Jeremiah by Kris Michaels
Chapter 4
Eden folded her jean-clad legs and leaned back in the overstuffed chair that sat in the corner of her kitchen. No doubt someone had placed it there for the cold winter days when the kitchen was the warmest room in the apartment. She’d kept it there because she loved sitting in it and drinking her first cup of coffee of the morning. Today, however, she barely noticed the coffee she was sipping. The man asleep on her couch held her attention. She’d heard him prowling the house at all hours of the night. The fact that her windows were shut and locked made her chuckle. There was something about trusting people this guy didn’t get. But that was big city living for you. She’d opened her kitchen window before she sat down. The smell of morning was too enticing to forgo for the man’s lock obsession.
It wasn’t the right thing to do but she took her time as she relaxed in her chair and examined him. He’d draped his leathers over the arm of the chair, his combat boots standing beside them with his socks lying over the top. He wore a pair of purple plaid boxers that formed to his ass like a second skin. His heavily muscled legs were very long and tucked so he could fit in the confines of the sofa. She let her eyes travel up to his wide back and huge arms, one of which was flopped over the back of the sofa. A tattoo of a snake wound around his arm, up his shoulder, and rested on one side of his neck. He had dark brown hair that was currently wild, sticking up in various places. She smiled as she sipped her coffee. He must have fallen asleep when it was wet.
The sound of a truck driving down the street drew her eyes toward the kitchen window. This little town had been her salvation. When she arrived just over four years ago, she’d wanted nothing to do with anyone in the town. She wanted to lick her wounds and mourn what she’d lost, but Hollister had another idea. The first week she’d had visits from everyone who lived in town. They filled her kitchen with preserves, pies, and cookies. The following week the women from the ranches showed up. They were some of the strongest women she’d ever met, yet they, too, made the new female doc welcome. She’d repeated nurse practitioner so many times that first month that it became a running joke, and the people of the town still introduced her wrong but gave her a wink.
The little town had a flow of its own that balanced around the ranches and so did the injuries that she tended to. Broken limbs, deep cuts, concussions, and crushed feet. The first time she saw the damage a bull could do to a human foot she became a devoted town dweller. There was nothing on the ranches that she needed or wanted to see. Etched on each of her patients’ faces was the evidence of a hard life, but the shock was these people loved what they did. They willingly cared for the stock and battled the elements that made the daily grind of ranching that much harder.
She smiled as the morning sun peeked into the window. The town would come to life shortly, but until then… She turned her attention back to the man on her couch. She leaned her head to the side. Zeke had used her couch frequently, but she’d never once ogled him the way she was admiring this dark stranger. Jeremiah Wheeler. His outside screamed bad boy and his demeanor countered that image. He was… exciting. She sighed. It had been years since she’d looked at a man the way she was looking at Jeremiah.
Her eyes lifted to her wedding picture on the shelf. Her husband, Riley, was a wonderful man. They were married for two years before he was killed. She’d lived double that time here in Hollister. The pace was slower, the people nice, and the prospect of a romantic relationship slim to none. At least, it was until Zeke started his practice after Doctor Coogan retired. Zeke made it obvious he wanted more than a friendship, but while it flattered her, she wasn’t excited. His touch didn’t set her on fire. She wished it had because Zeke was nice, but there was no spark for her.
She took another sip of her coffee and watched Jeremiah’s ribs expand and contract. The relief of his muscles under his skin was beautiful in a physical sense and unnerving in others. That the sculpted body attracted her to him answered several questions she’d been pondering. Had the desire she felt with Riley been a fluke? Her eyes traveled down the long, muscled body of the sleeping man. No. She thought Jeremiah, the dark-haired, green-eyed bad boy, was attractive, and she admitted she felt a pull toward him but not toward Zeke. Zeke was an attractive man, tall, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. Her friend Allison Sanderson swooned every time Zeke showed up. Eden chuckled quietly. Allison swooned every time any unattached man showed up. She’d fallen head over heels in love with at least twenty different men in the last three years without them ever speaking to her.
That hadn’t been the case for Eden, and until recently, that was okay. She’d healed. She hadn’t forgotten Riley, but the pain of losing him dulled, or rather muted. The awful ache that lived with her had turned into a sensation that she cherished instead of hated. Her short time with him had changed her and made her a better person. The time here in Hollister had allowed her to let him go yet still hold him close, something she didn’t think she’d ever be able to do, but the fact was she was lonely and was ready for another relationship.
Zeke and she had gone out several times, and the town probably had them married already, especially since he slept on her couch whenever he was in town late. But Allison had set the ladies of the Catholic-Protestant Sewing circle on their ears when one of them dared to intimate that they were living in sin. It was nice that her friend had defended her honor, but she didn’t care about gossip. Although this dark, sexy bad boy who had his Harley parked in her backyard would light up the gossip mongers for weeks. She smiled at the thought.
Jeremiah groaned and rolled onto his back, adjusting his length to the shorter couch. She glanced at his morning erection and almost choked on her last sip of coffee. The doctor had been blessed with… Eden jerked her eyes away from the man and stood up, heading for the coffee pot near the kitchen window. Dear Lord, she’d been ogling the man and sizing him up for… for what? It wasn’t like he was sticking around. She poured a cup and moved over to the window looking out on Main Street. It had been a long, long while since she wanted sex, and now wasn’t the best time for that urge to raise its head.
“Good morning.”
She jumped at Jeremiah’s deep voice behind her. He’d pulled on his leathers and a t-shirt while she’d been daydreaming. “Hey, would you like a cup of coffee? I’m going to fry a couple eggs for myself, and I have plenty if you’d like some breakfast.”
He smiled at her. “Coffee and eggs sound wonderful.” He grabbed a cup off the small shelf beside the machine. “That couch is comfortable. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? You were pacing about quite a bit last night.” And he didn’t look rested. She doubted he got much sleep at all.
“Yeah, strange places do that to me. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not for more than a moment.” She shook her head.
“I do appreciate you letting me crash here,” he smiled as he spoke.
“Anytime. Zeke sleeps there when he’s here late. He says the couch is comfortable.”
Jeremiah grabbed a kitchen chair and turned it around, straddling it as he faced her. “I’m not stepping on any toes by being here, am I?”
She blinked at him, trying to decode his question. “Toes?”
He lifted his coffee to his lips and blew across the top of the liquid before he spoke. “Do you and Zeke have something going on?” She watched transfixed as he took a sip. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Thanks, and no. I’ve gone out with Zeke twice. Both times as a friend, and he sleeps on the couch.” She grabbed a frying pan from inside the oven and put it on the burner.
Jeremiah’s eyebrows lifted. “Ouch, that must be a punch to the man’s pride.”
She turned and frowned. “Why would you say that?”
Jeremiah shrugged and stood up. He opened the refrigerator and took out the carton of eggs, handing it to her. “Well, from a masculine point of view, if I got up the nerve to ask a lady like you out and after two dates I was still on the couch, I’d be wondering what I’d done wrong.”
Eden snorted. “Dear Lord, you think highly of yourself, don’t you? Did you miss the part where I said friend?”
Jeremiah laughed and rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks colored. “Well, no, but…”
“Not buying it.” She nodded to the refrigerator. “Grab me that small coffee can in the fridge, would you?”
“Sure.” He dipped in and handed it to her. “Is that the secret to your fantastic coffee? Cold grounds?” Eden lifted the lid and showed him the inside. His eyes drew together. “What in God’s name is that?”
“Bacon grease. Everything’s better with bacon.” She shrugged. “I can use something else for your eggs, but you’d be missing out.”
Her guest’s eyes popped wide, and he jerked around before he asked, “Did you hear that?”
Concerned, Eden stopped and listened. There was nothing but the normal sounds of the old building and the town waking. “No, what did you hear?”
“The entire state of California just gasped. I can feel the oxygen suck from here.”
Laughing, she plopped a spoonful of grease into the pan and started the burner. “I have bacon-fried eggs once a week, all the health nuts in California can rest assured I’m not single-handedly waging war against cardiovascular health. All things in moderation, and is that a yes or a no?” She cocked her head and waited.
“That’s a hell yes. I’ll make the toast if you direct me to the bread.” Jeremiah took another sip of his coffee as he waited for her to point to the small pantry where the bread was. “Is this homemade?”
“Yep. Sourdough. Rumor has it the starter for that bread began when the original Mrs. Hollister came across in a covered wagon. Allison’s mom bakes every other day and sells it at the market. There is a serrated knife in the butcher block.”
“Allison?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. Allison Sanderson, a friend. You’ll meet her if you’re here more than a day.”
“How’s that?” Jeremiah sliced the bread with the precision of a surgeon.
A low, rumbling knock on the front door stopped her from cracking the first two eggs into the frying pan. She handed the unbroken eggs to her guest. “Here’s your breakfast. It sounds like I have a drop-by and the ones that show up first thing in the morning are the ones that have tried to mend themselves and failed. I’ll be back up when I finish.”
She slipped her feet into a pair of sneakers and opened the door to the inside stairwell. At the bottom, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Zeke stood on the sidewalk with his hands shoved into his pockets.
A smile hit his face. “Caught a ride back up with the ambulance crew. They needed to wait for a restock so it worked out. Did I miss breakfast?”
Well, okay. Zeke’s enthusiasm for eggs seemed a bit weird, she thought, but whatever. “Ah, no. Come on in. How is Declan?”
She headed back up the stairs.
“The biker doc saved him further complications. If he’d tried to pull that knife out, it would have done some damage. Strange that he just turned up like––”
“Like this?” Jeremiah stood at the top of the stairs, barefoot, holding two eggs in one hand and the frying pan in the other.
Eden laughed and stepped past him, grabbing the frying pan as she moved by. “Yep, just like that. Why aren’t you frying those eggs?”
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help.” She sat the pan back on the range and turned around to find the two men staring at each other. “Zeke, this is Jeremiah, Jeremiah, this is Zeke.”
They both turned to her with confused looks on their faces. “Well, you were staring at each other, I figured you’d forgotten you’d already met.” She extended her hand for the eggs. “Add some more toast, Jeremiah. Zeke, you set the table.” She took the eggs and turned back to the effort of making breakfast.
“Do you want me to do that while you get dressed?” Zeke’s question spun her around.
Jeremiah laughed. “No, I can manage both. How’s the bar owner?”
“He’ll live. Thanks to you,” she heard Zeke speak as the plates rattled. “Where do you work and live?”
“I’m on hiatus out here to visit family. I’ll be staying a while.” Jeremiah answered the question but avoided answering anything Zeke had actually asked.
“Hiatus? Do doctors get rich in… where was it you were from again?” Zeke placed the plates beside her, and she gave him a side-eye. He shrugged and reached for the silverware drawer.
“Rich? No, I was rich before I started my practice. Old money, you know, but we don’t do what we do to get rich, do we?” Jeremiah chuckled. “I’m a psychiatrist and work at a federal penitentiary in California.”
Eden glanced at Jeremiah, pausing her routine of spooning the hot bacon grease over the egg yolks to cook the surrounding whites without having to flip the eggs.
Zeke snorted. “So, you work with the criminally insane. Why bother, they’re lost causes aren’t they?”
Jeremiah straightened and rolled his shoulders. Eden saw her new friend tense, but Zeke wasn’t watching; he was digging in the fridge for something.
“I work with incarcerated men. Those who are there for a short time and those that are there for the rest of their lives. And by the way, I haven’t checked recently, but when I went through my fellowship, ‘criminally insane’ wasn’t an entry in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. No matter the location, everyone—and I mean everyone—deserves the right to talk to someone, to find professional help when the darkness becomes too much to bear. Just because they are behind bars doesn’t make them less of a person.” Jeremiah sat the plate of toasted and buttered bread on the table. “I’m no longer hungry. I’ll gather my stuff and see myself out.”
“Zeke.” Eden’s growled warning or the fact that Zeke realized he was being an ass had the guy moving. She took the pan off the burner and watched Jeremiah move into the living room.
“Dude, man… I’m sorry. It has to be the lack of sleep. I didn’t mean to put down what you do.” Zeke stopped on the far side of the kitchen table and watched as Jeremiah grabbed his boots.
Jeremiah threw a glance his direction. “Yeah, you did. You were preening in front of the woman you have your sights on. I get it, man.” He sat down on the chair and pulled on his socks and boots.
Zeke opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “Damn.” He scrubbed his face and glanced at her. “I’m sorry.”
Zeke said the words to her and not to Jeremiah. She frowned at him and shook her head. “Jeremiah, I know you are staying for a couple days. Please, leave your things here. When you and Gen meet up you can stop by and pick them up.”
Jeremiah slung his leather jacket over his shoulder and smiled at her. It was the type of smile that would melt any woman’s heart and warm her blood. “Thank you for your hospitality, Eden, but everything I need is in my saddlebags. I’ll find the deputy and give him my statement while I’m waiting for Gen to get home.” He headed to the back stairwell. “Johnson, it’s been real.” The door shut quietly after him.
Eden spun on her heel and slammed her hands onto her hips. Zeke blinked at her sudden turn and put his hands in the air in supplication, but the action didn’t stop her. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “Ezekiel Johnson, what on earth was that?”
Zeke linked his hands behind his neck and stared at her. “He was right. I was showboating to put him down and impress you. He knows Gen?”
“She’s his sister, and newsflash, Zeke, that shit doesn’t work, and why in the heck would you want to do that?”
“Are you kidding?” Zeke’s jaw slackened.
“Do you see laughter in this expression?” she countered, pointing at her face.
“Eden, I don’t know how much plainer I need to make it. I want a relationship with you, and you’ve kept me at arm’s length. What was I supposed to do, watch him come in here and sweep you off your feet?”
She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, trying to compose the things she wanted to say, but the swirling miasma of ‘oh shit’ that was floating around in her gray matter would not be settled, not with a pause. She drew a deep breath. “First, Zeke, I like you––as a friend.”
Zeke groaned and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he looked at her. “You friend-zoned me? Because of him?”
Eden frowned and shook her head. “Because of Jeremiah? No. Absolutely not. Because I don’t feel anything more for you than a friend? Yes.”
Zeke stepped forward. “Give me a chance, Eden. I know I could be the man you want me to be.”
She smiled; her anger floated away with his words. “Don’t you see? Changing for me should tell you I’m not the one for you.”
“Nothing, huh?” He took her hand in his and stared down at it.
“Friendship isn’t nothing, Zeke, it is precious.” She squeezed his hand and then slipped from his grasp. “Do you want eggs? They’re tough as rubber by now.” She tried to right the environment in the room by moving the conversation back to the mundane.
“You know, I’m not hungry either. I’m going to go grab my truck and head down to my office. Call if you need me for anything.”
“I will.” She watched as he hesitated at the front steps. He dipped his head and opened the door, closing it behind him.
Eden spun and grabbed the sink, staring out the window. She’d tried to let him down gently; the conversation was overdue, but still, saying the words and hurting a friend was never easy. How in the world had her morning gone from bliss to this? She turned to look at the eggs and groaned. No amount of bacon fat was going to make what just happened between her and Zeke better. Hopefully, time and perspective would mend the distance she’d just put between them. Until then, she’d do what she’d done for the last four years: heal and move on.
