Junk Mail(24)

I freeze, my mouth falling open as I stutter, grasping for words to correct her on her assumption. To my surprise, Josh is unfazed. He reaches out and shakes the paramedic’s hand, returning her forced smile with a genuine one.

“Sounds perfect. Thank you for all your help. We’ll follow your ambulance.”

The last of the medics pile into the second ambulance and they peel off down the road, with Josh and me right behind them in his car. He holds my hand as he drives, steering with the heel of his left hand. He keeps his attention glued to the road, and I try to do the same, but every part of me desperately wants to lean over the console and kiss him, to pour all my gratitude from my mouth to his.

“I owe you one,” I finally whisper as Josh turns the car into the hospital parking lot. It’s not how I want to express my thanks, but it’ll do for now.

“You don’t owe me anything, Peyton.”

I shake my head, a shaky sigh escaping my lips. “I don’t know what we would’ve done if your insurance didn’t cover the ambulance.”

One corner of Josh’s mouth twitches into the cutest half smile as he shifts the car into park. “Insurance doesn’t cover it, actually. I knew if I told you otherwise, you wouldn’t have agreed,” he says, combing his fingers through his wet hair. “But I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you.”

As he turns his head, pointing those sharp blue eyes and that adorable smile my way, a flutter builds in my chest, his words echoing in my head.

He’s got me.





Chapter Fifteen


Peyton



“All right, Gram, I think that’s about the last of it.”

This has to be the fourth or fifth basket of Gram’s makeup and hair products that I’ve lugged downstairs from her bathroom. I always knew my grandmother was much hipper than me, but who knew she’d have multiple contouring kits?

After setting the basket down next to the others, I scan the living room, now full of all of Gram’s belongings, searching for anything we might have missed.

One end table was easily converted into a bedside table, and the linen closet in the hall is now filled with all her clothes. Josh, being the angel he is, has been here helping out since first thing this morning. And thank the Lord for him, because it would have been a complete disaster if I tried to get Gram’s bed down the stairs by myself. Even with the extra help, we still had to face the obstacle of Gram trying to block the staircase with her walker, insisting that she could just sleep on the couch. Like her back isn’t messed up enough.

“Looks like we’re all set,” I say, surveying our surroundings. “You should be entirely able to function on the first floor only.”

“Thank you so much, you two. Although I still think I could’ve made it up and down the stairs once a day to go to bed.” Gram looks at Josh, her eyes filled with hope that he’ll side with her, but he just chuckles and shakes his head, lifting his hands in surrender.

“I’m staying out of that argument. I just want you to recover as fast as you can. So if there’s anything else you need, just say the word.”

Gram’s mouth stretches open in a gaping yawn. “What I need right now is a nap, I think.” She scoots across the carpet with her walker and lowers herself onto her bed, testing the springs with a few careful bounces. “And wouldn’t you know it, I’m already in my new bedroom.”

“We’ll give you your privacy,” I say, tilting my head toward the staircase. “I’ve got laundry to fold anyway. And, Josh, I’m sure you have a million and one more important things to be doing on a Saturday.”

Josh scrunches his brow. “I don’t have anything to rush off for. I’m more than happy to lend a hand with laundry, if you want.”

Without even looking Gram’s way, I can feel her look piercing through me, urging me to take him up on the offer. When I don’t say anything right away, she lets out the biggest, most dramatic fake yawn I’ve ever heard.

“Yeah, I’m pooped. Peyton, you must be real tired too. A little help with laundry would probably go a long way.”

I can barely hold back my eye roll. Apparently, even a minor back injury can’t dethrone the queen of subtlety.

Don’t get me wrong, I would love for Josh to stick around. Actually, I think I might want him to stay a little too much. When he showed up at the door this morning with a box of doughnuts and a positive attitude about the manual labor I had in store for him, I could have ripped the man’s clothes off then and there. And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t get a level of enjoyment out of seeing him move furniture. The way his muscles rippled when he moved that bed sent a shock wave through my veins. And I’m fairly certain Gram noticed.

“It’s up to you.” I shrug, doing my best to play it cool as I switch off the lights in what is now Gram’s bedroom.

With Josh close behind, I pad down the hall, my socks sliding on the hardwood all the way to the base of the stairs where my laundry basket of clean socks awaits. I scoop it up and rest it against my hip.

“Here, let me.” Josh reaches to take the basket from me, but I swivel away, moving it out of his grasp.

“Let me carry this one thing. You’ve been hauling furniture around all day like a regular Hercules. I think I can handle one little laundry basket.”