All of Me (20 page)

He wondered, not
for the first time, what Stella saw in him.  Why she wanted to waste her time
on him and trust her body with him.  She was beautiful, funny, kind, smart,
strong…Stella could have any man she wanted, any time she wanted.  Why the fuck
did she want him?

And speaking of
things he couldn’t figure out, why didn’t he shake with Stella?  Or sweat?  And
why, after he had sex with her, he didn’t feel ashamed or alone?  Why did being
with her made him feel calm?  Sated?  Good?  Maybe even happy?

Nope.  He wasn’t
going there.  They’d had sex and that was it.  Sure, it had been mind-blowing
and body-numbing and Nathan wasn’t sure how he’d go on if she left him, but it
was all still no big deal, right?

Fucking. Hell.

***

Stella stretched
and yawned.  She could tell without opening her eyes she’d been in the same
position for a while because her muscles were stiff and her neck was tight. 
She cracked her eyelids and found herself staring at Nathan’s left bicep.  Her
head was resting on his left arm…Nathan was behind her, spooning her; his right
arm resting on her hip.

Stella smiled. 
She pressed her lips to his bicep and inhaled his scent.

God, he’d been
amazing.  It had been such a turn on to watch him go from restrained to
uninhibited to totally in control.  When he’d taken her from behind like that…

Stella squirmed
thinking about it. 

“You okay?”

Nathan’s deep,
growly voice coming from right above her head made Stella jump.

She laughed.  “You
scared me.  I didn’t know you were awake.”  Stella turned in his arms until
they were face to face. 

Nathan had his
poker face on.  She couldn’t even venture a guess as to his mood or what was
going on in his head.  The guy was like a Sphinx.

Stella planted a
quick kiss on his lips and settled back into his arms.  She studied his stoic
expression.  “You are a hard guy to read.  Has anyone ever told you that
before?”

“Yes.”

“I bet.”  Stella
searched his eyes, his face, for something.  Anything.  But he was blank.  A
statue would have revealed more. 

“Nathan?”

“Yes?”

“I want to hear
about your tattoos.  And your scars.”

Every muscle in
his body tensed up.  His expression never changed, but agitation was rolling
off him in waves.

“We can talk about
that later.  Not now.”  Nathan rolled backwards, away from her, and sat up. 
Which was a huge mistake because it gave Stella a really in-your-face-view of
the exact subject matter she was trying to discuss.

His back was a hot
mess.  It looked like what Stella would imagine a P.O.W. held in a…

Stella’s stomach
dropped. 

“Nathan…did
you…were you…”  Stella sat up and pulled a loose bedsheet over her midsection. 
She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.  When he turned to
look at her expectantly, Stella’s voice came out a strangled whisper.  “Were
you tortured over in the Middle East?  When you were in the Army?  Is that what
those scars are from?”

Of all the
reactions she’d expected, a burst of hard laughter was not one of them. 

“No.  Nothing like
that.”  He yanked on his boxers and grabbed his tee shirt.  After he pulled it
on, Nathan faced her, hands on his hips.  “What can I get you?  A coffee?  Some
food from somewhere?” 

“Uh, no.  You can
sit down and talk to me about what the hell happened to your body.”

“Drop it, Stella,”
he shot back.  Snapped, really.  In a voice that told Stella he fully expected
to bully her into backing down.

“I will
not
drop
it.”  When he walked away, Stella saw red.  “Nathan, we are not done.” 

But he continued
on his merry way; grabbing a tee shirt and shorts out of his closet (who the
hell hangs up mesh workout shorts?) and leaving the bedroom.  She scooted off
the bed, yanking the whole gray sheet with her.  Stella wrapped it around her
as best as she could and stomped after Nathan.  “Nathan, stop!”

He started yanking
the clothes on. 

“Will you talk to
me?  Please?  I-“

Nathan spun
around.  “It’s none of your fucking business! 
Jesus Christ
!”  With a
huff, he shoved his feet into some work boots.  “Just because we’ve screwed a
few times doesn’t mean everything about me is instantly your business!”  Nathan
looked around feverishly.  “God
damn
it!  Where are my keys!”

Stella, initially
angry at his avoidance then stunned at his uncharacteristic yelling, started
bawling.  As was her typical reaction to getting yelled at.  The anger would
come later, but right now, it was all tears, all the time.

A stricken
expression replaced his angry one.  “Oh, my God, Stella…”  He slowly approached
her.  “I am so sorry…” 

Stella sank onto
his couch and wiped at her face with a corner of the sheet. 

Nathan sank to his
knees in front of her; bracing his forearms on either side of Stella’s legs on
the couch.  He looked at her with those sad whiskey eyes…so forlorn, so torn
up…

As hurt as Stella
was, it was hard to stay angry with someone who looked like
that
.  She
sniffled and smiled.  “I guess I’m kind of playing dirty, huh?”

Some of the
heaviness left his face.  And then he shocked the hell out of her. 

Nathan laid his
head in her lap; his arms tightening against her outer thighs. 

More tears
gathered in Stella’s eyes, blurring her vision as she stroked Nathan’s head.

They sat like that
for a long while: Nathan motionless in her lap while Stella ran her hands over
his head, his shoulders, and his back.

“I’m not ready…” 
Nathan’s voice was strangled and muffled against Stella’s thigh.  “I want to,
but I can’t.  Not yet.”

“It’s okay.  I
understand.”  Stella traced her fingertips over the edge of his ear and over
the back of his neck.  She smiled when goosebumps spread across Nathan’s skin. 
“I just want to make you feel as accepted and beautiful as you make me feel. 
That’s all.”

Nathan lifted his
head and their eyes met.  “You
are
beautiful, Stella.  The most
beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.  You know that, right?”

Stella laughed
through more tears.  “You’ve gotta stop with that sweet talk, Nathan.  You’re
killing
me.”

“Please don’t
cry.  I can’t stand it.”  He stood and, in one smooth movement, pulled Stella
up into his arms.  His lips whispered into her hair.  “Can you be patient with
me?  I know it’s a lot…and if you can’t, I’ll understand…I’m just so fucked up,
Stella…”

“We’re all fucked
up,
mio caro
.  Some of us are better at hiding it than others.”

“Yeah, but some of
us are
really
fucked up,” he said so vehemently Stella laughed again.

At his quirked
brow, Stella tightened her arms around his waist.  “Anyone who devotes his life
to saving people’s lives and defending people who can’t defend themselves can’t
be too fucked up.  And anyone who can kiss like you do and can do–“  She tilted
her head to the bedroom. “…what you do in there is all right in my book.”

When he just kept
staring at her with those godforsaken eyes, Stella squeezed him again.  “I’m
going to make you something to eat.  A good fight always makes me hungry.”  She
dropped her arms, but Nathan didn’t drop his.  He kept his wrapped around her
waist.

Damn those eyes. 
They were latched onto hers…searching…or maybe trying to tell her
something…either way, they were piercing her soul.

“
Nathan
…” 

He dropped his
arms, and after a quick clearing of his throat, released her.  “I don’t keep
much food in the house.  Let me go grab you something.”

Stella headed for
Nathan’s kitchen.  “I’m sure you have something in here I can work with.” 

She opened the
fridge door and examined the contents, which consisted of cranberry juice,
orange juice, bottled water, and about twenty little bottles of insulin. 

Nathan was
standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his hands braced up on the top of the
doorframe.  She put aside the sexiness of that pose and the effect it was
having on her for the moment.

“Are you
diabetic?”

“Yeah.  Type 1.”

“When were you
diagnosed?”

“15.”

“Huh.”  Stella
started opening and closing cupboards.  “There is nothing in any of these,
Nathan.”  She shot him a disapproving look as she shut the last cupboard. 
“There’s no food in your fridge or your cupboards…what do you eat?”

“Stuff while I’m
out.”    

“Uh-huh.  You know
diabetics need to eat many small meals throughout the day to maintain their
blood sugar, right?”  At Nathan’s nod, she lifted a brow.  “And do you?”  When
Nathan nodded again, Stella scoffed.  She gestured to his kitchen as a whole. 
“This is very upsetting, Nathan.  If you didn’t have diabetes, it would be bad
enough, but…”

Stella made her
way back to Nathan’s bedroom and dropped the bed sheet.  She was pulling her
clothes back on when Nathan finally reappeared. 

He eyed her. 
“What are you doing?”

“Getting
dressed.”  Stella pulled on her bra.  “Have you seen my fake boob?”

Nathan pointed to
under the bed.

“Ah-ha.”  Stella
slipped it into her bra and pulled her shirt over her head. 

“You leaving?”

“
We’re
leaving.  I don’t have my car, remember?”  Stella brushed past him and made a
bee line for her shoes.

“Are you leaving
because you’re angry about my lack of food?”

She laughed.  “You
are so silly.  I’m not leaving…
we’re
leaving.  To go the market.  I’ve
got to get some food in this house and into you or I’m not going to be able to
sleep tonight.” 

The relief on his
face was enough to break Stella’s heart into a million pieces.  She thought
about how many times he must have been left in his life and she wanted to throw
herself on the ground sobbing.

But that wasn’t
going to get her man fed and, as an Italian-American woman, that was priority number
one.  Almost always.

She grabbed his
hand and pulled him toward the door.  “Come on.  Let’s go have some fun.”

Chapter
Sixteen

“What’d you do
last night?”  Danny asked as they drove away from a traffic accident they’d
cleared. 

“Went grocery shopping,”
Nathan replied.

“Grocery
shopping?  But it wasn’t a Saturday.”  At Nathan’s glare, Danny grinned.  “Why
did you go grocery shopping?”

Because my
intimate…
friend
…insisted on it.  And I’d do anything she asks because
I’m hopelessly pussy-whipped and shamelessly into her.

“Because I needed
food.”  Danny’s suspicious staring got on Nathan’s last nerve fast.  “
What
?”

“Stella force fed
you, didn’t she?”

When Nathan shook
his head, Danny laughed.  “Don’t even deny it, D.  An Italian girl like
that...” 

A tiny smile
tugged at Nathan’s lips.  “You should have seen the look on her face when she
realized I had no food in the house.  You would have thought I had severed
heads shoved in my fridge and cupboards the way she freaked out.  And when she
found out I was diabetic?”  Nathan scoffed.  “I got a full nursing lecture on
that after the grocery store.”

“Is she as good in
the kitchen as she is in the bedroom?”  When Nathan shot him a warning glare,
Danny shook his head, grinning like an idiot.  “I knew it.  What did she make?”

   “Something
called bra…brosh…broshool?”

“Oooh,
braciole
. 
One of my faves.  Was it good?  Did you save me any?”

“How in the hell
have you heard of that?”

“The last foster
home I stayed at – the Andersons – there was an Italian couple next door.  The
woman used to always cook huge amounts of food and then pass it out to all the
neighbors,” Danny said.  “Her
braciole
was my favorite.”

“Some kind of
stuffed meat?”  At Danny’s nod, Nathan said, “Yeah.  She tied it up with
cooking twine or some shit and baked it.  She made this awesome salad too with
meat and cheese in it.”

Nathan remembered
how Stella’s face had lit up while she’d been cooking for him and how right it
had felt to watch her bustle around his kitchen.  And she’d been so happy watching
him choke it down that she’d been beaming. It had been delicious, but Nathan
was no fan of eating and especially not in front of people. 

“You ate enough to
make her happy?”

Nathan nodded. 
“She said something about usually being self-conscious when she eats in front
of people and I thought about telling her.”  He shrugged again.  “But I
didn’t.  Of course.  I ate enough to satisfy her sadistic need to stuff me and
kept my bullshit to myself.  No need to burden her with that shit, right?”

“What did she say
about the scars?”

“She asked about
them.  I told her they’re none of her business and that was that.”

Danny’s skeptical
look was irritating as hell.

“What, I’m gonna
get into all that?  Who wants to hear that shit?” 

“Uh, she probably
does.  Women want to know everything about the people they’re in love with. 
They’re weird like that.”

“She’s not in love
with me.  Don’t be stupid, Mac.  We’ve…hung out…a few times, but it’s nothing
serious.”

Liar. 

“Oh, she’s in love
with you, dude.  No doubt about it.  And you’re in love with her.”

Nathan wanted to
laugh.  He wanted to laugh and scoff and guffaw and slap his own knee in
hilarity. 

Unfortunately, the
best he managed was a strangled huff.  “I’m not in love with her.  I like her –
she’s…nice.  And interesting.  But there’s no such thing as ‘being in love.’
Especially not where I’m coming from.”

“Yeah, you’re
probably right.”  Danny fiddled with the radio and settled on the sports
station.  “Well, in that case, I’ll wait out your ‘nice, interesting’ time with
her and then go for her.  I’m into hot sex and good food.” 

Nathan knew Danny
was baiting him, but it didn’t matter.  “If I so much catch you looking at her
sideways…”  Nathan made sure Danny met his eyes.  “I’m not playing around,
Danny.  Stay the
fuck
away from her.  She’s off-limits, got it?”

Danny laughed. 
“Nope.  Not in love with her at all.  Definitely not.”  He shook his head. 
“You poor, poor bastard.”

“
9…Patrol 7
needs back up.  Stat
.”

Nathan pushed the
radio button.  “Go ahead.”

“Domestic
disturbance.  A woman called saying her husband physically assaulted her and
their five year old daughter.  7 is there, but the husband is drunk and
abusive.”

Nathan’s jaw
ground down hard.  “Address?”

“659 Everly
Garden.”

“10-4. We’re en
route.”

***

“We’ve got a few
injuries coming in via ambulance.  Little girl and her mom.  The police are
accompanying one guy under arrest,” Esther called out to the nursing station at
large.

The back bay doors
swished open and all available nurses ran to assist.  The first stretcher
rolled in.  Eduardo, one of the EMTs, gave Stella and her colleagues the low
down.

“Female.  33 years
old.  Multiple contusions, lacerations, and possibly a broken wrist.” 

Stella visually
assessed the woman, her chest tightening. 

She’d been beaten. 
Badly.  She had a bleeding head wound and at least one black eye already
forming.