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“Couple of cracked ribs and a flesh wound on my arm. Nothing I can’t cope with.”
Her stomach sank. “Flesh wound?”
“It’s nothing. A scratch. How do you feel? You were pretty out of it for a while. They’ve been pumping you full of antibiotics and fluids.”
Belinda did a mental inventory of her body. “I don’t feel too bad. Tired. Weak. My knee is still sore. But that’s about it.”
“You’re on painkillers. You dislocated your knee. They had to operate to fix it. You’ll be fine, although it might take a while.” The words he didn’t say hung heavily between them—things could have been a whole lot worse for both of them.
She swallowed, her mouth dry. “What happened? I remember up until climbing out of that hole. I had a gun. Did I…?” She couldn’t say the words. Part of her, a bigger part than she’d like to admit, didn’t want to know if she’d killed a man.
“Did you save my life?” He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “Hell yeah. You know what that means? I owe you a life debt. You’re stuck with me until I repay it.”
A surge of hope shot through her, but… “That isn’t a real thing, John. It’s a plot device used in old westerns.”
“Nope, you’re wrong, baby. It’s a real thing. I can’t leave you until I’ve paid the debt.” He was solemn, but his eyes burned with sensual intent.
“How long do you think it will take to pay this debt?” Her voice trembled, betraying just how important his answer was to her. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to try for something special together outside of the jungle. She wanted a chance at making this thing between them work, at getting to know him when something or someone wasn’t trying to kill them. She wanted it so badly that her heart actually ached from it.
“I’m thinking that it’s gonna take a lifetime, Hollywood.”
Her hand moved then. It curled in his blue T-shirt, tangling in the material above his heart. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” She couldn’t bear it if he was teasing. It was far too important to her.
“I mean every single word. You asked me for a chance when we got out of the jungle, and I thought you were mad. The world would laugh at us, an MMA fighter with a Hollywood princess. They’d hound us every step of the way, making life hard for us. But I learned something important while we were out there.”
“What?” she whispered, barely holding on to her courage to ask.
“I learned that you aren’t a Hollywood princess—you’re Belinda. And you can cope with whatever the world throws at us.”
She sucked in a breath. “And you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known. You aren’t your past, or your profession, or where you were born. You’re just John.”
“Only to you, baby, only to you.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, what have I told you?” someone snapped from the doorway, and Belinda looked up to see her mother barrel in. There were tears in her eyes. “Get out of that bed right now, or I’ll take a shoe to your backside.”
“Crap, it’s your mom again,” John whispered. “You gotta save me, baby. I don’t know what to do with her.”
His face became a blank mask as he ignored her mother’s order. Instead, he scooted up until he was sitting against the headboard. Then he reached down and slid Belinda up to lean against his side. It was unclear to Belinda whether he wanted to keep her close because he’d missed her, or whether he was using her as a shield against her mum.
“That boy doesn’t listen to a word I say,” her mother complained as she hurried around to the opposite side of the bed to John. Only Libby Collins would call John a boy. Her mum pulled Belinda, ever so gently, out of John’s hold. “I was so worried,” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought we’d lost you.” And then she enfolded Belinda in that special hug only a mother knew how to give.
“I’m okay now.” Belinda fought the urge to weep like a child. “John saved me.”
“From what I hear, you saved him.”
Belinda smiled. “We saved each other, Mum.”
She breathed in her mother’s special fragrance, a strange blend of roses and Earl Grey tea. She would bet that her mum was staring John down. She didn’t interfere. If he was serious about sticking around, then he’d ha
ve to get used to her family. And, unfortunately, her family took a lot of getting used to.
“You’re awake!” Belinda looked over to see her grandmother, Patricia, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a chic red jumpsuit, with oversized wooden bangles and Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. Behind her was Patricia’s best friend, Alice, who was dressed like a bag lady.
The two of them rushed into the room and crowded around Belinda and her mother, wrapping them both in a massive hug.
“Family hug,” her grandmother shouted. “Don’t break the invalid.”
Another set of arms joined the rugby scrum, and Belinda looked up into her sister’s tear-filled eyes.
