Page 32 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
I popped my chin into the air. Jeez. Rick's jealousy hadn't dulled at all over the last six weeks. Tough cookies. I wouldn't go back on my word. "Then I suppose you'll just have to trust me."
"It's him I don't trust. I take care of what's mine."
I rolled my eyes and leaned away from him. "You don't own me." I wanted to add that we weren't even exclusive, but I was afraid it would start an argument that would make me late. As it was Rick looked like he wanted to punch something.
I rolled the window back up.
* * * * *
St. John's Rehabilitation Center is attached to the hospital, a state of the art facility with physical therapy, massage, and acupuncture. When I walked in the front door, Logan was already in the waiting area, his cane propped against his leg. Thinner than he had been as a ghost, his physique had come a long way over the last six weeks. The outline of long, lean muscle was visible under his clingy athletic shirt. He'd shaved the beard he'd grown while in the coma, but left his hair a little longer than it had been in his spectral state.
His smile was the same as always. "Grateful, you came."
"Wouldn't miss it." I handed him the drink. When he took it from me, he grabbed the bottle right above my hand, engulfing my fingers in his. He didn't immediately pull the goods away. I retracted my hand and placed it safely on my hip. "How are you feeling today, anyway?"
"Good. Right hip is still giving out on me occasionally. I think another couple of months of this, and I'll be able to resume some normal activities."
"Another couple of months?"
"Yeah." He tipped back the sports bottle, and I watched green liquid slosh into his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut against the taste and chugged.
I popped out a hip, my bottom jaw jutting forward in an exaggerated pout. "That's funny because I heard you're going back to work at Valentine's this weekend."
He choked on a swallow. In a fit of coughing, his hand lashed out to cover his mouth and knocked over his cane. Face red, he set the sports bottle down on the side table and really poured on the steam, hacking like a machinegun.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and I also heard there's a welcome back party next Saturday night, that I wasn't invited to."
As if he could explain everything if only he could survive the siege on his lungs, he waved a hand dismissively. I noticed the eruptions from his throat becoming more controlled, even forced. The jig was up. I swiped his hand out of the air and leaned forward until our noses almost touched. He gave one last pitiful cough as my eyes dug into his. "Just admit it, Logan. You're better."
He dropped the charade. After checking over his shoulder to make sure none of the rehab staff were watching, he bounded from his chair and swept up his fallen cane before returning to his seat.
I gasped theatrically. "You little weasel!"
"Oh, please. You suspected as much all along. You've been playing the game as well as I have."
"What? Don't try to turn this around on me."
"No? You're innocent, eh? Just so you know, this energy shake tastes like ass." He picked up the green juice and poked a finger in my direction. "This ain't wheat grass, darlin'. You've been slipping me a potion against my will."
I pointed a finger back at him. "That was for your own good. And it wasn't against your will. You chose to drink it."
"I didn't know it was magic."
"Obviously you did, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"And obviously you suspected I was better because you've been pumping me up with healing juju the last six weeks. Jesus, I might never catch a cold again."
My jaw worked, opening and closing in a weak attempt to form a rebuttal. I composed myself, straightening up so I was looking down my nose at him. "You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you?"
At that moment, Miss Physical Therapist America passed by and gave me a harsh look. Really, who has a waist that long and thin without plastic surgery?
"Please, keep your voice down," she reprimanded me sternly.
Logan's eyes darted in her direction and he flashed her an overly charming smile followed up by a short wave. His eyes twinkled. Was that a dimple in his chin?
She smiled back. "Just a few more minutes, Mr. Valentine."
