Vowing to be His hero - Granite County 4 http://www.bookstrand.com/vowing-to-be-his-hero
Bishop used the
small lock opening device attached to his key ring and popped open the lock on
the solid oak door. Entering the house, he found a small man lying on the floor
a few feet away. Bishop’s breath caught in his throat when he got a good look
at the guy. The first thing he saw was the long blond hair that reached past
the man’s shoulders. Even though the guy
was wearing gray sweatpants that hung past his feet and a sweatshirt whose
sleeves covered his hands, Bishop could still tell he was fine boned and tiny.
Setting Crystal
on the floor, Bishop knelt down next to the guy, trying to evaluate his
condition. Crystal meowed and the guy extended a shaky hand toward the cat.
“Let me get her
out for you,” he said. Something inside Bishop wanted to give this man comfort
any way he could.
Taking the cat
out of the carrier, he went to put her into the man’s arms, but she leaped away
and ran across the room.
All of a sudden,
there was the sound of screeching and wings frantically flapping, followed by
Crystal howling.
Springing to his
feet, Bishop ran to the corner and pulled Crystal off the side of a huge white
parakeet cage. The damn cat kept batting at the air as Bishop carried her over
to the little guy who was trying unsuccessfully to sit up.
Kneeling on the
floor, Bishop took a few minutes to get Crystal calmed down. She kept trying to
jump off his lap, her eyes never leaving the birdcage.
“I’m going to
give Crystal to you, and then I’ll pick you up and carry you to whatever bed
you are using.”
Big light brown
eyes widened, and a look of panic crossed
the man’s pretty face. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.
Bishop was
starting to become concerned but decided to go with his instincts. At least the
ones that were telling him to take things slowly so he didn’t frighten the
little guy even more than he already was.
“Are you Cooper?”
he asked and received a nod in return. “Look,
I don’t mean to scare you, but we need to get you to a bed so I can see how bad
you’re injured.”
Those beautiful
light brown eyes studied Bishop, seeming to see into his soul. It was a
struggle, but Bishop kept his face neutral. Cooper didn’t need to see that
Bishop was fighting the urge to lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his
soft-looking lips. Images of the blond, naked and wrapped around him, kept
trying to distract Bishop from the present. Finally,
Cooper nodded.
Keeping Crystal
secure with one hand, Bishop pushed the crutches out of the way. Leaning down, he placed Crystal next to Cooper. Thin
arms covered by gray material enclosed Crystal, and Cooper buried his face in her
fluffy white fur. Crystal rubbed her chin and furry cheek against Cooper’s head
and started purring
“I’m going to
lift you now. If I hurt you, I’m sorry,” Bishop said and carefully slid his
arms around Cooper. As gently as possible, he lifted the tiny man into his arms
and stood up.
Gritting his
teeth, Bishop stood there and took a moment to regain his composure. The little
blond in his arms had touched his heart and was stirring every possessive and
protective cell in Bishop’s body, all without saying a word.
Bishop estimated
that Cooper was around five foot six at the most and probably didn’t weigh much more than one hundred ten pounds.
That was way too thin. He was also clearly in a lot of pain. As far as Bishop was concerned, this Oliver dude was a dead man.
A cool,
trembling finger touched Bishop’s cheek. Bishop looked down into Cooper’s
beautiful light brown eyes. “What do you need, little bug?”
Both of their
eyes widened at the same time when he called Cooper that name. But in his
defense, it fit. The guy was as tiny as a bug and so cute.
Cooper blinked
and then pointed toward a hall. Crystal snuggled down into Cooper’s arms and continued
purring.
“I take it your
room is that way?” Bishop asked.
Cooper nodded.
Bishop glanced
around the room to get his bearings. To the left of the hall Cooper had
indicated was a large formal dining room. It contained a square oak table and
six cushioned wooden chairs. Behind the dining room, a marbled, green granite
counter topped an island that stood in the center of a huge open kitchen. He
also caught a glimpse of a small eating area off to the side. Farther back,
behind the kitchen, was a doorway. Bishop could see the corner of a clothes
washer and deducted that it was a utility room.
They made it
halfway down the short hall before Cooper indicated to a doorway on the right. Bishop
glanced through a doorway on the left into a large room he assumed was the master bedroom. He saw another door
down a bit on the right and figured it was another bedroom.
As with the rest
of the old one-story farmhouse, the
bedroom Bishop carried Cooper into had high ceilings and hardwood floors. Burgundy
sheets and a thick green plaid comforter were pushed down to the bottom of a
beautiful Jenny Lind spool bed. A matching dresser with a mirror and the
night table completed the warm,
inviting room.
Setting Cooper
down onto the bed, Bishop quickly shut the door before Crystal could decide to return
and harass the birds again. Turning back, Bishop instantly wished he was
approaching the man lying on the bed in a different scenario. Big, light brown
eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes, dominated a face that contained a cute
pert nose and plump lips that seemed to be begging Bishop for a kiss. The long
blond hair fanning out across the pillow was like a siren’s call that made the hair
on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation.
It was a known
fact that Bishop had a weakness for small
blonds, but this something that he felt in Cooper’s presence was a whole new ballgame. It was taking all of Bishop’s
self-control to keep his dick from springing into the air and demanding Cooper’s
attention. Attention, Bishop was sure, the wounded man had no interest in right
now.
Mrs. Peterson
had been right. Cooper’s beautiful eyes contained
deep pain, and not just the physical kind. During the time Bishop spent
in the Middle East, he had seen eyes like that, and they had haunted his dreams.
Bishop walked
over to Cooper and said, “Let’s put Crystal over here.” Lifting the cat, he put
her on the other side of Cooper, where she curled up on the bed against Cooper’s
side. “Synn told me you had stitches put
in. Are any of them giving you any pain right now?”
Cooper turned
his head away from Bishop and closed his eyes. A flush covered Cooper’s face, and the man failed to stop his lips from
trembling by pressing them together.
Bishop sat on
the edge of the bed, which brought those wide eyes back on him. There was a pad
of paper and a pencil on the small table. Bishop picked them up and handed them
to Cooper. When Cooper took them, Bishop noted that the hands peeking out of
the folds of his long sleeves were a deep red. Bishop had seen this on people
that were too thin before and remembered one of his teammates, Mr. MD, saying
it was caused by poor circulation. Again his hackles rose at someone
mistreating this man.
“What happened
to your voice?” he asked, deciding to start there.
The pencil
between Cooper’s fingers moved, and the words, “damaged vocal cords,” appeared
on the paper.
“Do the doctors think they will heal?” Bishop asked and
received a nod.
“Cooper, you
need to tell me what hurts so I can check it. There’s a spot on your pants that
looks like blood. I need to take a look at it.”
Cooper looked
down at his leg and put his hand over the spot. Looking back at Bishop, he shook his head.
“Why don’t you
want me to see your leg?” Bishop asked. He tried to keep his tone calm and
even, but now he put a little demand into it.
A look of shame
covered Copper’s face, and he scribbled, “Scars.”
“Everyone has
scars, Cooper. I have a few myself that are pretty gruesome.” Bishop saw that
the spot on Cooper’s leg was getting bigger, and his patience was running out.
“Many” appeared
on the paper.
Bishop slid his
hands under Cooper’s sweatshirt and took hold
of the waistband of his sweatpants. “I don’t care how many scars you have,
Cooper. We both know that if you ripped open those stitches when you fell, you will need to go back in and have them
fixed.”
Small hands
covered his, the material of the overlong shirtsleeves between them. Bishop looked
up and met Cooper’s eyes. Stark panic reflected back at him. Slowly it turned
to pleading. Bishop could already see that he was going to have his work cut
out for him in the future trying not to knuckle under when Cooper gave him that
sad puppy dog look.
Hardening his
resolve, Bishop calmly stared back until their test of wills ended when Cooper
let go of Bishop’s hands.
It took every
scrap of Bishop’s willpower not to react when
he slid Cooper’s pants down to his knees. Hundreds of silver and pink scars,
thin and thick, vertical and horizontal, covered Cooper’s slim, pale thigh. A rapidly spreading dark red
spot marred the pristine gauze wrapped around the other thigh.
“Did they give
you any first aid supplies?” Bishop asked.
When Cooper pointed
to a door on the far wall, Bishop wasn’t proud at how fast he left Cooper. Opening
the door revealed a Jack and Jill bathroom between Cooper’s room and the other
spare bedroom.
Bishop was a
big, tough, hard-assed man. Many times he had been accused of being mean,
unfeeling, and merciless by former lovers. And yet the tiniest blond he had ever met, who couldn’t even speak,
had him rushing out of the room with hated tears in his eyes.
He stood in the
bathroom staring at the light blue wall until he regained his composure and
anger started simmering under the surface.
No comments:
Post a Comment