Page 26

Daniel paused at the end of the hallway, just to watch Polly laugh at the canine antics.

She petted and praised both dogs before turning her smile to Daniel. “Everything’s good?” He nodded. “Thank you.” She pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer and patted the sofa cushion. “Now, let me see your knee.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s bleeding.”

He looked. Yep, it was still oozing blood. He sat.

She shoved two pills and a bottle of water into his hands. “I brought some ibuprofen for your headache, too.”

“How did you know?” He knew he hadn’t complained. Hell, he hadn’t said much of anything to her on the ride back from the hospital parking garage. He’d just verified directions to her place, and then warned her not to get out of her car until he’d parked and came to walk her inside.

She pointed to her own eyes and mouth to indicate his. “You’re squinting against the light. Your frown is more pronounced than usual. You’re grumpy and taciturn.”

“I’m always grumpy and taciturn.”

“Not always.” She grinned and pointed to her lips again. “You have a little tic at the corner of your mouth. The undamaged side. It quivers when you’re amused—it’s not quite a smile, but I think it’s your version of one.” He frowned at her claim, and she chuckled. She reached out and touched the corner of his mouth, and every last nerve ending in his body seemed to rush to that small spot where her skin pressed against his. “No quivering since we left the diner.”

When she pulled away, he missed her touch. He felt edgy, almost desperate to feel her tender touch on his skin again. Instead of giving in to those hungry urges, and doing something that might scare her, like dragging her up onto his lap and kissing her senseless, he dutifully swallowed the pills and concentrated on the cool water sliding down his throat.

But it wasn’t enough to shut down those frissons of awareness completely. She sat on the cushion beside him, a nurse again, focused and gentle. “Hmm. I think I can reach the injury through the hole you tore, without cutting your jeans or having you take off your pants.”

“I’m not taking off my pants,” he grumbled, afraid of what he might reveal to her if she kept up those bold, gentle touches. He might not be a whole man anymore. But parts of him were still very much male—and attuned to every sensation this woman sparked inside him.

She rose up onto one knee and inched closer. “I’ll make this work then. Tell me if I hurt you.” The sting of antiseptic was nothing. The warmth of her fingers probing inside the ripped denim, the way her hair fell forward so her long, golden ponytail brushed his thigh, the hums in her throat as she silently evaluated her options—was everything.

Polly cleaned the wound, then blew lightly to cool the alcohol, and he thought he might die from the softness of that breath. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she dabbed on antibiotic cream, smoothed the bandage into place and tugged the rip in his jeans back together. “There. Marine-proof.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“Your turn.” She swung her legs onto the cushion, carefully rolling the shredded fabric of her scrubs back to expose an ugly scrape of road rash that matched his. The skin around the raw skin of her knee was pink, and a thin ribbon of blood had already dried at the edges. “I guess these pants are toast. I promise not to cry if it stings.”

He exhaled a deep breath, hating that he hadn’t been able to prevent her injury.

As if she could read his thoughts in the way his fingers hovered above her leg, she reached out and squeezed his hand. “You saved me from going head-to-head against a speeding car. A skinned knee is nothing compared to that.” She waited until he nodded before she pulled away. “I’m ready. Do your worst.”

“I’ll do my best,” he insisted, holding her gaze until her teasing smile disappeared.

He cleaned her wound with the same care she’d shown him. Her skin was cool from the night air, smooth under his steadying palm. He was absurdly conscious of how small her knee was in his hand, how much trust it took to put a vulnerable piece of herself under his fingers. He taped the bandage, his thumb lingering a beat longer than it needed to on the soft inside seam of her knee. Somehow, she’d scooted or he’d pulled her closer, and her feet had ended up on his thigh. The gentle swell of her breast brushed against his arm. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he didn’t want to pull away.

“Thank…you.” Her breath hitched as if she was feeling the same buildup of heat in the room that he was. “Daniel…?”

He grunted because words felt like too much. He was overwhelmed with emotion. Overwhelmed by Polly.

When he couldn’t even come up with a you’re welcome, she quickly turned and rolled her stained pant leg back into place. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment as she gathered up the first aid supplies and carried them to the bathroom. Then, with Luna hot on her heels, she hurried to the front door and shoved her feet back inside her boots.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts and rising to his feet.

She reached for her coat. “Luna needs to go outside before bedtime.”

Daniel plucked the coat from her hand. He couldn’t fix her life. Couldn’t erase whatever shadows had found her. But he could do this. He could make her life a little easier. He could keep her from taking unnecessary risks. “I’ll go.”

“I’m perfectly capable—”

“I’ll go,” he repeated, hanging the coat back on its hook. “Shower,” he said, gentler than he felt, refusing to let the image of her naked beneath the hot spray distract him from his purpose. “Get warm. Put on clean clothes. Pirate and I will take care of Luna.”

At the mention of his name, Pirate trotted over and let Daniel put on his purple sweater and hook the leash to his harness.