Of course, he laughed. “Wednesday.”
Her mouth opened to uselessly repeat his confounding response before the answer clicked. Wednesday was the day she’d brought him lunch. The day she’d run to his room—to his presence—to hide from the overwhelming upset Bishop had caused her. The day she’d stepped, just the tiniest bit, out of line. The day she’d let him comfort her with his touch, even if only a little.
It was that memory, his strong fingers coming to rest on her shoulder in a steadying press and a simultaneously gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone, that cracked the wall she’d worked so hard to build around herself. She replayed the way she had reached up and taken hold of his hand, not to toss away his touch, but to hold on to it.
Wednesday. Shit.He wasn’t wrong.
Lynnette heaved a breath and spoke before she could overthink the response that followed her weird, astounding, highly concerning revelation. “Why don’t we just meet up somewhere and … see where it goes?”
Chapter fourteen
Grumpy Old Men
Lance set his phoneon the dash of his shiny new acquisition and leaned back, trying to clear his head. Jon hadn’t exaggerated that dealership. It’d only taken him twenty minutes to spot the ride he wanted, perfect color and all, and the salesman had been thrilled to start his day on a win. Turned out, they even offered a veteran discount.
Lynn was definitely going to frown at him when she realized he’d driven himself. But she’d forgive him, and soon enough, she’d understand.
He blew out a breath.
Dietz had finally gotten back to him with the intel on Gavin Bishop, and suffice it to say, it’d been a damn good thing Lance wasn’t still attached to a bunch of electrical machines when he read through the report. Bishop was a walking dirtbag son of a bitch, and Lance looked forward to breaking him. Violently.
He had all the information he needed to make it happen, aside from the scum doctor’s exact working hours, but Bishop’s demise had to wait. Not because the bastard deserved a reprieve.
Rather, because if there was one thing that mattered more, it was the woman who’d just stepped into view up ahead. She held a simple umbrella to shield herself from the light rain, but it did nothing to obscure his line of sight. The woman was gorgeous in nursing scrubs, so it was no surprise she was jaw-dropping in civilian clothes. He let his eyes drink their fill as she approached.
Fitted jeans, low-heeled boots, a semi-fitted, scoop-necked sweater in shades of red that started darker at the top and lightened on the way down. He couldn’t remember the name or color style. Nor did it matter. Her auburn hair was loose around her shoulders for the first time since he’d met her, swaying softly with her every step, and a purse was tucked up high on her shoulder.
His mouth had gone dry and his dick had grown hard by the time he ran his eyes over her again.Fuck me.Which he knew better than to hope for on their first partially acknowledged date, but that did not stop his mind from running off with new fantasies. Fantasies that involved tossing her pretty sweater onto the hood of his polished, four-year-old Charger to see which shade of red best matched the paint job.
Lance groaned, shoved the lustier thoughts as far back as he could manage, and popped his door open. He didn’t bother with a coat or any hooded fabric. The rain might help cool him off. He barely remembered to snatch his phone up before locking the car and stepping into her path, and he caught her sweeping gaze with a wide, honest grin.
Of course, her eyes flicked to the dark red vehicle he’d just exited and her tempting mouth curved into a frown. “Lance,” she greeted when she was near enough, “I thought you promised to get a ride.”
He shrugged. “I needed something, anyway.” He jerked his thumb toward the car. “Saw this at the dealership this morning and couldn’t pass it up.”
She huffed, her eyes twinkling as she fought to hide her amusement. “You would pick something red.” Her gaze slid back to him. “Still, you shouldn’t be driving yet.” She looked him over. “And I didn’t expect you to be thrilled with the crutches, but you should at least have a cane.”
Lance chuckled. She was absolutely right about the crutches the hospital had sent him out with—he’d tossed those damn things the first chance he had. But she was wrong about why. Instead of saying any of that, he reached out and pilfered the umbrella from her startled grip, simultaneously saying, “Lynn, you’re not my nurse anymore.” He stepped under the wide-brimmed shield, bringing himself inside her personal space, and scooped her newly freed hand into his. Without breaking eye-contact, he lifted her hand up until he could press his lips to the knuckles she’d had bandaged the last time he’d seen her.
They were unbandaged now, thankfully, but at close range he could still see a couple of small blemishes where the worst splits hadn’t finished healing. He understood that was to be expected. He’d done his share of fist fighting. But he didn’t ever want to see that on his woman again. So, he pressed his lips to each mark in turn.
“That’s— You don’t need to—”
He smiled against her skin before reluctantly allowing her hand to slide from his grip. The flush staining her cheeks and burning down her neck was equal parts adorable and sexy as fuck. “I hate that you were in danger and I couldn’t be there to protect you,” he admitted. “I hate seeing bruises and cuts on your skin.” He reached up and brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek, just to touch her, just to see how she might react.
Her eyes dilated and her lips parted faintly.
“If I can’t do anything else,” he said, “let me replace your pain with pleasure.”
Her chest heaved and she laid one hand against his abdomen, almost tentatively. “I don’t know … if this is even acceptable. You and I. Romantically, I mean.”
Lance quirked a brow and moved his hand to curl a finger beneath her chin. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He knew what she would say, but he needed to make her articulate the words before he could counter them.
Her brow pinched. “I’m a nurse,” she said, as if it were all the explanation in the world. As if nurses weren’t allowed interpersonal relationships. “And you’re still recovering from a wound that landed you under my care.”
He grinned at her. “Sweetheart, I intend to always be under your care from now on.” He let his thumb graze over her skin. “More importantly, I’m not a patient of any hospital anywhere right now. I’m just a guy getting over an injury. And you, Lynn, are more than your career.”
Her eyes widened again.
