Luke looked sharply at her. “Don’t do that. You’re one of the smartest and most capable people I know.”
Her lips formed a semblance of a smile, but he knew she was doing it to placate him. He wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass. She’d always been the one people turned to for advice and help. When had all that changed?
When you let her leave, asshole. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head. He couldn’t tell if it was to get closer to his touch or farther from it.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
Guess that answered that question. “Rowan—”
Her eyes popped open. “I can pretend as long as you’re not touching me or looking at me like that.” She looked back at his hands and covered the last sore with an adhesive bandage. “I think I’m going to go ahead and go to sleep so we can get an early start in the morning. I don’t know how much fuel is left in the generator—can you please turn it off before you go to bed?”
She busied herself with cleaning up the papers and first-aid supplies without looking at him, then returned to the bag to the kitchen.
Luke opened his mouth, then slumped back in his chair when she closed the bedroom door. Shit.
