“I drove her home from the hospital. No big deal.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
That elicited a laugh from Nate. “Driving her home? I think it worked out okay for everyone.”
“Seems above and beyond the call of duty,” Ed said.
“And?” Nate said, finally glancing toward his dad, who did, indeed, have a toothpick hanging out.
“Where were you last night?” his dad asked.
Nate met his gaze directly. “At her condo.”
Dylan let out a whoop, and Nate thought about punching him to shut him up. Then he realized how out of proportion that reaction was to the situation and shook it off.
“I made her dinner,” he said. “That’s all. Hell, you were still awake when I got home, old man.”
“You made her dinner? Shit,” Dylan said, and Nate’s dad stared at his son as if he’d just announced he was having a sex change operation.
“I can’t remember the last time you cooked a woman dinner,” Ed said, turning his back to the counter and leaning against it, arms crossed. “Oh, hold on a sec. I remember. Never.”
“Told you she’s hot,” Dylan said.
“How do you know what she looks like?” Nate asked.
“She was in the newspaper, man.”
Nate hadn’t thought to check it out, but he would.
“Gotta be careful, son. You’ll want to make sure she’s not a groupie.”
Nate scoffed. “She tried to ditch me when I came to pick her up, Dad.”
His dad let out a belly laugh, and of course, Dylan couldn’t shut the hell up either. Nate blew them off.
“She sounds like exactly what you need then.” Ed nodded, as if he were an expert on anything having to do with women. Of course he’d think he was, since, for the first time since Nate’s mom had left, the lieutenant was seeing someone. Seeing an awful lot of her.
“Rotten House!” Rafe Sanchez’s voice came from out in the hallway. “Better get out here!”
Nate rinsed off the clean pot and handed it to Dylan to put away. He dried his hands with a paper towel, beaned it at Dylan’s head, then went out to see what Rafe was hollering about.
“What the hell do you want, San—”
Sophie was standing in the hall where it intersected with the public entryway.
Nate stopped. Looked around for Rafe as if he could explain, but the medic had vanished.
“Wha— Sophie.” He walked toward her, unable to keep the smile off his face. “You’re not who I expected to see.” Behind him, he heard his father and his blockhead friend craning their necks out of the kitchen. “Go away,” he called over his shoulder.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Sophie said, looking shy. Nervous. Enticing.
“You’re much better-looking than Rafe, trust me.” He stopped a foot away and resisted the urge to touch her.
Her cheeks had spots of pink in them today, and her eyes looked more alive. The thin layer of coral-colored gloss she’d put on didn’t hurt either. In fact, it made him get caught up looking at her lips for too long. Her voice still had a sexy hint of roughness to it, and he wondered what she’d sound like when she was fully recovered. He selfishly hoped she didn’t lose all of the rasp.
“I brought homemade salted caramel brownies for everyone. To say thank you.”
He glanced down at the plastic-wrapped oval platter stacked three high with chocolate squares. “Smart, gorgeous, and she bakes, folks. Come with me.”
