He sat.
She moved fast, grabbing gloves, antiseptic, gauze.Her hair was wet as if she’d just come from the shower.“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Fell.”
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t in the mood.
“All right.I ran into Christian’s fist,” he said, voice flat.“A couple times.”
She paused.Not long.Just long enough to let him know she considered his words.Then, like usual, she didn’t judge or ask too many questions.Yet another thing he liked about her.Then she pressed gauze to his temple, maybe a little too hard.He welcomed the pain.
Something fell off the roof outside, no doubt a tree branch from the storm.She jolted, her head turning quickly, and then she returned to her job.Red climbed into her pretty face.
“You’re jumpy tonight,” he said, watching her.
“I’m not.”
He kept perfectly still.“You just flinched from a simple sound outside.”
She kept placing adhesive strips on the cut on his jaw like she hadn’t heard him.
“Did something happen tonight?”
“I’m fine.”
He narrowed his gaze, watching her move.She was wound tight.Not angry.Not tired.Something else.“You want help?”he asked, quieter this time.“You look like you need it.”
“I’m the doctor,” she said through clenched teeth.“You’re the one bleeding.”
He raised both hands, palms up.Bruised knuckles, fresh cuts, skin split at the base of the thumb.“I’m good for more than you think.Do you need my help?”
She sighed.“Seriously?What is it with you Osprey brothers taking over and wanting to help?If Christian helps Amka any longer, it’s going to be right into his bed.”
Ace coughed.“Huh?”
She rolled her spectacular blue eyes.With that blonde hair, she looked more like a sexy cheerleader than an accomplished doctor.Her gaze hit his hands.“Don’t worry about it right now.Your knuckles are bruised.Do you want ice?”
“No.”
She cleaned a different gash without another word.
He watched her.Every step.Every breath.She was listening for something.Every time the building creaked, she flinched just slightly.She didn’t know she was doing it.
Someone or something had her spooked.
And here he was—wounded, useless, and sitting in her light like a stray dog who knew the vet wouldn’t turn him away.He liked the pain and not just because he deserved it.Because pain got her in the room with him.That made him the worst kind of a selfish bastard.
She moved to another cut near his ear.Her hand brushed his jaw.He knew she could feel the bruise there.“You should’ve iced this,” she said.
“I wasn’t aiming to fix anything.Just didn’t want to stitch my own face.”
“You don’t need stitches.These strips will do the trick.”Her breath was shallow.Her eyes kept flicking to the window.
He couldn’t take it anymore.“May.”
“What?”
“You scared of something?”
