The Heart of Grace

“Actually, your wife has a better plan.”

He refused to look at Larissa, though he could feel her in the room. If he looked, he might weaken.

“I don’t like her plan. Send me to rehab.”

“You have a healing concussion. I can’t be certain you’re able to make the best decisions for yourself at this time.”

“Meaning?”

“In my judgment, since Mrs. Michaels is your legal wife, she is the more appropriate decision-maker at this time. I’m going to dismiss you tomorrow morning into her care.”

Drew shot upright but pain slammed him right back down. He lay back against the pillow, too breathless to speak.

“Everything will be fine, Mr. Michaels. Just be sure to see your doctors in Tulsa. Have them call for your records.” He took a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Larissa. If Drew had been able to get a good breath, he would have complained. This was his life. What was the matter with this crazy doctor?

Giving him a pat on the shoulder, the doctor departed. Drew was furious.

Larissa, her perfume pure torture, moved closer to set her gifts on the nightstand. A teddy bear balloon. Normally, he’d make some wise remark about that, but he was too angry. She was destroying his plan.

“I hope you’re not upset.” She fiddled with the balloon.

By now, he’d found his breath and his voice. “Just what do you think you’re trying to pull?”

“Dr. Spacey and I were discussing your dismissal.”

“Yeah, I overheard.”

“Good. Then you already know. You are not going to a rehab. You’re going home. To our home where you belong.”

“What did you do, convince him I’m crazy?”

She found where his fist was clenched against the bedsheet and tugged his hand into hers. He tried to resist, but for once, a woman was stronger than him. Imagine, too weak to resist a girl.

Violet eyes smiled down at him. “Get used to it, Drew. You married a woman who plans strategy for political campaigns. I outmaneuvered you.”

“I’m not going back to Tulsa.”

She bent down and kissed his cheek. He thought he’d die of pleasure. “Yes, you are. Tomorrow morning.”

With an angry huff, he jerked his hand away. But he was no fool. He knew he’d been beaten.

He was about to spend the next few months convincing the woman he loved more than life, that he couldn’t stand her.

This was not going to be fun. His stomach curled in anguish. Not fun at all.

Chapter Four

Drew jangled the tiny bell Larissa had placed at his bedside for that purpose. When no one appeared he threw the blanket aside and sat up. One hand under his cast, he gingerly swung the leg overboard—and then wished he hadn’t.

Pain shot from his toes up his leg and into his brain in point-zero-two seconds.

With a hiss, he gritted his teeth to keep from screaming like a baby.

He sat there for a moment, one hand on his ribs, the other on his leg until his breath returned and the pain settled to a piercing howl.

His whole body trembled, a condition that infuriated him. If he could get his strength back, he could be mobile. Having never been dependent on anyone in his life, he hated the helpless feeling.

Five days back in Tulsa and he was still so mad he could spit. How had Larissa managed this? How had she manipulated him into living under the same roof with her again?

To make the situation even more difficult, she had moved him into the downstairs guest room and then surrounded him with luxury. She’d filled it with things he enjoyed, including a plasma TV mounted on the wall and a remote to open and close the drapes. A remote no less, so he could look out onto the backyard at will. She’d put enormous effort into making the room comfortable.

That was the problem. She was killing him with kindness and making him love her more, instead of less. He needed to get out of here and do it fast, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

No matter how much he growled and fussed and acted like a general creep, Larissa kept smiling and bringing him goodies. But he was a detail man. He could see the hurt she tried to hide, and he hated himself for putting it there. But he had to. Someday she’d thank him for it. Someday, when he could get out of her life for good.

Despising himself, he pressed the window remote and opened the drapes to stare broodingly at the yard.

Though Tulsa moved toward winter’s end, the weather here was unpredictable. One day would be springlike, the next day snow or ice. Today was sunny, and the television claimed that temperatures were decent enough to be outside.

He’d spent too many years outdoors to appreciate much time inside a building. No matter how much he hurt, he was as restless as a windshield wiper.

Larissa’s backyard, like her house, was pretty, even in winter. Birds pecked at feeders and flitted among the glossy green holly bushes. Wrought iron benches beckoned him to come out and play around the koi pond.

If only he had his camera equipment he could at least get some shots.

He rang the bell again, more insistent this time. Where was she? The more he annoyed her, the sooner she’d give up and send him to rehab. And he definitely was cranky enough to annoy anyone, even himself.

He’d slept away the first few days back, not caring much about anything. If his information was correct, he’d slept most of the last three weeks. But now he was awake and in a bad mood.

“Larissa!” he yelled and the effort set his ribs to aching.

As if she’d been standing outside the door waiting for him to hurt himself, his wife materialized. Dressed in trendy jeans and a sweater with too-long sleeves that was somehow exactly right on her, she took his breath away. Or she would have if he hadn’t already lost it to the rib pain. Coco, the funny little Yorkie he’d bought two years ago to keep her company, trotted in behind.

“Do you need something?” She hovered in the doorway, anxious to help.

She’d been like this since his arrival and he was pretty tired of it. Sweet and kind and accommodating. Why couldn’t she just hate him and get it over with?

“I’m bored.” Coco trotted over and sniffed his toes. He wiggled away the tickle, frowning. “Go away, mutt.”

Larissa’s giggle washed over him as she came in and perched on a chair too close to his bedside. Her perfume came with her and tantalized him. All day long, he had to smell that delicious, irritating perfume.

“Okay. What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

His frown deepened. She was way too chipper. “Your attitude.”

Her lush lips quirked at the corners. “My attitude?”

Okay, so he was the one in the foul mood. “Yeah, your attitude. Stop behaving like a servant. I don’t like it.”