Into the Badlands. Caron Todd

struggled to her feet and made her way to the kitchen, pausing by the aquarium to feed the fish. Their dinner had never come so late. She watched the surface feeders leaping at the flakes and wondered where she would find the energy to walk the rest of the way to the bathroom.

      “Alex?”

      He had started rummaging in the fridge. He straightened, a bag of oranges in hand. Without a word, he picked her up, crutch and all, and headed to the bathroom. He set her down carefully, then leaned over to put in the plug and turn on the taps. An assortment of bottles crowded a shelf over the tub. “Do you want bubbles?”

      She nodded. Without the use of her hands, bubble bath was as close as she’d get to soap. He chose the bottle closest to him and poured a generous amount of liquid into the water gushing from the faucet. Soft bubbles started to form, and a lavender scent filled the room.

      He gestured toward the window, almost level with the side of the tub. “That’s unusual. Don’t you feel like you’re onstage when you bathe?”

      “It’s the back of the house. No one ever goes by. I can close the blind if I want more privacy.”

      He stared outside. “You can see hoodoos from here.”

      “And stars.”

      When the tub was three-quarters full, with bubbles reaching to the rim, Alex turned off the taps. “I guess you can…look after the rest of the procedure?”

      Susannah blushed. “I’ll be fine.”

      As soon as the door closed, she struggled out of the shoulder sling, the tensor bandage and her sand-encrusted clothes. Balancing on one foot, and holding her left arm across her chest, she sank thankfully into the soothing water. Dust and dirt from the quarry and the sinkhole had settled into her skin, glued to her by the sunscreen she had applied so liberally. She could only hope the grime would dissolve on its own.

      She gazed tiredly at the view framed by the window. The whitish wash of the Milky Way, made pale by the moon, curved through the sky. Absentmindedly, she found the Big Dipper and used it to trace an imaginary line toward the huge, far-distant star, Deneb, and the two other stars of the Summer Triangle, Vega and Altair. She tried to visualize the different constellations to which the three stars belonged: Cygnus the swan, Lyra the harp and Delphinus the dolphin, but, as usual, the fanciful shapes eluded her imagination.

      Blake hadn’t just taken the job she wanted—he had rescued her. She didn’t know which was worse. He didn’t stay in his own space like most people, at his own desk and his own quarry, quiet and focused. When he was on the scene, he was everywhere. And there was a complication. He was kind.

      WHY HAD HE THOUGHT he was the obvious person to help a strange woman get ready for bed? He hadn’t thought about it, that was the problem. He’d just swooped in on his jungle vine. That was Heather’s phrase, from the early days, when she’d still liked his tendency to do that.

      At least he knew why Dr. Robb hadn’t made it to his meeting, or prepared a project report. In a way, her obvious resentment was refreshing. Some people would have hidden their anger behind cold eyes and a tight smile, and waited for a good chance to trip him.

      The confusing thing was, when they’d talked on the phone last week, Bruce Simpson had told him Susannah was reliable, the person Alex could count on most for any help he needed. How could he count on someone who was so mad she couldn’t stand to be anywhere near him?

      He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a startled splash. “Dr. Robb? I’ve pulled out the sofa bed. Can you tell me where to find sheets?”

      “In the cupboard upstairs.” Her voice sounded strained. “Fourth shelf.”

      He found the cupboard easily, tucked between the sleeping area and a computer nook. His hand hovered over a plain white sheet set, then moved to a pair with pink rosebuds. His mother liked flowery things. Maybe they’d cheer up Dr. Robb.

      Now for a blanket—the sinkhole had chilled her, and the nights could get surprisingly cool. There were two deep drawers under the shelves. One was full of scarves, mitts and hats; the other held blankets. He felt his way through the pile and chose one that was relatively lightweight. As he pushed the drawer shut, something not quite covered by the blankets caught his eye. He crouched to look closer.

      Reaching into the drawer, he picked up a stonelike object. It was a coiled ammonite, about twelve inches in diameter, a common fossil whose presence in a rock sample could help date it. Other fossils sat at the bottom of the drawer: a trilobite, a cluster of clam shells imprinted in limestone, a fern leaf in a flat slab of coal, another piece of limestone bearing a rough pattern that looked like fish scales.

      An odd collection for a Cretaceous herbivore specialist, and an odd place to keep it. One by one, Alex lifted the pieces to get a better look. They were real, not copies. Not rare, not particularly valuable. He pushed the drawer shut and stood frowning at it. Most paleontologists kept a few fossils around. They probably weren’t important.

      Grabbing a couple of pillows from the bed, he returned to the living room. He could hear the bathtub water draining, so he made the sofa bed quickly, leaving the top sheet and blanket untucked so they wouldn’t be tight against her injured ankle. He was fluffing the pillows when Susannah hobbled into the living room.

      The sight of a blanket that had shared space with hidden fossils didn’t seem to worry her. She looked vulnerable—exhausted, struggling to keep her composure, her hair still full of sand and a soft, blue nightgown draping her body. She brought a faint scent of bubble bath into the room with her. Alex felt an unexpected surge of desire, complicated by an even less expected tug of tenderness. Surprised at himself, he shut the feeling down.

      Avoiding his eyes, she eased herself onto the bed and leaned back against the raised pillows. She’d slipped the sling back on, but she hadn’t been able to manage the bandage around her ankle. Alex found it in a pile of sandy clothes on the bathroom counter. He shook most of the sand into the sink, then returned to the living room.

      “That’s really not necessary,” she said, as he approached the bed. “I’ll have to shower in the morning to get the sand out of my hair, and I’ll just have to take it off again.”

      She seemed flustered, and she was blushing again. There was something familiar about her, but Alex was sure they hadn’t met before. “Your ankle will swell more overnight without support. If that happens, you’ll have to wait even longer before you can get back to the quarry.”

      “I suppose you’re right.”

      “It won’t hurt to put it on, you know. It’ll feel better.” He lifted the covers away from her ankle and began rolling the bandage around her foot. When his hand brushed her toes, she shivered.

      “Cold? I’m almost done.” He kept his eyes on her ankle, away from the curve of her leg above her knee, and the flimsy nightgown that didn’t cover her all that well. Halfway up her calf, he fastened the end of the bandage with two thin metal clips, then pulled the covers back in place. “Comfortable?”

      “Yes. Thanks.” She lifted a bandaged hand to cover a yawn.

      “Think you can stay awake to eat your dinner, such as it is?”

      “I’m starving.”

      “It’ll just be a minute.”

      A peeled and sectioned orange, and a raisin scone cut in half and spread with butter and strawberry jam already waited on a tray in the kitchen. Alex poured simmering soup into a mug and carried the tray to the living room.

      “I strained the noodles out of the soup, so you could drink it. A spoon seemed a bit much for you right now.”

      “Thank you.” Holding the mug awkwardly, she sipped the warm broth. “You’ve been very nice, Dr. Blake.” She sounded grateful, but surprised, as if the big bad wolf had declined to gobble her up on the way to her grandmother’s.

      “I’m glad to help.” Alex relaxed in an armchair near the sofa