Page 234 of Cross Checked
“There’s the injury inventory,” I said.
Cade stopped near the mudroom, his bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a dull thud. “The what?”
“That.” I gestured at his face, which was rude of me because his face had done nothing except be devastating and perfect. “The injury inventory. The emotionally repressed medical audit. The very organized obsession, but make it WebMD.”
His jaw flexed. “You’re holding your side.”
“I am holding my side because my side is attached to me.”
“You were reaching.”
“For a mug.”
“You shouldn’t be reaching.”
A laugh burst out of me, sharp and humorless. “Oh my gosh.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You are all impossible.”
“Bliss,” Aura warned from the living room.
“No.” I held up one hand without looking at her. “I am having a moment.”
Cade’s attention didn’t leave me. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I have been resting for four days. I have rested so hard I might legally qualify as furniture.”
Briggs’s mouth opened.
Cade’s eyes cut to him. “Don’t.”
Briggs shut it.
Good. Fine. Whatever. Maybe captain voice was useful.
Cade moved toward me, and I hated how badly my body liked it. Four days of him being careful, four days of forehead kisses and soft hands and enough restraint to make me want to crawl out of my own skin, and now all it took was him walkingacross a kitchen to make my pulse trip over itself like a drunk girl in heels.
“You need to sit down,” he said.
The entire kitchen went still, and I lifted my brows.
Rider made a tiny sound under his breath and looked at the floor. Ryan closed his eyes like he had just witnessed a preventable crash. Aura muttered something from the living room that sounded suspiciously like, “wrong move.”
I stared at Cade. “Excuse me?”
He heard my tone and still chose gentle when I was clearly choosing violence.
His expression tightened, but he didn’t back off. “You’re hurting.”
“I am always hurting right now. That doesn’t mean you get to captain me in the kitchen.”
“Pip.”
“No.” My voice sharpened enough that Charm sat up straighter on the couch. “Do not Pip me like I’m being difficult because I want to make my own tea.”
“You winced.”
