Gen’s long earrings swung as she walked closer. Her eyes gleamed with affection.
He closed the distance between them, his big hands tunneling into her hair as he kissed her. Their chemistry flashed. His body shielded hers as he communicated the thing he’d never spoken to her in words—the depth of his devotion.
When she pulled back, she slid one palm down to cover his heart. He could feel it drumming beneath her touch.
They’d just completed the last of their Fall Fun Days. During today’s event, they’d had very little time to talk and no time alone.
“I stopped by to let you know I’m taking off,” she said. “They released Sebastian from the hospital today, so Ben and I are taking dinner to his house.”
“I hope he’s feeling better.”
“He’ll be fine.” She studied him for a long moment. “You look concerned.”
That’s because he was concerned. It was idiotic to put so much stock in her.
“You’re concerned about us,” she correctly guessed. “What we have is a very good thing, Sam.”
“I know.”
“What is it about us that’s worrying you?”
His jaw hardened.
“You’ve always wanted me to be open with you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been trying. Can you try to be open with me?”
It was only fair. He’d demanded honesty from her, but he hadn’t been honest about his feelings for her in return. It was ... brutally difficult for him to put himself out there.
“What is it about us that’s worrying you?” she repeated.
“I’m worried that this has become too important to lose.”
“Ah. Well.” A few seconds slid by. “I agree. Thishasbecome too important to lose.”
He considered her for a long moment, then drew her to him in a hug, closing her against his frame.
You said you thought she might have been an angel,” Ben said an hour later. “Maybe she was.”
He was referring to the mystery woman who’d stayed with Sebastian after his accident. “No,” Sebastian answered. “I said she looked like an angel. She was real.”
Sebastian sat in a chair, his head throbbing, watching Ben and Genevieve move around his kitchen island, preparing dinner. It was probably time for more meds.
He’d spent yesterday and most of today at the hospital, lyingin bed, thinking of the mystery woman. Having his head scanned, he’d thought of her. Trying to fall asleep, he’d thought of her. Talking to his nurses, he’d thought of her. Never had he had such a strong reaction to someone he’d just met.
“‘Ba-aa-aa-by, you’re my angel,’” Ben sang, quoting the lyrics from the Aerosmith song.
“Usually,” Genevieve said, “real, non-angel men ask the real, non-angel women they’re interested in what their name is.”
“Thanks for that enlightening piece of information. If I hadn’t just crashed my car, I’m confident that it would have occurred to me to ask her name. Would you mind turning off this light?” The fixture over the table was shooting pain into his skull.
Ben immediately flipped the switch. After turning on the lights mounted on the underside of the cabinets, he switched off the kitchen’s recessed lighting, too. “That better?”
“Much.”
“How long do your doctors think it will be before your concussion resolves?” Genevieve asked.
