Yeah, what’s new?

But it’s her last email that sends ice water through my veins, chilling every part of me.

William called yesterday, wanted to know where you were. He said you weren’t returning his phone calls and that he had some business related questions for you. I told him where you are, but told him that you were taking the summer off. I hope that was okay.

I take a ragged breath.

Then another.

I told him where you are.

He knows where I am.

With shaking fingers, I answer her email.

I’m sorry. Like I told you the other day, I feel responsible for Brand. He got injured because of me. I’ll definitely come home soon for tea. It’s okay that you told William where I am. I’m sure he just has a simple question or something.

It’s not okay. Not at all.

But she doesn’t know what he did.

I hit ‘send’ and close my laptop.

As I walk through the house, I find Brand sitting in front of the windows again. Instead of staring out at the lake, his gaze is firmly fixed on the box his mother had brought. It stands out starkly against the white wood that it’s sitting on.

He’s staring at it so intently that he doesn’t even realize I’m watching him.

The look on his face is painful. Intent, hurt, vulnerable.

I can only imagine what might’ve happened to him in the past. But from the way he’s staring at that freaking box, it must have something to do with his father.

With a sigh, I continue on to the kitchen to make some hot tea.

I guess we both have secrets.

I keep mine closed away in the furthest, darkest place in my heart. I’m sure Brand does the same. I’m also sure that I’ll never know about them until he’s good and ready to share.

Sipping at my tea, I slouch in a kitchen chair. Looking around, I try and imagine the days when this cozy little cabin was bustling with life. Apparently, Jacey and Gabe spent every summer here with their grandparents, and Brand was here a lot.

Because I’d done a little bit of digging, I know that Brand’s parents’ house is just down the road. When we drove here, he didn’t even point it out.

There’s bad blood there, obviously. I just can’t imagine what a guy like him could possibly have done to make his own parents turn on him.

The sound of the shower running jars me from my thoughts and I look up in alarm. Brand isn’t supposed to get the dressings on his thigh wet. God, he’s stubborn.

I leap out of the chair and sprint down the hall, throwing open the bathroom door.

Brand is completely naked, balanced against the bathroom sink as he prepares to maneuver himself into the shower.

He’s surprised to see me, and I’m frozen as I stare at him.

He’s absolutely beautiful naked.

It’s like he’s been sculpted from marble by a skilled master. Michelangelo, perhaps. I suck in a breath, unable to take my eyes away from him.

Rippled abs.

Chiseled pecs.

Thighs like steel.

And then, then…

My eyes travel south.

Dear Lord.

Brand clears his throat. “My eyes are up here, Miss Greene.”

I flush a thousand shades of red as I yank my gaze up to meet his. His eyes are filled with amusement…at my expense.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“You’re not supposed to shower,” I stammer. “You’re supposed to sponge off this week. Remember?”

Brand rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“I don’t need to remember. Apparently you remember for me.”

I toss him a towel and regrettably, he wraps it around his hips, hiding his glorious body before he grabs his crutches.

“I don’t have the first clue how to take a sponge bath,” he grumbles as he limps past me.

“Me either,” I tell him. “But we can figure it out.”

We.

The butterflies start flying again, hard and fast, in my stomach. Brand turns to look at me.

“We?”

I nod. “Yeah. What kind of nurse would I be if I didn’t help? Go lie down on your bed. I’ll be there in a minute with the stuff.”

Brand rolls his eyes and mutters beneath his breath, but he hobbles away. I rush to the kitchen and get a huge bowl of warm water before I stop at the hall closet for washcloths, towels and soap. My hands shake the entire time.

What the hell am I doing?

Why is he letting me do it?

He must want me to.

That knowledge, that theory, fuels me on and forces me into his bedroom. My window of opportunity to be with this man is closing by the day.

I can’t waste it.

Grow a pair, Nora.

I set the bowl down on his nightstand and glance down. He’s reclining on his back, his towel covering his midriff and groin. His hands are behind his head and he’s every inch casual and cool as he waits for me.

I wonder if he’s as anxious on the inside as I am?

Of course not. Because he doesn’t know what I have planned.

He glances at me.

“So, where do we start?”

His voice is husky and sexy and….gah. I want to run out of the room and hide in my own, because I don’t know what I’m doing here.

I only know what I want.

I want him.

“We start by washing off your arms,” I tell him, calmly and professionally, as I move to his side. He grins up at me.

“Sure.” He holds his arm up. “Go ahead, nurse.”

I take a breath, grab the cloth, and run it along the hardened contours of his arm. Where most people are soft, he’s as solid as a rock.

“Other one,” I say softly, re-wetting the cloth. I circle the bed and wash the other one, the one with the tattoo on his forearm.

Though I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil.

“Were you scared overseas?” I ask candidly as I run the cloth over the words. Brand opens his eyes.

“Of course.”

Of course. It was a stupid question. It just doesn’t seem like he’d be scared of anything.

“Being brave doesn’t mean not being afraid, Nora,” Brand tells me, lifting his ocean blue eyes to meet mine. “It means being afraid and doing it anyway.”

“Doing it?” I ask.

Brand shrugs. “It can be anything. Whatever it is that you’re doing, whatever it is that you’re afraid of.”

I’m doing this. Right now.

Because I want him. I want him this summer and he’s not getting it. He’s not making any moves even though I’m here and I’m available, and I want him. There’s only one way to make him see… I have to be as blunt as a man.

I can do this.

Because I’m brave.

I’m brave.

I’m brave.

I’m fucking brave.

I re-wet my cloth and without a word of warning, I pull the corner of his towel back, then pull it entirely off.

Brand’s eyes fly open, then fix on my face. He doesn’t say a word, but I can see him holding his breath. His flat abdomen isn’t moving.

I dip the cloth down his side, over the rippled muscle. I can feel him through the cloth, his warmth soaking into my fingers.

I pass his hip, his delicious, sexy hip. In my head, I envision it flexing as he straddles me. I flush, and gulp.

I’m brave.

I’m fucking brave.

I take a breath, and my fingers keep moving. Another breath and the cloth glides downward.

Then Brand’s hand covers my own, stopping me.

“I think I can get that part.”

I look down at him, and he’s staring at me in apprehension….because he doesn’t know what I’m doing… or what I want. I don’t know either. All I know is….I’m doing it now. Before it’s too late and he’s out of my life and I never have another chance.

“Brand, I have a proposition to make.”

My words cut the slice through the tension.

He levels a gaze at me, his eyes so fucking blue. “I’m listening.”

His hand is still covering mine. It’s warm and strong and I can hear the pulse rushing through my ears in a roar.

“I’ve wanted you since I was twelve years old. You’re here for the summer and so am I. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again and I don’t want to look up from my desk at Greene Corp when I’m seventy and have regrets because I didn’t do this.”