Damn.
“It’s been three days; I need a shower and was going to—”
He’s already up and moving toward me.
“Shoulda said something,” he grumbles, plucking my mug and Kindle out of my hands before picking me up off the couch.
“Yanis, really. You’ve got stuff to do.”
“It’ll wait.”
He sets me down in the bathroom and I swallow my irritation at being carried like baggage everywhere. Surely that’s a bit extreme, despite what the doctor said. How do other people do this? Or what if roles were reversed?
“You know you have to stop lugging me around.”
He braces his hand on the vanity and leans in close.
“Look, I know you hate this, but the less strain you put on your body right now the faster you’ll recover. I want you back to normal and on your feet as much as you do.”
My body tenses up.
Right. In other words, he doesn’t want to waste any more time with me than necessary. I get it.
He growls and with a finger under my chin lifts my face. He’s so close I can see the golden swirls in his blue eyes. They darken when he’s angry or when he used to get turned on.
“Whatever you’ve got running around that mind of yours, stop. You overthink things. Let me look after you.”
It’s almost a plea and confuses me even more.
“Fine,” I mumble ungraciously, eliciting a sigh from him.
“Good. Can you get yourself undressed? I’m just gonna grab a kitchen chair so you can sit down in the shower.”
It shouldn’t bother me; I share a locker room with the guys back at the office. Those brief flashes of nudity don’t bother me. At least they don’t under those circumstances. But I feel vulnerable here, in my own bathroom, with him. More exposed and in much closer proximity.
My body has changed in the past decade or so.
Pushing through my discomfort, I quickly strip off my shirt and out of my lounge pants. I haven’t bothered with underwear since I got home. It’s easier this way.
Yanis returns with one of my plastic utilitarian kitchen chairs and sets it in the tub, turning the faucet on in the shower without even casting me a glance. With the water running he turns to me and sinks down on his knees, startling me when he picks up my bad ankle. With sure movements he takes off the brace.
“Looks a bit better,” he comments matter-of-factly, as if I’m not sitting here buck naked.
His complete focus is on my foot which does look better, less swollen. His eyes never venture up. Maybe he’s as uncomfortable as I am.
“I don’t mean to be a bother. I could’ve asked Willa to help.”
Now he looks up, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
“Willa is at the hospital.”
I shake my head, not understanding.
“Hospital?”
“Her baby is in the NICU.”
“Baby?”
I sound like a parrot but none of what he says makes sense. I’ve seen enough of Willa to know she was not pregnant. Besides, Dimi would’ve howled at the moon. The whole world would’ve known.
“They adopted a newborn. Told me last weekend.”
“I had no idea.”
“News to me too,” he says with a twist of his lips. “One person’s tragedy is another’s dream come true.”
Then he explains how this opportunity for Dimi and Willa came about as he helps me in the tub.
I try not to notice how his touch feels on my bare skin.
Yanis
I have a hard time concentrating on my client.
Good thing I thought, at the last minute, Radar should be sitting in because knowing him, he’ll have detailed notes of everything the man is rattling off.
My mind isn’t on work, it’s on the woman I left installed on her couch with the TV remote, her phone, a bottle of water, and a box of cookies by her side. Neither of us mentioned her red-rimmed eyes when I helped her dry off after her shower.
If not for years of experience curbing my baser instincts when it comes to Bree, I would’ve taken her wet, slick body in my arms. So fucking tempting. She’s changed over the years. Fuller, a bit softer, and undeniably more feminine than the tight, athletic body I remember.
I almost kissed her when I noticed the faint scar bisecting her lower belly. I tried not to stare at the unfamiliar sight, thoughts of what the incision might represent swirling around my head. I can’t remember a time she was off for longer than maybe a week at a time. Except perhaps the time right after I broke things off between us. The kind of surgeries that leave a scar like that would surely require a longer recovery.
She’d been gone for three-and-a-half months before she came back married. A marriage I wish I’d asked her about at the time.
I sure as hell intend to ask her about it now. Before I take this thing with Bree any further. One thing is clear, the chemistry we once had is still there, in fact, the air was thick with it earlier. The way her breath hitched and goosebumps rose on her skin when I touched her confirmed she felt it too. As soon as I can get through this meeting, I plan to pick up some dinner, head back to her apartment, and clear the air.
One way or another.
“You seemed distracted in there. Everything all right?”
Radar holds the door open to the parking lot as we walk out of the airport where we had the meeting with Jelnyk Mining security.
“Fine. Tell me you made notes?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Email them to me. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a response, I head toward the Yukon.
“Boss!”
Radar is still standing where I left him.
“Yeah?”
“Bree up for visitors?”
“No.” The denial is out before I can think. Fucking Radar smirks. “Call and ask her yourself. Tomorrow,” I add before I get behind the wheel.
I stop by the Village Inn to pick up a couple of All-American Cheeseburgers, Bree’s favorite, before heading back to her place.
She looks a little rumpled when I walk in, probably napping. She’s been doing a lot of that the past few days. I thought it was to avoid conversation with me, but maybe her body needs the extra sleep to heal.
“Is that…”
“Village Inn.”
The solemn face I’ve seen the past few days suddenly brightens up with the smile she shoots me.
“Yesss. I’m starving.”
One of the things I’ve always liked about her is her healthy, unapologetic appetite. The moment I hand her the plate I dumped her fries and burger on she dives in.
We’ve been eating quietly for a while when Bree speaks up.
“I had a call earlier. Follow-up appointment at St. Mary’s for four tomorrow afternoon. I can take a cab or something.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Well, I didn’t want to presume,” she adds snippily.
I know she hates not being independent—fuck, I’d hate it too—but part of me hoped it might’ve waned a little. At least with me.
“Haven’t spent the past few nights crashing here because your view rocks, Bree. Presumption is expected.”
She rolls her eyes but her mouth twitches.
“Fine. Thanks, and thanks for the burger. It’s my favorite.”