The Virgin's Night Out (15 page)

Sloane opened her mouth.
No. No way
—

“I’ll take her to the emergency room,” he said even as she tried to pull away.

A band aid. Okay, maybe more than
one
, but she could deal with this here. At home. Why go to the ER?

Then she made the mistake of looking at her towel-wrapped hand.

Blood had already soaked through.

It was after midnight when Boone pulled up in front of the house, a dozing Sloane in the seat next to him. They’d loaded her up with pain meds. She’d tried to argue, telling them she had a baby to nurse, but common sense had finally prevailed. He’d picked up the prescription in town, at the twenty-four hour pharmacy located just across the street from the hospital. He’d forced a burger into her when she took the medicine and now she was out of it.

It had taken nearly forty minutes to get to Nowhere from the hospital on the outskirts of Birmingham and she’d fallen asleep a good half hour ago.

The farm was dark and quiet, but as he gently shut the driver’s side door, a light came on and he wasn’t surprised to see Taylor’s shadow fill the doorway a moment later.

Moving around the car, he opened the door and crouched down.

Sloane was still sleeping.

“Sloane.” He said her name gently, waiting for a response but all she did was cuddle deeper into the seat, her bandaged hand on her lap.

Sighing, he freed the seatbelt.

It took a minute to get her settled in his arms and by the time he turned to face the house, Taylor was there.

The other man quietly shut the car door and gestured up the path.

They moved inside without speaking and Taylor led the way to Sloane’s bedroom. She made one low, muttering sort of grumble when he accidentally bumped her feet against the door, but other than that, she didn’t even stir.

Once he had her on her bed, he slipped off her shoes.

She immediately rolled onto her side and drew her knees up.

Grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed, he flipped it up over her and then turned.

Taylor stood there, watching him appraisingly.

Great.

Just great.

Late night chats with protective older brothers fell into the category of
things I don’t want to do
, but Boone didn’t see any way around it.

In the kitchen, he settled down at the counter and waited as Taylor went straight to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out two amber bottles.

Boone wasn’t really in the mood for a beer, but he accepted the proffered bottle nonetheless. He lifted it to his lips and took a quick sip as Taylor dropped down across from him.

“How’s her hand?”

Boone shrugged. “Called you. She’s got twenty stitches—twenty. Shit.”

Taylor grimaced. He was silent a moment and then said, “I suppose I should say thanks for taking her. It was more my job than yours.”

“You are better equipped to deal with the baby.” Boone took another drink and then focused on the bottle rather than the man in front of him. He couldn’t really explain that he’d been all but overcome by the surge of protectiveness that had insisted he take care of Sloane.

“You seem to do okay with her.”

From under his lashes, Boone saw Taylor shrug. “You’re her uncle. You’ve been helping out with her since she was born.” He frowned, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “How old is she?”

“The baby?” Taylor squinted at him. “Almost two months.”

Boone did the math in his head. “She would have gotten pregnant around the time you two got married, then,” he murmured. He’d been at that wedding. He wondered if he knew the father and then decided he’d rather not know the answer to that.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Taylor’s mouth went tight.

“What’s up?”

His friend shook his head. “Nothing. I just…” He stopped for a moment and took a long, deep drag off the bottle before thunking it down on the table. “She deserves better. Whoever the guy was, he should have stood by her. Makes me
furious
to see her getting up at one in the morning, night after night. I try to help, but she’s determined to do it all on her own.”

“Do you know who the dad is?”

Taylor gave a quick shake of his head. “No. I could probably find out. It had to be somebody she was seeing in the city before she moved back home, but when I asked her, it was pretty clear she didn’t want to talk about it. So I’m trying to respect her privacy.” He lifted the bottle, but didn’t drink this time. Instead, he studied Boone across the table. “I’m not going to respect yours, though, man. You had your hands all over my sister.”

Boone said nothing. What was there to say?

“You had your hands all over her and your tongue halfway down her throat, unless I was seeing things.” Taylor paused. “
Was
I seeing things?”

“You got good eyes.” Boone shrugged.

“How many times has that happened?”

Boone’s response was cut short when he caught a low noise.

A moment later, Sloane appeared in the doorway, still wearing the clothes she’d had on earlier. She’d taken off the light over shirt she had on before the left—it was liberally splashed with blood—and all she wore now was a pair of jeans and a skinny strapped tank or camisole or whatever the hell a girl called that sort of garment.

“Complete and utter silence—the surest way to know people have been talking about you,” she said, her mouth twisting in a sulky pout that made him want to bite her full lower lip.

“You just had enough stitches to sew up my old army duffel. I think we’re entitled,” Taylor said easily.

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Okay,
A
) It wasn’t that many stitches—like twenty.
B)
If you were talking about my stupidity-induced accident, you would have been razzing me, not zipping your mouth shut, Taylor.”

“Hey, I’m just concerned.”

“Don’t concern yourself with my personal life,” she said tartly.

When Taylor went to respond, Boone cut him off. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted.” She made a face. “That pill you pushed down my throat will knock you for a loop.”

“You should be in bed sleeping,” he said softly.

“I can’t.” She shrugged restlessly. “I’m used to Dani waking up and…”

Her cheeks went red. “Never mind.” She crossed to the sink and grabbed a glass from the drain rack nearby. “I’m just going to get some water and try to go back to bed.”

“Dani is usually awake by now,” Taylor said.

“I know.” She glanced over her shoulder. “That’s why I’m awake. She’s got me trained, I tell you. But I poked my head into her room earlier and she’s still sleeping.”

“You’ll have to let us help more for a few days.” Taylor nodded at her hand. “You’ll have a hard time changing her for a few days, at least.”

Sloane shrugged.

Her gaze slid toward Boone and then away. Although the connection lasted less than a second, he felt it echo through him and he wanted to move to her, pull her up against him.

Something must have showed on his face, because she started blushing all over again. She hurriedly drank her water and then rinsed out the glass. As she put it in the drain rack, she said, “I guess I’ll go back to bed.”

She was halfway across the floor when he spoke, the words surprising him—and embarrassing him. “How are you going to be able…um…” His gaze dropped to her chest.

She crossed her arms over her breasts.

His face was now as red as hers, but she managed a level voice as she said, “I’ll just pump and dump the milk until I don’t need the pain meds. I’ve got some stored in the freezer and some formula, too. Goodnight.”

In the privacy of her room, Sloane leaned back against the door. She’d almost said something.

She’d heard the two of them talking. Boone had closed the door behind him when he left and the sound of it had woken her up. She’d been just a minute or two after them when they’d gone downstairs and she’d heard pretty much the entire conversation.

She’d almost said something.

About Dani’s dad, about Taylor nosing into her personal life.

It had taken a sheer effort of will to keep her mouth shut and she knew it was the pain medication that had loosened her tongue.

She’d have to avoid Boone—hell, her brother, too—for a day or two, until she wasn’t in a drug-induced haze.

When she told Boone—and she’d do it soon—she’d rather do it the right way, not just blurt it out in front of her brother.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”

Sloane jerked up her head, staring at her brother’s face.

“You scared me!”

He just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door jam.

It had been almost forty-eight hours since she’d cut her hand and she thought maybe tomorrow, she could forgo the pain meds. That meant she just had to get through today without doing or saying something stupid—or walking into another wall. She’d done that
twice
.

Under her brother’s prying gaze, she found herself squirming.

“How did your day go?” she asked, hoping to divert his attention.

It was a fruitless hope, though.

Taylor sauntered into the library, pausing to crouch in front of Dani’s swing, murmuring to her until the baby cooed at him. Her face broke out into a radiant smile and Sloane ruefully acknowledge she might have to fight to make sure she stayed number one in her little girl’s life. She seemed to have her uncle wrapped around her tiny little fingers.

“How come you’re being on antisocial the past few days, sis?” Taylor rose as he spoke and turned to face her.

“I’m not.” Then she shrugged. “Okay, maybe I am. I’m cranky and I hurt and I don’t like to be around people when I’m cranky and hurt.”

“Bullshit.” Taylor’s face was grim. “I know you too well to buy that. When you’re cranky, you want people around that much more—to distract you.”

“That was when I was
ten
,” she said loftily. “I’m not ten anymore.”

“True.” Taylor dropped down on the fat leather couch and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Since when did you have a thing for Boone?”

Blood rushed to her face. “Who says I did?”

“Your tongue down his throat says you did.” Taylor cocked a brow.

She blushed even harder, her face going hot. “I’m a little too old for you to be monitoring the guys I kiss.”

“Never said I was monitoring.” Taylor shrugged. “It was kind of hard to unsee the two of you wrapped around each other, sis. He’s…”

He hesitated and then said softly, “I just don’t want to see you hurt. Boone’s a great guy, but he’s going through a mess right now, with his memories and all.”

“I know.” Uncomfortable now, she looked away.

“I just don’t think this is the ideal time for either of you to getting something started. You’ve got the baby and he’s still trying to figure everything out.”

Sighing, she rose and moved to the window. She’d volunteered to help get the library here organized and she was mostly done with the task and bored, little to do during the day when she wasn’t taking care of Dani. Between her and Ellen, the household chores were done in far less time, especially since Ellen had a lady come in and clean twice a month. There was only so many times she could play
Candy Crush
before she got bored. Staring outside, she wondered what Taylor would do when he learned that she and Boone had actually
started something
eleven months ago.

She rubbed the heel of her hand over the ache in her chest.

“Sloane…”

“Taylor, enough.” She went to turn around. Her injured hand bumped into the window sill and a strangled shriek rose from behind her lips. Gasping, she brought her now-throbbing hand to her chest, cradling it.

Dani squalled, her tiny face puckering up.

“Shit,” Sloane murmured, moving over to the swing.

“Here, let me—”

“I got it!” Sloane could have kicked herself, but the frustrated words were already out there and Dani, sensing something, started to cry.

Sighing, she fumbled the baby out of the swing and up onto her shoulder. Her milk-laden breasts started to ache, responding to her child’s cry, and she groaned. That just made it all perfect.

She couldn’t nurse while she had the narcotics in her system and pumping, while necessary, was a pain in the butt.

“Sloane, I just want to help,” Taylor said quietly.

“I know that.” Waspishly, she wished people would
stop
wanting to help for a while. Immediately after that thought circled through her head, she started to feel like a heel. She’d come home because she wanted to be with her family, wanted Dani to grow up with family. And she was shoving Taylor’s concern in his face. “I’m just…tired. Sore.”

“I know you’re tired,” Taylor said, his voice closer. “That’s why I want to help. You’re up most nights two or three times feeding her, changing her.”

Taylor made a disgusted sound. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. That shithead—”

“He’s not—” She clamped her lips shut before she could say it. She didn’t want to swear around the baby. Slowly, she turned, facing her brother. “Back off, Taylor. He’s not a bad guy.”

“Yeah.” Taylor sneered. “I’m sure Mom said the same thing about
our
dad after he up and took off, leaving her here to run this place, take care of us on his own.”

“It’s not the same thing,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“You’re right.” Taylor shoved his hands into his pockets, a dark look on his face. “Dad, at least, had the decency to hang around until we were a little older. This guy, he just up and walked—”

“No, he didn’t!” she snapped. “Look, I…I never told him, okay?”

Taylor stared at her. He shook his head, almost as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard what he heard. Then he took a step toward her. “
What
?”

“I didn’t…”
Damn it
. Sighing, she shifted Dani to her shoulder and moved over to the couch, sitting down. The small, warm little bundle in her arms suddenly felt terribly heavy and she started to understand what Ellen had been trying to tell her. “He asked…”