Page 20 of Healing Hope

Jess blinked, then nodded. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted.

Paul glanced at the men grouped around him. “If you’ll give me a minute, guys.”

They nodded and agreed, and he pushed to his feet. “Hope,” he said, “I’ll be back in a minute. Can you stay with the police officers and firefighters?”

Hope nodded her dark head, her eyes shadowed with worry and fear. Jess could see the question in her eyes, and she crossed over to her, kneeling down in front of the chair. “This is what’s going to happen, okay? Your dad has to go to the hospital and get his hand checked out and some stitches for the cut in his head. While he’s going there, you and I are going to take Sophie to the vet down the road, okay? And get her hand- paw- checked out. Because the way she’s holding it, she might need to have it wrapped or something, too.”

Hope nodded, looking down at her little protector. “She tried to save me.”

“I know she did. So she deserves a hero’s care. Let me help your dad for a minute, then we’ll get going. Okay?”

Hope nodded, and Jess leaned forward to wrap her arms around the girl and dog. Hope held onto her when she tried to pull away, and Jess paused, letting the girl take the comfort she needed. Eventually, she drew back, wiping her cheeks free of tears. “We’ll be okay, Hope.”

Jess looked her in the eye when she said it, and Hope nodded, looking down at Sophie.

Jess scratched the little dog on the head, and her tail wagged. Jess could see that she was still nursing that paw, though, and it worried her. She stroked a finger down Hope’s cheek, then turned to go help her father.

9

Paul watched Jess deal with his daughter, and his throat tightened with emotion. No, Jess wasn’t her mother, but he had a feeling Hope had gotten more care from this young woman than anyone else, ever.

And he’d almost refused her entry into his home. What had he been thinking? Since when had he become so closed-minded?

Tightening his jaw, he watched as Jess walked toward him, strong and whole and unharmed. That was what had been going through his mind when he’d been fighting that damned scarecrow in Hope’s room. Protect his daughter at all costs and don’t let beautiful Jess get hurt.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started thinking of her like that, but that’s how it had popped into his head. And he’d protected her, mostly.

Now he had to impose on her care even more, and swallow his own fear.

Paul led Jess into his bedroom, very aware of her mere feet behind him. At the bed, he turned and bumped his chin toward the door. “Can you close that for a minute?”

She did as he asked, then returned to stand in front of him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied, even as his head swam. “Is Hope okay? She doesn’t need checked out, does she?”

Jess shook her head, scraping a hand through her long hair and pushing it away from her face. “She’s fine. I checked her arm and there might be a bruise later, but no more. She’s more worried about Sophie. She’s holding her little paw up. Did you see her going after the guy, though? What a little badass!”

Paul grinned slightly. “Yeah, she did well, I guess.”

Stepping back, he sank to the edge of the mattress, hating the dull feeling in the middle of his chest. It was worse now than when he’d been fighting. Asking for help was the thing he hated most, but he had to this time. There was no way he was going into the hospital withnousable arms. “Would you mind helping me mount my prosthetic?”

Jess blinked, her sea-glass green eyes going a little dark, then her lips quirked. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that proposition in a bedroom,” she murmured, lifting her eyebrows at him.

Paul snorted, then regretted it as soon as his head throbbed. If he could have blushed he would have, but his system was too beat up. He appreciated her humor, though, and he grinned a little.

“Of course I can,” she whispered, glancing around the room. “Where is it?”

“There’s a stand in the closet.”

Paul watched as she crossed to the room and retrieved his prosthetic. It was an awkward contraption, big with straps hanging. The form fit over his right shoulder and buckled on across his chest.

Not something he could currently do with his good hand wrapped from his fingertips to his elbow.

“Does this go on over your shirt?” she asked, moving the prosthetic in her hands to the correct orientation.

“No,” he admitted, standing in front of her. “This is where your help comes in.”

She blinked, then seemed to understand, because she smiled softly up at him. “I’m telling you, this is the craziest seduction routine I think I’ve ever heard. So, you want me to strip you down and mount your thing?”