Free Here to Stay (Silhouette Special Edition) by Kate Freiman

stuff. But I have to be there to make sure everyone is okay.”
    The door swung open again. “I hear you’re being cooperative as usual,” Simmons commented as he stepped inside. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Since you insist on going home to-night, I called Sam to pick you up. He won’t let you do anything stupid, no matter how hard you try.”
    “Thank you so much,” Sasha muttered, while Miles wondered who Sam was. “When is he coming?”
    Simmons glanced at his watch. “About an hour, maybe less.”
    “I’d rather take a taxi, Peter. You know I hate hanging around hospitals.”
    Miles thought fast. Now that he’d gotten this reprieve from his own stupidity, he intended to maintain contact with Sasha as long as possible. “I’ll take her back to my room and keep her out of trouble until this Sam comes.”
    “Good idea,” Simmons agreed.
    Sasha sighed noisily. “Hey, guys, I’m not a piece of furniture.”
    “Humor me,” Miles told her. “I don’t need my memory to figure out I like being in control of a situation.”
    Her dark eyes sparkled, even though the left one was almost swollen shut. “I could have told you that,” she said.
    “Okay,” Simmons said, a speculative look on his narrow face. “That’s settled. You’re responsible, Kent. See that she behaves until Sam can take over.” With a quick wave, he walked out and left them alone again.
    Sasha gave a tiny sputter of a laugh. Miles squeezed her hand gently. “Who’s Sam?”
    “My other foster brother.” Her voice came out more slowly, as if her face was hurting more than before. “He’s a master cabinetmaker and single dad. His place is on the next concession road north of mine, so he exercises his big-brother privileges even more than Peter.”
    A nurse bustled in and began fussing over Sasha’s face. She grimaced and a tiny moan escaped her lips, and he squeezed her hand to tell her that he was with her. When she squeezed his hand back, as if seeking strength from his, he felt something in his gut he couldn’t quite identify. Something oddly satisfying, yet somehow unsettling. Maybe it was the tug of being needed, even a little, by this spe-cial woman.
    The antiseptic cleanser stung and the light pressure of the wet cotton pads on her bruised face hurt more than she expected. Sasha felt like a baby for moaning, but she’d gotten used to the numbness, and the pain caught her by surprise. That was the way with pain. Even when you anticipated getting hurt, the actual sensation was always a shock. She closed her eyes and tried to brace herself.
    When Miles squeezed her hand, offering her comfort, it took her a moment to realize he really was there, really was willing to lessen her pain with his strength. She squeezed back, weakly, just trying to let him know she appreciated not being on her own this once. When the nurse was finished, she repeated the doctor’s warning that a night in hospital would be prudent. Sasha simply thanked her, needing to save what little energy she had left for getting home and doing chores. She sat on the edge of the examining table, waiting to gather enough of her strength to step down.
    “Take it slow,” Miles said in his low, gravelly voice. It was a voice that invited confidence, intimacy, desire. He looked down at her, looming tall despite his own injuries. She tried, unsuccessfully, to shake the confusion of feeling desire at the same time as feeling as if she had kissed a moving vehicle. She needed a distraction.
    “I have to call my friends who brought me in—”
    “You mean they just dumped you here and split?”
    His swift anger on her behalf puzzled her. “No, of course not. They brought me here after we trailered Desperado home and unloaded him. But Donna is a single mother and Marie works evenings, teaching riding, so they couldn’t stay. I wanted to take a taxi here myself, but—”
    “You took the damn horse home first.” He shook his head, then