Private nurses weren't cheap, but the best were always worth it in the long run.
And Amanda was going to be handsomely rewarded for her efforts.
There wasn't an amount of money that could be put on getting me out of my mother's house, though. I'd grown tired and exasperated with staring at that damn garden outback. It reminded me of my father. It reminded me of the walks we always used to take in the back garden. The talks we had about me taking over the company and the bitching I always did about college.
I missed that man.
A knock came at the door and one of the movers went to answer it. He swung the door open and there she stood, with her long curly hair and her yellow-speckled brown eyes. She was hauling a box in her hands and could hardly see over the damn thing, so I pointed at one of the movers and beckoned for him to take the box.
"Don't just stand there. Help the poor woman," I said.
"Thanks," Amanda said breathlessly.
She turned to leave, but one of the movers stopped her. She wasn't going to be lifting a finger getting her stuff out of her car. Or a moving van. Or whatever the hell she'd hauled her stuff in. They talked for a little bit before the man whistled, then disappeared out into the hallway.
"Do they need any help?" Amanda asked.
"No," I said.
"Maybe I should go help them."
"Don't."
She looked over at me and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. She was chewing on it nervously. She obviously felt out of place. Her eyes were darting around the place I'd called home for a few years now, and I could tell she was impressed.
She was trying not to show it, but she was taken by it.
"The layout's simple," I said. "This is the living room, over there's the kitchen. Down that hallway is my room as well as yours. I'm the first door on the right, you're the second. The laundry room is the door on the left-hand side of the hallway and if you keep going down the hallway, it dead ends into a library with an electric fireplace."
"What's upstairs?" she asked.
Her eyes were no longer darting around, but now situated on my gaze.
"More rooms. Another small sitting room. Places I won't visit for a while until I'm out of this contraption."
I tapped the arms of my wheelchair and watched her slowly nod her head.
"The bathroom?" she asked.
"There's a bathroom attached to every room," I said. "Down the hall, second door on the right. Go into the room and the bathroom door is off in a corner somewhere."
"Okay."
But she didn't move from her place.
"Aren't you going to use it?"
"Just wanted to know where it was," Amanda said.
"Ah."
"So, who does-?"
"Where do you want these boxes?" the mover asked.
Four men barged in with massive cardboard boxes in their hands.
"In her room, of course," I said flatly.
"Which room was that again?"
"Down the hall, second door on the right," Amanda said.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"No problem," she said with a grin.
It lit up her eyes before she cleared her throat and let it fall from her cheeks. She was obviously uncomfortable and very out of place. I was starting to regret hiring her. After all, I was her first private client. Which meant none of her theories or practices were tested. And I knew tiptoeing around an uncomfortable person for the next couple of months wasn't going to help with my recuperation at all.
But the way she'd effortle
ssly picked me up off the floor.
It had been shocking, to say the least.
"Once the movers are done you can begin unpacking. For now, however, I'd stay out of their way."
"That's fine," Amanda said. "Understandable."
I sighed and turned myself towards the kitchen, then began wheeling myself through the archway.
"Would you like me to make-?"
"No," I said curtly. "I can make my own food."
"But sometimes, specific diets help promote the body's internal healing."
I paused my movements and slowly wheeled myself around so I was facing her.
"Like…?"
"Fresh fruits and vegetables. Certain fatty meats, like fish. Salmon. Sardines. Nuts."
"Didn't know nuts were a meat."
A small giggle fell from Amanda's lips and I found a heat pooling in my gut. The movers were headed back out the door to go get another handful of her things and I could tell the joke eased her into the atmosphere. But I hoped she didn't get the wrong picture. I wasn't here to make friends. I wasn't here to work on my interpersonal skills. I hired her to help me get my ass back to work so I could fix the shit still plaguing my company and this damn abandoned project.
"I was going to offer to make you something, or at least a grocery shop to stock foods that would help you with your recuperation. Especially given your upcoming surgery."
I nodded and wheeled my chair around before I started into the kitchen. I wasn't interested in her cooking skills. Nor was I interested in her stocking my refrigerator with food. All I needed was her supposed medical expertise.
And if she didn't have them, she'd be fired.
Simple as that.
"Ma'am?" one of the movers asked.
"Yes? Sorry. What is it?"
"We don't see any more boxes in your car."
"Yeah, I only packed eight or nine of them," she said. "Thank you guys so much for your help. Could I tip you or something?"
"I've got it," I said.
"Yes. Mr. Lowell takes care of all that," the mover said.
"Oh. Okay. Then um… well, thank you again," she said.
I wheeled over to the fridge and ripped the door open. I could hear Amanda's small footsteps padding along the cherry mahogany floors of my home. I opened the bottle of water and grabbed an apple, then set everything in my lap and backed away.
The fridge just with a thump as Amanda rounded the corner.
"Your home is lovely," she said. "Really, it's beautiful."
"Help yourself," I said.
I wheeled past her, ready to get to the tightened confines of my room.
"Do you have a specific physical therapy schedule outlined?"
"Isn't that your job?" I asked.
I raced myself down the hallway, trying to get out of the line of her conversation. I wasn't interested in her or her opinions or her thought processes. I wasn't interested in being friends or lovers or wooing her until she let me fuck her into the mattress.
Hell, I couldn't even do that kind of shit with the condition my body was in.