Page 33 of My Grumpy Boss
“Explain,” I grunt. “What the hell is going on, Hazel?”
She sways on her feet slightly, and my heart lodges in my throat. I look over at the hospital and wonder if I can distract her long enough to get her back inside the emergency room.
I step toward her, wrapping my arms around her like I’m trying to steady her, but really, I’m nudging her back toward the entrance.
I’ll get her seen by the doctor. They’ll help her feel better, and then I can take her home.
With my plan in place, I shuffle her back another few steps.
“I just… I didn’t know what this was,” she says, pointing between us.
I frown at her, moving her back another step. That’s not what I thought she was going to say. Not even close.
“Was?” I growl.
“Is,” she corrects.
“You’re mine,” I say simply.
“Okay, well, I didn’t know that,” she says, sounding annoyed.
“Did I not make that clear when I was making love to you all weekend?”
“I thought you were sleeping with me to scratch an itch and that it didn’t mean anything to you.”
“Scratch an itch? Are you insane?” I demand, gripping her shoulders as I stare her into her pretty eyes.
“You were cold!”
“What?”
“At the office. I was, I don’t know, I was hoping it would be different, but you went right back to being your grumpy self. So, I left early and went home.”
I stare at her, wondering how she could think I don’t want her with every fiber of my being.
Hazel gets frustrated with my silence and throws her arms up. “I’m not sick, Hudson! I’m sad.”
I want to shake her. I want to scream at her for scaring me and freaking me out today.
Instead, I take a deep breath and lean my forehead against hers. Feeling her skin against mine calms me, and I look down into her blue eyes.
“Scratch an itch?” I huff a humorless laugh. “Sure, that’s one way to put it, but this? It’s not an itch. It’s a lifelong affliction.”
“So, I’m a disease?”
I laugh outright then. “Sure, one that I never want a cure for.”
She shoves at my chest.
“Easy, Hazel. Let me finish.”
“Hurry up then!”
“I need you, baby. So fucking badly. I can’t function without you. I think you took ten years off my life today when I thought you were sick. Fuck, when you didn’t answer my calls and texts? I thought the worst.”
“I’m aware,” she says drily, glancing pointedly at the hospital.
I can see the hint of hope in her eyes again when they return to mine.
