Second Chance Girl
Page 28

“Heidi.”
Carol frowned, processing the name. “You mean the book?”
“That’s the one. This is supposed to be a mountain chalet.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“It’s not what I would have picked,” Violet admitted as she looked through the totes. “But it’s adjoining Ulrich’s room, which makes my life easier.”
“I never saw you as the private nurse type. Are you getting a uniform? Maybe one with a short skirt?”
“The man is injured.”
“All the easier to seduce him.”
“I’m ignoring you,” Violet told her.
“Ignoring the truth doesn’t make it go away.”
Her sister laughed as Carol had known she would. As for taking care of Ulrich, that didn’t surprise Carol, either. Violet was a good person with a big heart. No matter what she thought of Ulrich—he was alone and injured—she would be there for him. The sexy accent was only a bonus.
“You spoke to his grandmother?”
“Three times. She wants regular reports. He should be able to travel in a week or so.”
“That’s a long time for you to take off work.”
“According to the doctor, Ulrich should be up and walking in a couple of days. Once I know he’s making progress, I’ll go in for a few hours at a time.”
“Plus most of what you do happens over the internet and through the mail. Let me know how I can help.”
“I will.”
Carol knew that her sister would be bringing Ulrich back to the hotel later that morning. “Want me to pick up takeout for dinner?”
“I think we’ll just order room service, but I might ask you for tomorrow.”
“Just say the word.”
Violet put the suitcase on the bed and pulled out several tops. She hung them in the closet. “How are things with you?” she asked when she returned to the bed. “Any word from Mathias?”
Not a question Carol wanted to answer. Which must have shown on her face because her sister dropped the blouse she was holding and stared at her.
“What?”
Crap. No, double crap. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember.” Or he was faking not remembering, which was too humiliating to say to anyone, including Violet.
“No. Seriously? He doesn’t—” Violet’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. It’s weird and upsetting and I don’t know what to do. I can’t bring it up.” She shook her head. “Technically I can, but I’m not going to. This is already a personal low. I don’t need to make things worse. I guess I’m going to pretend it never happened, right along with him.”
She braced herself for a lecture, but Violet only hugged her.
“Can you really do that?”
“Sure. I think so. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m going to try. The alternative is too awful to think about. You won’t say anything, will you?”
Her sister hugged her again. “Not even for ice cream.”
Carol relaxed. That was a promise she could trust.
* * *
VIOLET DID HER best not to look as awkward as she felt. It was one thing to promise to take care of Ulrich while he was recovering, but quite another to actually do it. She barely knew the man—what on earth was she doing in his hotel room? A silly question to which she knew the answer, but still. Weirdness all around.
His grandmother had insisted he be delivered back to the hotel via ambulance. The nice driver and his assistant had brought Ulrich upstairs in a wheelchair, then had got him settled in his bed. Violet was already moved into her small room next door and she had a plan for the night. Rest for her patient, a simple room service dinner, then early to bed. She would deal with everything else tomorrow.
She gave Ulrich an extra five minutes to get comfortable in his bed, then knocked once and opened the door between their two rooms.
“How are you feeling?” she asked cheerfully, hoping she didn’t look as suddenly nervous as she felt. She glanced at him, found the sight of him in bed far too intimate and settled on staring at a safe spot somewhere slightly above his head.
“Foolish, mostly. You don’t have to stay with me.”
“That’s not what your grandmother said and while you might not be afraid of her, I am. Seriously, do you doubt her ability to fly out here and whack me with her cane?”
“I have felt the power of that cane more than once. It’s not something you’d enjoy. Now come and sit here so we can work out what, exactly, is our plan.”
A sensible suggestion, she thought as she picked up the desk chair and carried it over to his bed. She ran her hands along the side of the red Cadillac and smiled.
“Does recovering in a car bed make you feel more or less foolish?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s an excellent question. I would suppose more foolish. It’s hard to look dignified in these settings.”
Without thinking she let her gaze drift over his face and somehow became mesmerized by his dark blue eyes. Even pale, bruised and slightly drugged, he was one good-looking guy, she thought. And that accent!
Not anything she could dwell on right now, she reminded herself. He was her patient and while she might not be a medical professional, she did have certain responsibilities to keep things circumspect. He was already injured. She didn’t want him worried she was going to throw herself at him.
“Are you still feeling dizzy?” she asked.
He hesitated just long enough for her to guess at the answer.
“It’s not bad,” he told her. “Better than yesterday. Not that I can convince my grandmother. I’ve already had to send her three selfies so she can see for herself that I’m going to be all right. I would appreciate anything you can do to reassure her.”
“Of course. I’m sure we’ll be talking in the next fifteen minutes.” Violet thought about her conversations with Ulrich’s grandmother. “She doesn’t want to lose you.”
“I know. She worries.” He hesitated. “I don’t know if she ever mentioned, my father was in a very bad car accident when he was a teenager. He never fully recovered and spent the rest of his life using crutches or a wheelchair. She was devastated by that, and later by his early death.”
Violet nodded. She’d never met Ulrich’s father, but had heard about him in the letters she and Nana Winifred exchanged. The older woman had been crushed when her son had died a few years ago.
“You’re all she has,” she said quietly. “I’ll make sure I reassure her.”
“Good. She’s too frail to make her way here, although she would certainly make the attempt if she thought she was needed.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not risking the cane. All my reports will be upbeat.”
Her unimpressive attempt at humor earned her a slight smile, which generated a little quiver in her stomach. Okay, she might not have caring for an English aristocrat on her schedule this week, but it was hardly difficult duty.
“I thought we’d have a quiet evening tonight,” she said, changing the subject. “Dinner in, some mindless television, then an early bedtime for you. I put together a schedule for your medications. They’ll be tapering off in the next couple of days, so I’ll only have to disturb you for the first two nights.”