“You have no concept of personal boundaries, do you?” Winnie breaks into my thoughts, chattering at the rate of a woman starved for social interaction on her single day a week off while Sally’s at school. “Dress in your room. I know you’re used to the company of wolves and other nomads like yourself, but us people? We havedoors.” She passes me a refilled mug, making sure her kimono-sleeved cardigan doesn’t dip into the dark liquid as she gestures at my semi-bared midsection.
I tug my top down and rescue my coffee obediently. “If your plan for world domination includes burning people from the inside out, you’ve hit on a success. I have a bra on.” I stretch tender shoulders from poor posture during my data-entry phase. A dull throb pulses at the back of my head, reminiscent of the headache that finally fully passed a few days ago, though the migraine meds provided enough relief to focus on basic daily tasks. “Anyway, it’s just us.”
Winnie fixes me with a hard stare. “I could have brought a hot date home.”
“You don’t date. Wait, do you have an eye on one of the other paramedics?”
“No!” she protests.
“Too fast.” I grin, cradling my coffee. “Who?”
“Never.” Her cheeks flushing pink, Winnie folds her arms, her spine straightening.
“It’s not a paramedic…” I pretend to think, tapping my chin. “One of the doctors? You’ve gone allGrey’s Anatomyon me.”
“I’m surprised you know what that is. And he’s a nurse.” Her mouth clamps shut as the confession slips past her lips.
Aha.Winnie never gives out freebies like that. “Youmustlike him.” I approve. “Tell me about Hottie McNurse, then.” I offer her a winning smile, sorely needing the distraction from the ghost of her brother.
Winnie sighs.
“That bad, huh?” I raise a sympathetic eyebrow.
“You. Have. No. Idea. Curly hair on top, the ringlets of His Lordship Bridgerton you just want to wrap around your fingers. Totally clean-shaven, complete sweetheart. Utterly competent. Professional pride and all. Not snobby. Open to everyone. Makes a mean chicken salad sandwich.”
“Those are great things.” I lean across the scarred melamine benchtop, waggling my hips. “But…”
“What?” Defensive Winnie makes an appearance. She sighs. “Fine. He’s a guitarist for a retro-grunge band that performs at an underground bar on weeknights when he’s not on shift.”
And there it is.We’ve been through so much worse than a grunge guitarist. This is a positive step as far as I can see. Plus, he’s fed her. Double positive. “Musicians are your weakness. Wait—they still have those sorts of bars?”
Winnie nods with far too much enthusiasm for my still-tender head to track. “Hell, yes. I watched a video. He’s good. And he plays shirtless.” She dances at the bench.
“I knew there’d be something else.” I smirk at the image Winnie describes, but it’s not a bare-chested Hottie Rockstar McNurse that’s imprinted on the backs of my eyelids. I swipe fingers across my eyes to banish Cord’s shade.
Obsessed, much?
“Cord?”
What is she, a mind reader? I start guiltily, turning back to my best friend. “Coyote Falls is pretty.”
“And the owner?”
“Stop that. He’s your brother. Isn’t that supposed to make him off-limits or something?”
I so desperately need him to beor something.
Winnie snorts. “You know I’m still picking paint out of Sally’s hair?”
“Apparently, she’s a crack shot.”
“That’s my girl.” Winnie jiggles again in a different sort of victory dance, mom pride beaming across her face.
“How come I’ve never heard of your brother before this week?” I poke her with my bare toe.
“Feet!” Winnie recoils, retreating to the far corner of the small kitchen.
“Eep.” I forgot her aversion to all things toe-related in my post-migraine haze. “Sorry.”
