Angel Falling (Falling #1)(5)
Oliver pulled out his phone and stepped off to the side. “Ms. Reynolds is going to need to hire a full–time, highly-skilled nurse … ” I heard him talking softly as he walked out into the hall. Worth every penny, my Ollie was.
“Can I see him?”
“Of course. He should awaken soon. I’ll take you to him.”
I waved at Oliver who followed a few paces behind us. The Dean led us through a series of doors where machines beeped like a metronome, keeping the pace of the healing process. The hospital held the sour odor of disinfectant and vapor rub as we made our way through the halls. I pinched the bridge of my nose to combat the stench. Hospitals reminded me of death.
Ms. Maxwell led me to a closed door. “Go on in. We haven’t been able to reach any of his family.”
“Me either,” I confirmed. “If you do, please let me know.”
She nodded and then walked away. I entered the room while Oliver took a seat just outside the door, phone still held to his ear.
The room was surprisingly large, but my eyes didn’t take in much besides the man lying in the bed. His torso was bare, a thin blanket folded at his waist. A large bandage covered his entire left shoulder.
I walked over to get a better look at my sleeping savior. He was a giant: had to be well over six-feet tall, with thick, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and washboard abs. My heart pounded as I took in every inch of one of the most beautiful bodies I’d ever seen. No farmers tan. All smooth golden skin.
Hank Jenson was a work of art. A smattering of dark hair trailed down past his belly button, the rest hidden from view by the blanket. In sleep, he looked kind, with chiseled features that could have graced any of the big screens or modeling shoots my company managed. Surrounded by beautiful people day-in and day-out in my line of work, I’d never met anyone who could take my breath away. Until now.
I sat down in the chair next to his bed. Thoughts swam through my head, replaying the day’s events. I reached across the bed and tentatively clasped his hand. It wasn’t soft like the hands of a man used to the finer things in life. Hank’s hands were those of a worker. A blue-collared man who spent his days out in the sun, building things with his bare hands. I felt the roughness of his callouses against my palm and a rush of adrenaline shot down my spine.
This man saved my life.
Chapter 2
Something tickled. It felt as though a feather glided up my arm, starting at my wrist and ending at the crook of my elbow, then back down. Felt nice. I tried to move. Pain exploded through my chest and forced a jagged burst of air out my clenched teeth. Searing hot prickles licked across my body and I groaned. The tickle stopped and a hand as soft as silk encased mine. What the hell?
“It’s okay, Hank. I’m here.” A woman’s voice registered in my ears.
I turned my head toward the voice and opened my eyes. A clouded figure stood at my bedside clutching my hand. The softened halo around the form brightened and crisp edges appeared. My angel. Relief soothed its way through every inch of me, coating the hurt a little. A wide smile split across dry lips as things came into complete focus. Damn, the woman was beautiful. Gray-blue eyes shone bright against the dark of her suit and pearl nature of her pale skin. Her sculpted brows nit together as she studied me.
“Angel, my beautiful angel.” My voice came out raspy. Confusion set in and I searched the space. How did I get here? Why was she at my bedside? Why was I in bed? It was obvious from the white walls down to the scratchy starched sheets that I was in a hospital room. I tried to adjust my shoulders to relieve the heavy ache that weighed me down but fiery pokers lanced even the tiniest movement.
She scampered over to a side table and returned with a pink cup. With a straw held between her fingers she brought the plastic to my lips and I drank eagerly. My throat was drier than the bales of hay I feed my horses.
After I drank my fill, I watched as she fiddled with her jacket, straightening wrinkles that didn’t exist. Her teeth bit down on the pink of her bottom lip, and I felt my heart thud against my chest.
“What happened?” I remembered very little. My left wrist had something tugging and pulling at the skin. I moved my right hand over to feel it and realized there was an IV. I did a mental check of my body, starting at my toes. They moved easy enough. My legs seemed heavier, and every last twinge or slight movement of my upper body hurt. The pain was bad, but tolerable. It wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t move. My left shoulder seemed to be the worst. Kind of like a burned out hollow oak tree. It was still there but not in any working order.
With caution, I moved the right one. It functioned without problem, though still heavier than normal. Must be pumping drugs through that IV. When I tried to move the left shoulder again it was as if all the nerves in my body went on alert and rushed to that area to scream in unison. My teeth clenched, holding back the groan dying to get out.
“Mr. Jensen,” she started. “You were in an accident. The crane broke and …”
“I remember that much, Darlin’. What I don’t remember is how I ended up here with a busted wing.”
Her eyes ran over my chest. When I caught her staring she looked away, face turning a soft pink. I rather liked the color on her pretty skin. “Um, well, you jumped in front of me. One of the metal pipes pierced your shoulder. You’ve been in surgery the past few hours.” Her eyes came back to mine. “I can’t believe you would do that for a … ”