“Bowfin?”
“Disgustin’.”
“What? No! You don’t chew them.”
“How else would ye eat the bloody things?”
I fought not to laugh. “You put them on your tongue, then take a drink and swallow them whole. Come on. One at a time.”
“Thank ye,” he said, sounding terribly relieved. “I only ate the one, a year or so back. Since then, no pain seemed worth the torture.”
By the last pill, he’d gotten the hang of it, and I helped him ease back onto the pillow. He didn’t want another ice pack.
“A mite easier to rest without it, I reckon.”
I nodded and gave his chest an awkward pat. “I’ll be quiet. Probably read a book. Try to forget I’m here.”
He caught my hand with his massive one and a wave of delicious chills shot from my toes up to my shoulders. “Dinnae go. Will ye sit beside me, just until I sleep?”
“Sure.” I tugged the blanket higher, then pulled it back again to take a good look at the blood covering his chest. “If you take off your shirt, I will soak it and try to get the blood out.”
“Ye’d do that fer me? I’d be grateful.”
I rubbed my hands together to warm up my fingers while he sat up and undid the buttons, then I pulled it off his shoulders and peeled it away from his arms. I forgot to breathe when I realized what I’d uncovered.
All muscle. Everywhere. On the kind of body that artists—and half the women on the planet—would kill to get their hands on. He laid back, and I stared out the window while I covered up all that glory with the blanket. My lucky thumbs brushed his chest and I froze.
“What aboot the troosers?”
“Troosers?” I had pulled the blanket nearly to his chin and couldn’t seem to let go.
“M’ denims. Are they covered as well?”
I tried to keep my eyes in my head and appear casual while I uncovered him once again to look at his jeans. His frame was so much larger than Nick’s, I couldn’t help but stare. The bones of his hips were wide, and they rode a good twelve inches above the mattress. He was massive!
It was a rare moment that I felt small and delicate. I was two inches taller than Nick, but he was convinced we were the same height. I wore flats all the time, which was hard when working in a kitchen, but I did it to save his pride.
I smiled when I realized I wouldn’t have to do that anymore.
Maybe it was my close proximity to the Yeti-man, but for the first time, I was able to think about my soon-to-be ex-husband and not feel that painful squeeze around my heart.
I understood why MacInnis was so concerned about his pants. They looked new, and I could smell the dye. But other than a couple of dark drips on his thighs, the blood had been absorbed by his shirt, and I told him.
“Then I’ll keep them, shall I?”
“Shall you?” I shook myself. “I mean, good idea.”
I didn’t want him stripping them off, now did I?
No. Definitely not, becauseIwould have to help him do it!
Bad idea, bad idea.
I tossed the blanket over him and turned away, not caring how it landed. I had to turn back, though, to snatch up the shirt,then I spun again toward the kitchen. He finally noticed that I was flustered and chuckled.
“Given that ye’ve seen me bare, Matty lass, I reckon ye can cease addressin’ me as Mr. MacInnis. Just Kee-un will do.”
“Okay. Kee-un,” I repeated.
