She disappeared, then bumped her way through the door, coffee carrier in one hand, cookie bag in the other, a backpack, purse, and overnight bag all draped over her shoulders.
He should’ve gotten up to help her.
Those angel wing eyebrows scrunched together over her cute nose. “Are you okay?”
“Long as I don’t move.”
He wasn’t for certain, but she might’ve gone a shade pale. The coffee wobbled in her hands.
He might’ve let out a pathetic, unmanly whimper. But if it was pathetic, only Radish thought so, and that was only because she didn’t understand he probably saved a guy’s lifetoday. Took one for the team.
Anna Grace kneeled by his side. “Where does it hurt?”
His stomach growled.
They both looked at it. “Yeah, there for one,” he said, and he sounded danged philosophical, if he did say so himself.
He’d never seen her doe eyes so big, though he didn’t mind the way they kept roaming up and down his body. She checked him out, smoothed her hands over his skin, poked him here and there. “Have a cookie. Where else does it hurt? Did you two fight? Please tell me you didn’t fight. I didn’t mean for you to fight. Can you walk? I’m so sorry.” She fell silent, her mouth a perfect little O. But then—“Oh, no. What does Brad look like? You were going to say it, weren’t you?Should’ve seen the other guy. Good Lord.Whydo men always solve everything with their fists?”
“Anna Grace,” he said around a mouthful of oatmeal raisin cookie.
She stopped her inspection of his legs, which would’ve been enjoyable if she’d lingered more near the top and center instead of poking at his knees, which kinda tickled. Her head cocked and her eyes narrowed.
Yeah, she knew what he was talking about. “That’s my girl.”
If her eyes got any narrower, she’d be glaring at him through her eyelids. “How much pain medication are you on?”
“None.” He drew a hand through her hair—always so soft and silky—then brushed his thumb over her ear. Her pupils dilated. He caught a scent of intrigued woman.
Hisintrigued woman.
“Might could use a little vitamin I if you’re gonna get ideas though,” he said.
And wouldn’t you know she popped a little bottle of ibuprofen out of her purse. “Regular or flight-doc strength?”
God bless that idiot ex-husband of hers for teaching her the ins and outs of the Air Force medical system. “Flight doc.”
She shook four pills into his hand and then gave him hiscoffee. Mocha latte, double on the mocha.
She knew his favorite.
“I bribed the barista,” she said. “And I’ll poke harder if you don’t tell me what happened this afternoon.”
She looked like she would, too.
“We sorted it out like men,” he said, not all that wisely, since he couldn’t move to get out of the way of her jab to his shoulder.
Wasn’t quick enough to catch her hand either.
Maybe he should’ve thought about seeing a doctor himself. “Don’t suppose you’re up for baking biscuits tonight?”
“Are they going to be okay?” Anna asked, and he knew she wasn’t asking about biscuits.
Not any biscuits he wanted to know about, anyway.
He lifted his arm and beckoned her closer. Once he had his nose buried in her hair, felt her hand on his chest, he told her as much as he could without breaking the unspoken man code.
And because she was Anna, she didn’t press it.
