to room with Tristan’s sister—despite the potential problems involved with that decision—rather than ask Tris to uproot and move into Ewan’s room. For one thing, she really did feel she should be close to Mr. Collins, especially during his first few days home. Secondly—and most importantly—she thought there might be some protection in staying with Riley. Surely Tris wouldn’t try to sneak into her bed with his sister sleeping a few feet away. She would have to figure out how to stay away from Tris until she managed to control her attraction to him.

  It had been four days since his pop’s stroke. Tris had been working double shifts at the pub and visiting his father in the hospital, so they hadn’t had more than a few minutes to talk about her new position in his family’s household and they’d had no time to talk about what had happened on the couch. If his family hadn’t come upstairs when they had, she would have had sex with him.

  Tris came out of the room with a too-pleased grin on his face and she wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. He continued toward her, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and holding her close. She struggled when Ewan followed Tris into the living room, but her big-as-a-mountain friend refused to release her. Short of kneeing him in the balls, which she seriously considered, she saw no way to avoid his grip.

  Ewan smiled at them, shaking his head. “Are you two going to need a chaperone?”

  “I won’t. Tris might,” she said as Tris released her and gave his brother a dirty look.

  “I’ll bear that in mind. I’ve got some work to do in the restaurant office. Freaking tax time. Kicks my ass every year. You coming, Tris?” Ewan asked.

  “I’ll be down in a bit,” Tris said.

  Ewan pretended to give Tris a stern look before grinning at her. She rolled her eyes as he headed downstairs, chuckling to himself. Riley was already in the restaurant kitchen working on the lunch special, which left her alone with Tris.

  She took a deep breath and prepared to issue the speech she’d been practicing for days. “Tris—”

  “Save your breath, Lane.”


  “What?” She was taken off guard by his no-nonsense demeanor.

  “You intend to warn me off. Tell me how you’re here to serve as my pop’s nurse and that’s all. You’ll mention how you just got out of a crappy marriage and you’ll probably build up to some bullshit about being free and enjoying it and then you’ll wind down with the old ‘I’m not interested in a relationship right now’ line.”

  She stared at him, dumbstruck.

  “How’d I do?” he asked with a cocky grin.

  She sucked in an angry breath at his smug attitude. “Wanna play, do you?”

  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Play?”

  “Since you think you’ve got me all figured out, why don’t I take a stab at you? Let’s see. You’ll probably push your chest out like a cocky bastard and strut a little.” She threw her shoulders back to illustrate her point.

  He chuckled at her imitation. “Damn, sweetheart. I sure do like the way I look on you.” His gaze fell to her out-thrust breasts and she groaned.

  “Ugh. You’re so frustrating.”

  “So what do you think I’ll say?”

  “You’ll not only ignore everything I say, dismissing my feelings as inconsequential and unimportant, but you’ll probably even think I’m stupid enough to fall straight into your arms and bed with no more than a ‘howdy do’ just because you flash that charming grin at me. So,” she asked with a smirk, “how did I do?”

  “You think my grin is charming?” He showed her firsthand just how charming it could be.

  She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the heat building in the southern region of her body.

  He shook his head at her reaction and she noticed he was amused, a fact that began to piss her off.

  “You’re cute as hell when you’re fired up. And just so you know, you lost the game. None of that was even close to right.”

  Her anger vanished at his words. “It wasn’t?”

  “I respect your feelings, Lane. I always have. I held my tongue and my temper for months when I knew you were living in a miserable home. I did that because I knew you weren’t ready to leave, that you hadn’t given up hope for your marriage, and I didn’t want to influence your decision.”

  She nodded and tried to push back the tears clogging her throat. He hadn’t uttered the word divorce to her until she’d spoken it aloud, and even then he’d merely listened and offered support as she’d tried to find a way out of her marriage. He’d never come on to her in a sexual way until last Wednesday.

  “I only want one thing for you, kitten, and that’s for you to be happy. But maybe I am a cocky bastard because I sure as hell think I know the best way to make you happy.”

  “Sex?” Her tone was pure smartass, but she was struggling to regain her footing. As always, Tris had knocked her down a peg or two.

  “Among other things,” he replied. “We’re friends and we’re attracted to each other. I don’t see any harm in mixing the two a bit.”

  “I’m not ready for this.”

  He nodded. “Tell you what, why don’t we just take it a step at a time? There’s no reason to rush. My pop needs you a helluva lot more than I do, although my cock is certainly disagreeing with those words at the moment.”

  She laughed.

  “You’ve been gone a year, Lane. Let’s take some time to get to know one another again, try to piece out where this thing is taking us.”

  “So you won’t touch me?” She needed to be clear on their parameters, their limits. She couldn’t spend the next few weeks anticipating and wondering what he might do.

  “I can’t promise you that. Is that what you want from me?”

  Was it? No, she thought. She liked holding hands with him, loved his sweet kisses—whether they were on her forehead or her lips. His foot rub had been paradise incarnate.

  “No, that’s not what I want.” She might go to hell for her desires, but she wanted him—badly. She would just have to find a way to keep their relationship physical. Surely she could do that.

  “Thank God,” he said with a relieved laugh. “That was gonna be a tough promise to make. You’re one hard woman to hold at arm’s length.” To prove his point, he pulled her toward him. “How ’bout a kiss to make up?”

  “Were we fighting?”

  “Nah, but I have a feeling any fights we have will be few and far between. Gotta snatch up my free kisses where I can.”

  Lane smiled. He leaned down to brush his lips against hers, the initial touch soft, sweet.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered her impression of Tristan Collins when they’d first met. He’d been this huge, gruff bartender with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Her first night in the bar, he’d tossed out two rowdy drunks without even breaking a sweat. She was continually intrigued by all the facets that resided within him—part grizzly, part teddy bear.

  Tris deepened the kiss and Lane knew it would be an impossible task to fight off his advances. She tangled her fingers in his thick, dark hair and reveled in the feeling of being held in his arms.

  Despite the progress she’d made over the past year to better herself, to shrug off some of the baggage she was still carrying around from childhood and a bad marriage, she simply couldn’t let herself get wrapped up too tightly in Tristan’s world. She was in the apartment to care for his father, but while here, she may as well enjoy some of these stolen, oh so hot kisses. She was an adult. Surely she could maintain this friendship with benefits without sacrificing her hard-earned independence.

  She stepped away and he let her go, looking at her curiously. “I can’t get caught in your web.” She was surprised she’d voiced her fears aloud. She never told anyone what she was thinking, always playing her cards close to her chest. Yet with Tris, the words seemed to just fall out.

  “I’m a spider?”

  She shrugged and laughed. “Sometimes it feels like you have eight hands.” She recalled the other night behind the bar—his teasing touches.

  “You know, kitten, you might like getting caught in my web.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she laughed.

  “Why do you assume it’s a web of seduction?”

  He frowned. “Do I make you feel trapped?”

  “Oh no.” She wanted to dispel that misunderstanding. “It feels more like a web of protection.”

  He considered her words and nodded. “That’s probably accurate. I’ll always keep you safe, Lane. Even from me.”

  “I can take care of myself, Tris. I don’t need protection.”

  His eyes lowered and she sensed she’d upset him with her words. “Don’t run away again.”

  She was confused by his abrupt change of topic. “What?”

  “If I say or do something that scares you, don’t run away. Stay and we’ll talk it out.”

  “You don’t scare me.” She sensed he was trying to tell her something and she was missing it.

  He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy look. “I terrify you and you know it. You like being independent, self-reliant. I get that, Lane. I’m not trying to steal that from you. I’m not like your fucking ex.”

  Truer words were never spoken. Tristan and James were night and day—physically, emotionally, mentally. Her ex-husband hadn’t been much taller than her and his build could only be described as slight, while Tris towered over her. After their marriage, James became a cold, distant man while Tristan tended to wear his emotions like some folks wore clothes. She could always tell how he was feeling and she liked that.

  “I’ve never confused you for James. I never would.”

  “He hurt you, Lane, and I’m not just talking about the beating. For two years he put you down, tried to make you feel small, stupid and insignificant. I can only assume that was his way of feeling like a big man. But he failed.”

  She considered his words. James had been an ass, constantly berating her until most days she’d dreaded going home.

  “You forget I was there. I saw you once a week, every week as you
were going through all of that, and you know what I saw?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I saw a pretty, intelligent woman who, despite her miserable home life, still came in every week with a smile on her face and brimming with self-confidence.”

  She snorted and tried to refute his comment, but he continued. “You didn’t tuck yourself away in the corner booth. You sat down at the end of the bar and you struck up a conversation. Regardless of the fact your marriage was shitty, you didn’t let James strip away your personality and you didn’t give up this freedom you seem so hell-bent on flaunting in front of me. If James had won, you never would have stepped a foot in the pub.”

  She’d blown thousands in therapy the past year to figure out exactly what Tris had said in three minutes. The thought made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. “You missed your calling,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “You were born to be a psychiatrist.”

  He shrugged. “Figure the only difference between that and a bartender is a diploma. And since I wasn’t going to spend eight more years in school…”

  She rose on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Why did you tell me all of that?”

  “You ran away the last time I said I wanted to protect you. You left for a whole year, Lane.”

  She was taken aback by the sadness in his voice and for a moment she wanted to disprove his words, deny the true reason she’d left, but she wouldn’t tell him a lie. “I needed to know I could survive on my own. You don’t know what it was like for me growing up. Always at the mercy of whoever agreed to let me live in their house. And then with James, no matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make people want me, Tris. And for what?”

  “Lane—” he started, but she kept talking, a lifetime’s worth of pain pouring from her.

  “I woke up one morning and realized there was only one person whose approval I needed and that was mine.” She turned quickly, unwilling to let Tris see the tears forming in her eyes.