Ah, Jack. Ever the charmer.
Blake’s brow lowered, and his mood seemed to disintegrate before my eyes. I grabbed his hand and dragged him down to me. His glower lessened briefly as he looked me over. When his gaze landed on my mouth, there was nothing but appreciation in his hazel eyes.
“Morning, Ms. Copeland,” the nurse said. “Let’s get you freshened up. The doctor will be in to see you within the hour.”
“Perfect,” Blake said. He brushed his lips over mine, then glanced at the tray. “Jell-O?”
“I happen to like orange Jell-O.”
He licked his lips. “Hmm.”
The nurse pushed over the wheelchair that had been stashed in the corner. She was a far chipper version of my nurse from last night. I was pretty sure I’d rather have the efficient one back. This one babbled incessantly as she got me into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, we were back in my room and Mari ‘with an i’ had me back in bed. My IV had been banished sometime in the night, thank goodness. Maybe that was a good sign.
I was more than ready to get the hell out of there.
“How was Mr. Neal?” I asked.
Blake held up the sheet for me to slip back into bed. I hissed as my foot hit the mattress. His eyes went flat with no expression as he caught sight of my ankle.
“Looks worse than it is.”
“It looks like you were trying out for the part of the author in Misery.”
“That’s pretty accurate.” I grinned up at him. “Just don’t tell me you’re my biggest fan, all right?”
His knuckles were white from his grip on the blankets and sheet.
I curled my fingers around his wrist. “I’m fine.”
“What the hell were you doing in there?”
I winced as I inched my way up to a more comfortable spot on the bed. “I’m pretty sure you know.”
He frowned as he sat in the chair Jack had vacated. “I’m sure I don’t.”
“So, you weren’t reading my grandmother’s journal last night? Was I dreaming?”
“I read it.”
At least he didn’t lie about that. “She talked about the cove a lot. That she went there to think.”
“I think on my run, doesn’t mean there’s anything nefarious about it.”
I turned onto my hip. “And on that run, you don’t have anything besides a course that maps out a five kilometer loop?”
“How do you know that?”
“I may not run, but I can guess by the almost identical time you spend on each run that there’s a particular goal in mind.”
“Actually, it’s more accurate to infer I have to run until I don’t feel like strangling someone.”
“Me?”
“Sometimes.”
I shrugged. “And on this circuit there’s nowhere you could hide something in plain sight?”