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hell was his sister doing?
    “What’s going on here, Ivy? Are you up to some kind of trick? Because I gotta tell you, I’m not up to dealing with it right now.”
    “No, no, no,” she said, hastily. “No tricks.”
    Still, the feeling of unease wouldn’t go away.
    “Does she have references?” he demanded. He wasn’t going to have some dip shit idiot female in his house. Or worse yet, a candidate for guard at a women’s prison.
    Ivy giggled. “Yes. Me. And that should be good enough for you.”
    “All right.” He sighed. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go as well as his sister thought, but he’d give it a shot. What other choices did he have that wouldn’t involve a test of his sanity?
    “She’s not helping me shower.” He knew he sounded like a petulant kid, but he didn’t want some damn woman washing his junk, not when it wasn’t foreplay. He punched the covers in exasperation. “I foresee all kinds of problems here, my sweet sister.”
    “Like what?” she asked, and looked at her notes again. “I already took care of that. Home Health Care is sending someone once a day to help you shower—a man—and please don’t bite his head off.”
    “Goddamn it.” None of this sat well with him. Every single thing just underscored the extent of his situation and the possibility of the worst possible outcome.
    “I know you can manage to get to the bathroom,” she went on, “because I’ve seen you do it here since they removed the traction. It may not be beautiful but it works.”
    “Maybe I will fall and break my damn neck.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness and resentment out of his voice. This just wasn’t fair. “At least I’d be out of my misery.”
    “I’m not even going to try and reason with you when you’re like this,” she told him. “No one understands more than I do, but I have to believe things will be okay.”
    “Yeah.” He wanted to scream and throw things. “At least one of us does. How will I get home on Sunday, and when will Miss Perfect show up.”
    Ivy scrolled through her notes on her phone before typing rapidly. “I’ll be here Sunday morning to take you home.” She looked up at him. “We’ll use a wheelchair to get you into the house, and then you’ll have it if you need it.”
    “I’m not riding in a fucking wheelchair.” He could feel the irritation rising in his gorge, choking him.
    “You’ll do what I say if you want them to let you out of this place. And trust me, you’ll be damn grateful for it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll spend the night and get you set. I’ll have Anne arrive Monday morning before you get up and before I have to leave.”
    She rose from the chair and stood so close to the bed her face was inches from his. “Listen. I know this has turned your life upside down. We all know it. The team is paying for the best of everything to help you heal. I’m getting someone in the house for you. But no one can fix your head except you.” She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. “Get it?”
    Oh, he got it. He just didn’t like it. “I hear you.”
    “Good. Now.” She reached for the small box she’d brought with her. “How about one of those spiced muffins you like?”
    He hated to tell her but the best muffins in the world weren’t going to fix what was wrong with him. He just had a sick feeling his life was about to fall apart even more than it had.
    * * * *
    Erin stared at her friend as if she hadn’t heard right.
    “You want me to babysit some guy? Is that what you’re asking me? Did I hear right?”
    Ivy shook her head. “No. Not babysit. Use your skills to help someone who is incapacitated and needs assistance for the moment.”
    Erin scrubbed her face, wiping away fatigue as if that had made her hear wrong. After all, she had hardly arrived back in her apartment before Ivy showed up. Her suitcases weren’t even unpacked yet. Two weeks on a luxury yacht playing personal trainer to a