Read A Broken Christmas for Free Online

her flannel pajama pants to stop from tracing that thin white line. “Yeah, I would. I’d tell you to come to bed. But you don’t seem to be interested in sleeping.”
    He expelled a harsh breath. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”
    Reaching between them, she rested her hand on his. His gaze skittered down to where she touched him. “Go take your shower,” she encouraged in a low voice. “I’ll get this.”
    “I can’t. I don’t have a bench.”
    Bench… Aimee frowned, his meaning giving her pause. It came to her quickly, however, and she put his bad leg together with shower, realizing her error. He couldn’t handle the shower. He’d need to sit.
    She squeezed his hand. “I’m a nurse, Kyle, and I’m certainly no stranger. Why won’t you let me help you?”
    Kyle drew his hand back with a muffled hiss. “I don’t want help, Aimee.”
    His pride rang loud and clear through the gruff response, and this time, Aimee refused to back down. She stood up, grabbed a towel from the closet. “Did you give your doctors such a hard time?” Stepping around him, she opened the bathroom door and flipped on the light. “I’m starting a bath. You can use the hot water, or you can let it sit overnight. I don’t care. But if you want to get in that tub, I’ll be waiting.”
    Without further comment, she went inside and flipped on the taps, taking care to nudge the hot just this side of uncomfortable, the way Kyle preferred. While it ran, she set the towel on the towel heater and sat on the toilet seat, prepared to wait him out.
    When the tub was full, she turned off the faucet. Her foot tapped an antsy rhythm on the heated tile floor while her fingers worked the washcloth into a tight twist. Seconds ticked by. Turned into silent minutes where she strained to hear a noise from beyond the partly open door. As far as she could tell, Kyle hadn’t moved from where she’d left him.
    Floorboards creaked. Her heartbeat spiked as the door squeaked slowly open. Kyle stood on the other side, looking awkward and uncertain. In six years of marriage, and a full year before that, she’d never seen him so self-conscious.
    Hesitantly, he stepped inside and nudged the door shut with the back of his heel. He rested his cane against the sink, turned to stare at the steamy water. Then with a soul-deep sigh of resignation, he pulled his bulky sweatshirt over his head.
    The sight of Kyle’s broad shoulders, defined pecs, and sun-bronzed skin sent Aimee’s pulse into overdrive. She struggled for the ability to breathe. Countless times she had seen him naked, and every time he undressed, he cast a spell over her. Hard tight body, strong muscles, trim waist—Kyle Garland defined perfection.
    He turned sideways, and the light caught the scar on his left shoulder where he’d been shot seven years ago. Aimee couldn’t contain a wistful smile. They’d met that way. Head held high, he’d walked into the MASH unit in Iraq, too proud to tell anyone he was in pain. He’d dug the bullet out on his own, attempted field stitches as well. But infection had set in, and she’d been tasked with reopening the gash and cleaning it out. For the next several months, Kyle Garland showed up regularly when combat wounded overloaded their resources. Those chance encounters—she always suspected they were more strategic than luck—led to six months of forbidden passion whenever they could get their hands on one another, and her eventual retirement so they didn’t have to worry about getting caught.
    Her gaze dipped to his waist, where he fumbled with the button on his jeans. Aimee rose from her perch and pushed his hands away.
    “Aimee, I can—”
    “I know you can.” She popped the button with a twist of her wrist. “But I want to.”
    Kyle sucked in a sharp breath. He stood absolutely still, his breath barely stirring her hair as she lowered the zipper and tucked her fingers into his waistband.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Holy