Page 21 of Ghost

I’d never forget what it felt like to watch him disappear through the rear corridor, knowing he was risking his life for one of our employees.

I washed my hair twice. Scrubbed my arms until they were pink. The heat relaxed my muscles without quieting my mind. So I finally shut off the water and put on a soft pair of sleep shorts and an oversized shirt. Then I dragged a towel through my hair until it was only slightly damp before I went back down the hall toward the living room.

Gavin was on my couch, cleaning a scrape across his knuckles. He’d changed into a different shirt, and a bruise was forming along one forearm. He looked up as soon as I stepped into the room.

I took the first-aid kit out of his hands. “You missed a spot.”

“Was saving it for you,” he murmured with a wink.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Of course you were.”

I dropped onto the cushion next to him, and his knee pressed against mine while I turned his hand over. He watched my face instead of what I was doing, but I noticed that every time I leaned in, his gaze dropped to the neckline of my shirt before it came up again.

“You had no right to give me a hard time for trying to go in.” My dab against the scrape was more gentle than my words. “Not when you went inside yourself.”

“I knew how to handle what was on the other side of that door.”

Thinking about what could’ve happened to him, I grimaced. “I couldn’t see how far the fire had spread, but I knew enough to help.”

“You did help.” He waited until I looked up and met his gaze to continue. “You accounted for every employee, directed my brothers to keep them safe, and prevented the controlled storage from becoming a second emergency. You didn’t need to be inside to make a difference.”

I was surprised by his easy acceptance of the point I was trying to make, and some of my tension eased at his breakdown of what I’d done. Keeping me outside didn’t mean he’d dismissed me. He’d still relied on my knowledge to better handle the situation.

“Stopping was hard when I knew somebody might still be in there,” I admitted.

“I’m not surprised. Your first move is toward whoever needs help. Mine is catching you before you get hurt. I expect we’re both going to get a lot of practice.”

I quirked a brow. “You make this sound like a long-term arrangement.”

He grinned. “You’re catching on much quicker now.”

I taped the last strip of gauze in place and sat back.

He flexed his fingers. “Very pretty.”

I laughed. “It’s gauze.”

“I was looking at you.”

My cheeks filled with heat, and he grinned. But his shoulders were still tight, and he glanced at the windows each time a car passed by.

I shifted away to put the supplies back in the first-aid kit, acutely aware of the heat from his palm when it settled on my thigh.

“Were you scared when I ran toward the fire?” I certainly had been when he did.

“I had you before the fear caught up.” His smile dimmed. “I can handle you being brave. And stubborn. But I need you to listen when I know something you can’t see.”

“I did listen.”

“Eventually.”

Huffing out a breath since I couldn’t really argue the point, I nudged his injured arm.

He caught my hand and interlaced our fingers. “Violence against your security detail?”

“I was checking your reflexes.”

“Excellent.” His fingers tightened. “Check them again.”