Wednesday, January 6, 2016


Happy New Year! I hope the transition back to work went smoothly for all of you. I'm starting off 2016 with a brand new work in progress. A standalone novel, not yet named. I'm all ready in love with the main characters at barely 25K words into it. Meet Evie and Landon...

“Who the hell are you?” Way to be charming, Landon.
She looked over at me, boredom in her expression, before returning her attention to the television. “The nurse your father hired. Who the hell do you think I am?”
“I don’t need a nurse.”
“I agree. You need a nanny.” She flipped the channel to a news program and grimaced.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I turned so I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, the brace making my movements jerky not angry and pronounced like I’d intended.
“It means, you can’t even dress yourself so how can anyone expect you to do anything.”
I dropped my gaze down and with a curse, grabbed the sheet and pulled it across my lap. I’d totally forgotten about falling in bed naked the night before. Unfortunately, other parts of me were not only aware that they were unclothed but they were announcing themselves quite loudly.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Whatever. I’m a nurse. I’ve seen worse. Of course, I’ve seen better too. Much better.” She clicked to another station. I could have sworn I saw her lip twitch as I growled over her insult.
“Just get out. I don’t need you. Tell my father to go to hell.”
She tossed the remote control on the coffee table and checked her watch. “You have ten minutes to get ready for physical therapy or I’m taking you the way you are.”
I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “I’m not going.”
“You are going so get dressed.” She stood and looked him over. “You’re down to eight minutes.”
“And just how do you expect me to get down all of those stairs?”
“The same way you got up them. Walter showed me the elevator.”
Damn it. I was hoping she hadn’t found that yet. I waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. Are you going to watch?”
“Watch what?” She dropped her gaze to my lap and gave me a little smile that was more taunting than friendly.
This woman was absolutely infuriating. “Fine. Suit yourself.” I whipped the sheet back and reached for my wheelchair. Instead of turning away, she stayed right where she was with that little smile dancing around on her lips. With about as much grace as a bull in a china shop, I managed to get from the bed to the chair while she just stood there and watched.
“I thought you were supposed to be here to help me.”
“You didn’t say you needed my assistance.”
“Really? I had to ask? Isn’t that what you are here for?”
“Let’s get something straight, Mr. Reed.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “I’m a trauma trained RN. I am not your maid or your gopher or any other thing. It is my job to get you back on your feet both literally and figuratively. I’ll handle your medical care and your personal care as needed but I am not at your beck and call.”
“Just get out of my way so I can get dressed.” I pushed past her to the large walk-in closet and started grabbing clothes. Dragging a pair of sweats, some boxer briefs and a t-shirt into the bathroom, I struggled my way into them. The doctors had promised me that things would get easier but the pain was still excruciating and my knee just refused to bend like it used to without bringing tears to my eyes and a sheen of sweat to my entire body.
When I was done, I ran a comb through my wild hair and grimaced. Probably time to think about an actual haircut.
“Come on, we’re going to be late!” The nurse called.
“I’m coming already!” I whipped open the bathroom door and scowled at her. “You never told me your name.”
She shrugged. “You never asked.”
She was fucking infuriating—despite the way her long brown hair tumbled in waves over her shoulder from the pony tail it was secured in.
“Fine. What is your name?”
“What’s your real name?”
“That is my real name.” She stepped behind me and turned the wheel chair toward the door. She stopped and grabbed his tennis shoes from the floor, placing them in his lap.
“I meant, is Evie short for something?”
“Yes.” She pushed his chair down the hall toward the door at the end and pushed the button for the small service elevator—the number one reason I had chosen the beach house as my home base after the accident.
“Are you going to tell me what it is?” The elevator opened and Evie pushed me inside.
“Why not?”
“It’s none of your business. You can call me Evie or nurse. That’s all you need to know about me.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you can be a real bitch?”
“Honey, I grew up in New York. They teach a class on that in high school.”
They reached the first floor and the door opened. Evie pushed me out of the elevator and down the ramp Walter had constructed to get me in and out of the house.
“I’m going out on a limb here but I bet you aced that class.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Reed.”

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