The Home Is Where The Heart Is Collection. Maisey Yates
took a step forward and then another. “I don’t believe you,” she said calmly.
The rough sound he made wasn’t quite a laugh, but close. “Who said you had to?”
His blue eyes gleamed silver in the moonlight and flames, his mouth set in grooves of pain. He had his elbow up on the back of the sofa and was resting his head on his hand as if his neck couldn’t bear the weight of it.
“What is it? Headache?” It seemed the logical choice, given his posture.
He made that rough sound again. “Something like that.”
“Can I get you something for it?” She held out the bottle in her hand. “I was on my way to take a couple of ibuprofen. I only came out for a glass of water.”
“I have medicine for it. I was just...delaying the inevitable.”
He reached out and flipped on the lamp beside the sofa and she saw the prescription bottle on the table at his elbow.
“I’ll get you some water,” she offered. Without waiting for a response, she crossed to the cupboard by the sink for two glasses then filled them from the filtered water pitcher in the refrigerator before returning to his side.
“Thanks,” he said when she handed him one. “You know you don’t have to wait on me.”
“It’s only a glass of water. I didn’t exactly offer to wash your feet with my tears.”
He made that same rough, not-quite-a-laugh sound, sending shivers up her spine. She did her best to ignore them. She was not going to give in to this unwelcome attraction, especially right now. The man was in pain, for heaven’s sake.
“Go on. Take your medicine so you can feel better. You’re not proving anything, except your own stubbornness.”
“That sounds like something my mother would have said.”
“You can consider me your surrogate mother, then.”
He gave her an unreadable look. “Yeah, that’s not about to happen.”
The words seemed to shiver between them like the echo of sleigh bells on the night air.
After a moment, he shook out a couple of pills from the bottle and washed them down in one gulp.
“There. Now your turn.”
Apparently, they were bonding over pain medication. These few days were turning into the most surreal of her life. Under his watchful eye, she took out a couple of ibuprofen and swallowed them back. The cold water tasted delicious and she took several more swallows.
“There. Happy now?”
“Getting there. Tell me the truth. Are you having a lot of pain from the accident?”
“No, not really. Just a bit achy. I thought a couple of ibuprofen would take the edge off. What about yours? Migraine?”
He was silent for a several moments and she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. She had the impression he was having one of those personal debates with himself like she always did.
Finally, he seemed to reach some kind of internal decision. His sigh sounded weary and a little self-conscious. “The truth is, I had brain surgery eleven weeks ago. I still have some residual headaches once in a while.”
She stared at him, quite certain she hadn’t heard him correctly. Of all the things she might have expected him to say, she never would have anticipated that answer.
“Brain surgery! You’re not serious?”
“I could be wrong, but I don’t believe most people would throw those particular words out as some kind of a joke.”
She sank down onto the easy chair next to the sofa. “Why did you... I mean...are you... Is everything okay now?”
He lifted one palm. “As far as the docs can tell. I had a brain tumor. Benign, thank God, though they weren’t sure of that at first.”
A brain tumor. Dear heavens. She tried to imagine how terrifying that must have been for a man like Aidan: successful, powerful, used to being completely in control of his own empire. His genius was legendary, even to someone outside of the tech world. Trent had been a huge fan, naturally, and used to rave about Aidan’s cutting-edge ideas. He was Caine Tech—brilliant, creative, innovative.
And apparently he had a brain tumor.
“After they figured out it was benign, they wanted to leave it alone but it started growing at a rather alarming rate so they decided it was best to remove it.”
Eleven weeks. Not even three months. How had he concealed it so well? She hadn’t seen so much as a scar. “Have you had the headaches since the surgery?”
“At first they were constant but the last month they’ve eased to once or twice a week.”
She still couldn’t imagine that, after her own experience the past thirty-six hours with pain.
“Besides the headaches is everything...okay?”
“You mean is my cognitive function impaired? Am I having hallucinations or seizures or anything? You’re the second one to ask me that today. I’m fine. I’ve had a little memory loss from right before the surgery and right after but that’s the extent of it. The doctors tell me my recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. I wouldn’t have even mentioned it if you hadn’t come in tonight and caught me in an unguarded moment.”
“I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He waved off her apology. “No need to apologize. You have every right to be here.”
“Does anything help? A warm compress? A cold one?”
“I’m fine. Usually I just need to sit in a dark room for a while.”
She rose again. “In that case, I’ll get out of your way.”
“You don’t have to leave. I’m already feeling better. You were right, I shouldn’t have been stubborn about the medication. I don’t like some of the side effects but the headache is worse than a few minor inconveniences. Sit down if you’d like.”
He wanted her to stay. Though he didn’t specifically say so, she saw a certain shadow of loneliness in his eyes, a sort of wistful hesitance in the invitation.
She paused, torn. A winter night, a flickering fire, a gorgeous, fascinating man. All in all, a dangerously irresistible combination.
How could she possibly walk away?
She sank back into the easy chair with an odd feeling of inevitability. “For a few moments. I really need to at least try to sleep tonight. I have it on good authority my new employer is a harsh taskmaster.”
“I’m sure he’s not as bad as his reputation.”
“I will have to judge that for myself, I suppose.”
In light of the information he had just shared with her, a few more pieces of the Aidan Caine puzzle seemed to click into place. “Your brain tumor is the reason you’ve invited your family to Snow Angel Cove for the holidays, isn’t it?”
He sipped at his water instead of answering but she knew suddenly she was right.
Like many people facing a personal crisis, he was turning to those who had loved him all his life—for comfort, for support, perhaps simply for a connection to the familiar.
The insight made her heart ache a little for him, even as she was aware of a tweak of envy that he had such a huge circle he could gather around him.
“I hate to mention this, but I’m going to have to insist you don’t say anything to anyone else about what I just told you,” Aidan said.
She bristled, that moment of soft compassion giving way to annoyance that he would think she was