‘Yep,’ Jared muttered. ‘Sleep.’
And then abruptly he tried to sit up again, with limited success.
‘Why are there strawberries? Am I in the bridal suite?’
‘No,’ Lena told him. ‘You’re in the spare room.’
Jared subsided somewhat, but kept eyeing the strawberries warily. ‘And those? Growing in the giant stripy teacup?’
‘What about them?’
‘Why?’ His voice conveyed vast layers of confusion and a complete inability to comprehend such a thing.
‘Her house, her rules,’ offered Rowan. ‘Don’t over-think it.’
His eyes opened to slits. ‘Does your spare room have strawberries in it?’
‘I don’t have any room to spare.’
‘You probably let people crash in your room instead.’ His lips quirked. ‘I like it.’
‘Jared,’ said Lena sternly. ‘Director on deck, remember? Less flirting—more respect.’
‘Why are you still here?’ Jared asked. ‘Shouldn’t you be at your wedding reception? All I’m doing right now is going to bed.’ His voice softened. ‘It’s okay. I’m okay. I made it here, didn’t I? Don’t make me regret the effort.’
‘If you need a hospital, Jared, and you’re lying about having been to one already, I swear on my new husband’s soul that I will make you regret it.’
‘She’s vicious,’ Jared told his best friend. ‘I hope you factored that in?’
The groom smiled, wide and warm. ‘Get some rest.’
‘I would if you left.’
The bride and groom made their exit, with Lena glancing back over her shoulder and warning her errant brother to be good just before the door closed behind them.
Only then did Jared allow his face to reset into a grimace of pain. ‘Hey, Doc? About those painkillers …’
‘On a scale of one to ten—one being zero and ten being unbearable—how much pain are you in?’
‘If I lie perfectly still I can get it down to about a seven.’
The doctor told him to stay in bed and rummaged through his black medical bag for two little blue pills. He got a glass of water to wash them down with.
‘This is going to knock you out. You may shower in the morning when you wake. No sudden movements. Preferably no more boat explosions or motor vehicle incidents.’
He looked at the patient and expanded his list.
‘No surfing, boxing, skydiving or martial arts training. No weights, rock-climbing or kayaking. Getting the picture?’
‘Loud and clear.’
‘Gentle swimming … floating, paddling. Pretend you’re three again. Shouldn’t be too hard, by the sound of it.’
Rowan liked this elderly smalltown doctor.
‘Listen to what your body is telling you and you might just come out of this in better shape than you deserve.’
Rowan liked this doctor a lot. ‘You’re not looking for casual work on an as-needed basis, are you? Because your bedside manner could really work for us.’
‘I’m two years away from retirement and I’ve seen everything I want to see and then some when it comes to medical emergencies. I don’t need to see any more of those.’
Pity.
‘Hey, Doc …’ the patient mumbled. ‘Do you think she’s got a funny face? I think so. But I really like it.’
The doctor sighed. ‘That’ll be the painkillers kicking in.’
‘Great voice too,’ Jared told them next. ‘Makes me think of sex. Does it make you think of sex?’
‘Son, you need to get some rest. Stop fighting it.’
The doctor slid Rowan a glance, his smirk in no way hidden.
‘You might want to leave before he proposes.’
‘I might want to hear it for blackmail purposes.’ Come to think of it, she might just want to hear it for her own selfish reasons.
But it was a moot point. The man on the bed was already asleep.
‘Do we have the all-clear to fly him elsewhere in the morning?’
The doctor nodded. ‘Get him X-rayed as soon as you can … keep him hydrated, keep an eye on him.’
‘Thank you for your co-operation.’
‘Not a problem—no matter what my wife says. Always a pleasure to help our special intelligence service.’ The doctor smiled his charmingly distinguished smile. ‘Who do I bill?’
Jared woke in a bed that didn’t rock with the rhythm of the ocean. It wasn’t his bed—he knew that much. His bed for the past two years had been a narrow bunk beside the engine room of Antonov’s super-yacht. It had been a floating fortress, locked down so hard that no one had been able to get near it undetected, and it had been more than capable of sinking anything that tried.
His bed hadn’t been soft, like this one, and his bunkroom sure as hell hadn’t contained a chest of drawers beneath a wooden window. Was that a pot full of strawberries sitting on top of it? He thought he remembered being puzzled by them last night as well. Because … why?
He opened his eyes a little more, turned his head and discovered lime-coloured sheets and a floral magenta and green comforter. If this was a motel he was clearly in the lollipop suite—but he didn’t think this was a motel.
He rolled over onto his back and winced at the pain that seared through his body. There’d been a doctor at some point last night. The doctor had told him that his estimate of two cracked ribs had been a little under. There’d been pills last night too, and then there’d been blessed oblivion.
He was at Lena’s farmhouse. He remembered now.
And he could use a couple more of those painkillers.
