Ethan's Daughter. Rachel Brimble
smiled softly. “This is kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
“That’s definitely one way to put it.” She inhaled a long breath and turned her detective skills on full blast. “But telling me what happened might help level out the crazy.”
His eyes shadowed and he shifted his focus to his hand. “Doesn’t that part come after I put Daisy to bed?”
She stared at his profile. He sounded on edge, but not snappishly so. Did he want to tell her? Did he need to tell her? “You can tell me what happened, you know. It doesn’t mean I’m going to freak out. I’ve seen all there is to see working in the ER.”
He raised his head. “It would be better all round if you stitched me up and forgot about me and Daisy.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
His jaw tightened, but his gaze seemed to plead with her. “You have to. It’s for the best.”
“For who? You? Me? Daisy? Whatever you’re hiding is clearly dangerous, a threat to both you and her. I’m not prying. I care, okay? You look so...”
“What?” His eyes darkened with challenge. “Angry? Pissed? Afraid?”
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Alone. You look alone.”
The silence stretched and Leah’s heart beat hard as his study darted over her face, lingered a moment at her mouth. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on so I can decide what the hell I’m going to do about it.
When it was clear no revelation would be forthcoming anytime soon, she forced her concentration to his hand. There was something about this man and his daughter that had caught her. When she looked into their eyes, something unfathomable lingered. Almost as though she was meant to walk along that beach, meant to meet them...which was insane.
But she was still here. Still tending, nurturing, caring. And she would continue to do that until her duty was done. Walking away wasn’t an option.
She gently lowered his hand and eased back the dishcloth. “This is one nasty gash, but I’m going to do the best I can. I need you to walk with me to the sink. Okay?”
Supporting his injured hand, Leah cupped his elbow with her other hand, and together they progressed slowly to the sink. She turned on the tap. “This might sting a little.”
Carefully, she eased his hand forward, and the lukewarm water washed away the congealing blood to reveal the cut beneath. She leaned closer. “Good, the wound isn’t as deep as I thought. I can stitch you up, but the dressings are going to need changing every day until I can remove the stitching. I don’t want to risk infection, so I’ll pop back here after work tomorrow, if you like.”
“Here?”
The panic in his voice jolted her gaze to his. She sighed. “Yes, here, Mr. James. You’re my patient now and I’m willing to treat you at home...if I decide your reasons for not going to the hospital are reasonable and there’s no danger to your daughter.”
His jaw tightened. “There’s no danger to Daisy.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m her father and I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“I found her on the beach, Mr. James. I’m going to need more than that.”
“Ethan.”
Leah frowned. “What?”
His gaze bored into hers. “I think we’re past surnames, don’t you?”
Leah softly smiled. “I guess we are. Leah.”
His focus lingered on her face so intensely, she looked again to the wound, steadfastly fighting the sudden warmth in her stomach. He wasn’t to be trusted or liked...at least not until she knew the full story and was convinced he had no part in causing the violence that had clearly occurred before she arrived. He was a patient. A father to a young child, no less.
She guided his hand back under the water, tightening her grip slightly when he sucked in a breath. She gently traced the area around the wound with her finger. “Nice and steady. That’s it. Right, that should do it.” She turned off the tap and pulled some kitchen paper from the roll by the sink. She patted his hand dry. “Okay, back to the table while I sterilize a needle and some thread.”
She helped him sit down, inching up his elbow to keep the wound elevated, then opened the sewing kit and extracted a sharp needle and some thread. She studied both before glancing at Ethan.
He raised his eyebrows. “Will that work all right?”
Always fill the patient with confidence and ease. She plastered on a smile. “Absolutely. This will be no problem at all.”
She carried the needle and thread to the counter and poured boiling water into a saucer before submerging her makeshift suture equipment. Pretending not to feel his gaze on her, she took a clean dish towel from the pile beside the kettle and filled it with ice from the freezer.
“Here, press this firmly to the wound. If you can, make a fist. It’ll be freezing, but the number the area, the better. I’m going to check on Daisy.”
“Leah...”
“Yes?”
His eyes searched hers before he shook his head. “Nothing.”
Leah relaxed her tense shoulders. He wanted to talk to her; wanted to trust her. She was certain of it. That alone gave her reason to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. He was clearly nervous about something, and if she could, she’d help him. “I’ll be right back.”
As she walked into the hallway, she released her held breath. So the man was in trouble. The question was, did he have the courage and confidence to let her help him?
* * *
BY THE TIME Leah had stitched and bandaged his hand, it neared nine before Ethan managed to get Daisy into bed. He left her bedroom door slightly ajar and slowly walked to the top of the stairs. The smooth jazz he’d put on the stereo filtered toward him, along with the smells of the Chinese food he’d felt compelled to order. The chink of glasses and then the pop of a cork meant Leah had found the wine rack and opened the bottle he’d asked her to pour.
The truth was he needed her gone, but how was he supposed to do that without further rousing her suspicions? Her professional interest was obvious every time she looked at him. The woman was a nurse, for crying out loud. What were the chances? Would she be duty-bound to call the police?
It was bad enough that Daisy had walked out of the house without him noticing, but for a nurse to find her? He wouldn’t be surprised if the authorities came knocking. He glanced toward Daisy’s room. She refused to tell him why she’d wandered off the way she did, but at least it had been before Anna, his ex-wife, had turned up on his doorstep after a five-year absence. The woman had lost it the moment he’d refused to give her the money she demanded from him.
If he threw Leah out without at least the offer of food and drink after everything she’d done tonight, he was pretty sure she’d be calling the cops the minute she was out the door.
Not that he’d entirely blame her.
He had no choice other than to play nice if he had any chance of keeping silent about what had happened before Leah brought Daisy home.
He descended the stairs and walked into the living room. He lived in luxury. His earnings were good from his writing, his notoriety under control. The last thing he wanted was his name in the press for all the wrong reasons. He’d come to the Cove with Daisy after Anna left them, and it was the best move he’d ever made—for both himself and his daughter.
Sure, he was a recluse. Not many people knew, or cared, that a bestselling novelist lived in this small coastal town. Whenever he decided to venture into the town center, the residents never bothered him. Daisy had friends. What more did