The Heart of Grace. Linda Goodnight

back in Tulsa and he was still so mad he could spit. How had Larissa managed this? How had she manipulated him into living under the same roof with her again?

      To make the situation even more difficult, she had moved him into the downstairs guest room and then surrounded him with luxury. She’d filled it with things he enjoyed, including a plasma TV mounted on the wall and a remote to open and close the drapes. A remote no less, so he could look out onto the backyard at will. She’d put enormous effort into making the room comfortable.

      That was the problem. She was killing him with kindness and making him love her more, instead of less. He needed to get out of here and do it fast, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

      No matter how much he growled and fussed and acted like a general creep, Larissa kept smiling and bringing him goodies. But he was a detail man. He could see the hurt she tried to hide, and he hated himself for putting it there. But he had to. Someday she’d thank him for it. Someday, when he could get out of her life for good.

      Despising himself, he pressed the window remote and opened the drapes to stare broodingly at the yard.

      Though Tulsa moved toward winter’s end, the weather here was unpredictable. One day would be springlike, the next day snow or ice. Today was sunny, and the television claimed that temperatures were decent enough to be outside.

      He’d spent too many years outdoors to appreciate much time inside a building. No matter how much he hurt, he was as restless as a windshield wiper.

      Larissa’s backyard, like her house, was pretty, even in winter. Birds pecked at feeders and flitted among the glossy green holly bushes. Wrought iron benches beckoned him to come out and play around the koi pond.

      If only he had his camera equipment he could at least get some shots.

      He rang the bell again, more insistent this time. Where was she? The more he annoyed her, the sooner she’d give up and send him to rehab. And he definitely was cranky enough to annoy anyone, even himself.

      He’d slept away the first few days back, not caring much about anything. If his information was correct, he’d slept most of the last three weeks. But now he was awake and in a bad mood.

      “Larissa!” he yelled and the effort set his ribs to aching.

      As if she’d been standing outside the door waiting for him to hurt himself, his wife materialized. Dressed in trendy jeans and a sweater with too-long sleeves that was somehow exactly right on her, she took his breath away. Or she would have if he hadn’t already lost it to the rib pain. Coco, the funny little Yorkie he’d bought two years ago to keep her company, trotted in behind.

      “Do you need something?” She hovered in the doorway, anxious to help.

      She’d been like this since his arrival and he was pretty tired of it. Sweet and kind and accommodating. Why couldn’t she just hate him and get it over with?

      “I’m bored.” Coco trotted over and sniffed his toes. He wiggled away the tickle, frowning. “Go away, mutt.”

      Larissa’s giggle washed over him as she came in and perched on a chair too close to his bedside. Her perfume came with her and tantalized him. All day long, he had to smell that delicious, irritating perfume.

      “Okay. What would you like to talk about?” she asked.

      His frown deepened. She was way too chipper. “Your attitude.”

      Her lush lips quirked at the corners. “My attitude?”

      Okay, so he was the one in the foul mood. “Yeah, your attitude. Stop behaving like a servant. I don’t like it.”

      Expression mild, she refused to let his crankiness rattle her. “How would you like me to behave? You aren’t able to take care of yourself yet.”

      Like he needed that reminder. “Have the nurse stay longer. I don’t want you in here all the time.”

      The last shot was hateful, so he braced against her inevitable flinch of pain.

      It came, then quickly went as she shot back, “Dare I mention that you summoned me like some cranky king?”

      Oh, yeah. He had. Lacking a reasonable answer, he did the only thing he could. He glowered.

      Larissa got up to retrieve a pillow from against the wall. He’d thrown it earlier in a fit of frustration.

      The woman amazed him with her serenity. How could she be calm when he was such a jerk?

      “Leave it,” he barked. “It’s a throw pillow.”

      She picked it up, taking aim in his direction. Eyes narrowed, she said, “Don’t tempt me.”

      His mouth twitched. Mixed with Larissa’s grace and class was a good dose of spunk. Sooner or later, she’d get her fill of him.

      “If I’m such a pain, send me to rehab. Get me out of here.”

      “We’ve had this argument.” There was that annoying calm again. “You want to be here. You’re just too stubborn to admit I was right. The home health nurses are doing a great job, as is the physical therapist.”

      So was Larissa.

      “None of this changes the inevitable. I want out. You might as well cut me loose now and save us both the stress.”

      He hadn’t planned to blurt that out, but the subject was on his mind most of the time anyway. The longer he stayed here, soaking up her kindness, the more restless he became. He was terrified of falling back into the habit of thinking of this place as his home. It wasn’t. It was her house. Her town. Her everything. She deserved it. She belonged. He didn’t.

      Brocade pillow cradled like a protective shield between them, she refused to rise to the bait. “You need to get well. That’s the only thing that matters right now. The rest can wait.”

      “So, you’re saying, as soon as I’m well, you’ll agree to divorce.”

      “That’s not what I said.” Distress twisted her face. He’d finally upset her. As a result, he felt lower than pond scum.

      “Look, Larissa. I’m not trying to be the bad guy here. I’m just being honest.” Sort of. He honestly wanted to convince the woman he loved that he didn’t love her. How messed up was that? “I wasn’t cut out for the married life. You knew it when you first laid eyes on me.”

      “But I fell in love with you anyway.” She came to his bedside and laid a hand on his cheek. Her face softened and grew sad. “You once loved me, too. What happened?”

      All it took was one touch from her, and he shuddered like a pathetic puppy. He tried to shrink into the mattress, anything to escape her sweetness. “Give me a break.”

      “Someone in Iraq did that already.” She smiled and stepped back.

      Resisting the smile, he deepened his scowl. “Not funny.”

      “The doctors say depression is natural after trauma this severe. We can call in a counselor if you’d like.”

      No thanks to that one. He’d had his head shrunk plenty as a teenager, and the results had never been pretty. “I’m not depressed.”

      “That’s why you’re so cranky.”

      “I’m cranky because you won’t discuss our situation rationally.”

      She blinked once, then glanced out the window, teeth sawing back and forth on her bottom lip. When she brought her attention back to him, she looked resigned.

      “All right then. Let’s discuss this. I can’t even begin to understand what happened, Drew. The last time you were home, things were fine.”

      “No, they weren’t. Things have never been fine. I’m gone all the time. I won’t give you a family. Never.” He emphasized that part. “I don’t fit in your world. Your parents have fought us from the beginning. The pressure