“Not often.”
“Explains why you’re so light. You should eat cookies.”
He’d carried her, she remembered. “You know my approximate body weight. I should know your name.”
He laughed again, a low rumble that warmed her. “That and you should know the names of guys who sit on your hospital bed. Nate Rottinghaus.”
“Nate,” she repeated. She nodded, trying to find the right words for what she needed to say, even though she and Iona had discussed it at length. Owing someone her life was unfamiliar territory.
She attempted to clear her throat, but that hurt. Rough, unsexy voice it was, then. “Nate,” she said again. “Thank you for saving my life.” Her sore throat swelled up around the words and her eyes dampened. She swallowed hard in order to continue, but nothing else came to her. “Just … thanks.”
“I was just doing my job.” His tone was light, as if to brush off her thanks.
“Maybe, but…” She shook her head, afraid if she said more her voice would crack or one of those damn tears would actually run down her face and embarrass her.
Nate squeezed her hand and encased it between both of his. She soaked up the reassurance, the security of his strong, tanned hands protecting her smaller one. Tried to remember the last time she’d held a man’s hand and felt like this. Scratch that — she hadn’t felt like this. She’d held a few hands, been with a few guys, but she’d usually been too preoccupied or too worried about their next move to appreciate much.
“You seem to be doing better,” Nate said, saving her again, this time by changing the subject when she was so worked up. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this rescue habit of his.
“How’s your head feel?” he asked.
Sophie frowned. “How did you know I hit my head?”
“Nurse mentioned it when I was here yesterday.”
“Was that only yesterday? It seems like a week.”
“I would’ve come sooner today but I worked half a shift for a buddy. Just got done at seven.”
“You didn’t have to come,” Sophie said, feeling suddenly panicky because of his intent and the way it made her heart do a little dip. “You’ve gone over and above the call of duty. Way beyond.”
“Maybe this has nothing to do with duty.” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hand, his touch gentle. Soothing.
Too soothing.
She pulled her hand away, running it through her hair, trying to play it off. Which reminded her, her hair was bad news. She’d managed a shower earlier, but she’d been too worn out to blow-dry her hair or do anything to it.
“Your hair looks fine,” Nate said as if he’d known her for years and could read her every thought.
Sophie swallowed nervously. Summoned the energy to shift herself upward and over, putting a couple of inches between them. She fiddled with the bed controls, raising the head a few degrees.
Nate stood abruptly. Looked instantly uncomfortable, as if maybe he hadn’t planned on getting so cozy either. His eyes flicked to the floor, allowing a flash of insecurity to show before he shoved it aside. But she’d seen it. And it eased her mind a little. Allowed her to relax her shoulders.
He was an honorable guy — she knew it instinctively. He apparently felt compelled to make sure she was okay. There was no reason for the tension in her gut.
Lie.
He was too good-looking, with his quiet concern in those beautiful hazel eyes and his stubbled, square jaw that, if she was honest, made her want to reach out and run her fingers over it. And the arms, oh, my God, the arms. He wore a plain hunter-green T-shirt, and his biceps bulged out of the sleeves for all the world to admire. No wonder he’d said she was light — he could probably lift four times her weight with those muscles. He turned toward her, and she took in the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips. She forced her eyes to meet his.
“You never answered my question,” he said.
Her brain felt scrambled, and it wasn’t from her head injury. Her mouth was suddenly dry, so dry, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember what he’d asked. “What…?”
“Your head? Better?”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Everything’s good enough that I get to go home tomorrow.”
“That’s great. What time?”
