“Like trying to get up and work when you’re supposed to be resting.”
A slow smile spread across his face, the kind that made my chest tighten in that annoying way that was happening more and more lately. “Then I guess you’ll have to stay close. Keep an eye on me.”
My mouth went dry. We were treading into dangerous territory here, and he knew it. He was toying with me. I was doing everything in my power to hate him.
But God help me, it was not working as well as I planned.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But you do what I tell you. No arguments.”
His smile widened. “Yes,sir.”
The words sent heat flooding through me, and I jerked my hand away like I’d been burned. “I’ll get your medication.”
I fled to the kitchen before he could respond, my heart pounding like I’d just run a marathon. What the hell was wrong with me? Two weeks ago, I would’ve been happy to let that cow trample him. To strangle the fucking life out of him myself. Now I was acting like some kind of worried spouse, fussing over him and feeling things I had no business feeling.
I grabbed the prescription bottle from the counter, filling a glass with water and trying to get my breathing under control. This was just gratitude. That’s all it was. He’d saved me from getting hurt, and I was returning the favor by making sure he recovered. Nothing more.
Keep telling yourself that, a voice in my head whispered.
I shoved the thought away and headed back to the bedroom, determined to keep things professional. Clinical. He was injured, I was helping him recover, end of story.
But when I walked back in and saw him lying there, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his jeans, all my resolve crumbled.
“Here,” I said, handing him the pills and water. “Take these and get some rest.”
He swallowed the medication, wincing as the movement pulled at his ribs. When he handed the glass back to me, our fingers brushed, and I felt that spark again.
“Will you stay?” he asked quietly. “Just until I fall asleep?”
I should’ve said no. Should’ve made an excuse about needing to check on the cattle or talk to Angelo. But instead, I found myself nodding.
“Yeah. I’ll stay.”
I pulled the chair from the corner and positioned it beside the bed, settling into it with a weariness that went bone deep. My own shoulder was still aching from where I’d hit the ground, but it seemed insignificant compared to Dante’s injuries.
He watched me through half-lidded eyes, the pain medication already starting to take effect. “You don’t have to sit in that uncomfortable chair.”
“Where else would I sit?”
“The bed’s big enough for two.” His voice was getting drowsier. “We’ve been sharing it for weeks now.”
He was right, but somehow this felt different. More intimate. Before, we’d maintained our careful distance, staying on opposite sides of the mattress like there was an invisible wall between us. Now he was asking me to sit close, to stay beside him.
“I’m fine here,” I said, even as my body protested the hard wooden seat.
“Suit yourself.” His eyes drifted closed, and I thought that was the end of it. But then he spoke again, his words slurring slightly. “Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Something in my chest squeezed tight again.Dammit. “Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it.” He turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open to look at me. “I know you didn’t want any of this. But you could’ve left me at the hospital. Could’ve told Angelo to handle it. You didn’t have to?—”
“Just get some rest, Dante.”
He was quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe he’d finally given up. “I care about you, you know. It’s not just business anymore. I’m not sure if it ever was to begin with.”
