“Shit.” He fumbles over his words. “I—I didn’t mean it like that.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice as his gaze locks on mine, and my nervous system forgets how to function.
“You’re always beautiful, Angel.” His throat works before he adds, quieter this time, “The first time I saw you . . . I didn’t think you were real.”
It takes me a full second to remember how breathing works.
Then another to remember I’m standing in the hospital where I work.
“Excellent recovery,” I murmur, lifting the coffee to my lips, mostly because I need something to do with my hands.
He didn’t just bring my coffee exactly how I like it on one of the harder days I’ve had in a while, Emmettismy salted caramel latte—sweet, salty, and incredibly delicious.
I stare down at the cup, then back at him.
“You made this exactly how I drink it.”
One shoulder lifts like it’s no big deal. “Took a few tries.”
My chest seems to go all soft and mushy inside at that.
“If this is how you keep busy . . .” I meet his gaze over the rim of the cup. “I could get used to it.”
His mouth parts slightly before he catches himself. “I’ll replace the pods.”
I huff out a tired sigh.
“Emmett.” My voice softens without permission. “Don’t ruin this by being practical.”
I lift the cup a little.
“This was thoughtful.” My eyes hold his. “And exactly what I needed.”
His lips pull into the adorably serious frown. “How much longer are you working?”
“Not long.” I smirk. “Tell me about your appointment.”
“I got the referral to Kara at the gym, and Dr. Chondra cleared me from follow-ups.” He palms the back of his neck. “No news on my return to work plans yet; I have to call my superintendent this afternoon.”
“That’s . . .” I force my voice to cooperate. “Good.”
The word tastes all wrong.
“You’ll be out of here and back at work before you know it.”
For a long beat, neither of us says anything. His gaze drifts over my face, lingering in a way that makes the tiny hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
“I don’t blame you for being eager to get rid of my sour ass.”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “Keep this up and I’m going to have Trace addpersonal baristato the lease requirements for my next tenant.”
The teasing dies on my tongue when movement over Emmett’s shoulder catches my eye.
Down the hall, leaning against the wall outside one of the conference rooms, Dr. Smith watches us like he’s been there awhile. When our eyes meet, he taps the face of his watch and tilts his head toward the open door.
My stomach drops.
Of all the days.
