“Wilde, you can tear all my clothes off when we get home and are alone.”
He frowned. “You should probably get some rest.”
She met his concerned gaze. “You should give me what I want.”
He handed her the shirt that read The Snuggle Is Real. “What do you want?”
She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tugged him close. “You.” Then she put her shirt on, grabbed her black leggings, pushed her feet into them, pulled them up to her thighs, then jumped off the bed to finish shimmying them over her hips, when she lost her balance and nearly fell sideways.
Hunt caught her and growled. “Slow down. The doctor told you not to stand up so fast.”
She held his arm in a death grip. “I’m okay. Just a tiny bit dizzy.”
“Can you see?”
She looked up at him. “Yes. I recognize that disgruntled frown.”
“Sit on the bed. I’ll help you with your shoes.” He turned to look for them.
“I wasn’t wearing any when you picked me up and carried me out to the car.”
He faced her again. “Oh. Okay.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
The nurse walked in with her papers, pushing a wheelchair. “Here you go. The information for your next appointment is included. Do you need anything else?”
“No. I’m ready to go.”
Hunt helped her slowly stand, walk to the wheelchair and sit down.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
“I spoke to my dad a little while ago. He put it in the fridge. We can eat when we get home.” Hunt held her hand as the nurse wheeled her out of the room and they rode the elevator down to the lobby and outside to the curb where his police SUV was still parked.
He helped her into the front seat and buckled her in, then went around the car and climbed behind the wheel. Just before he was about to pull out of the hospital his phone rang.
“Wilde,” he answered.
“It’s Reid. There’s been another home invasion.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cyn took the jacket Hunt handed her and draped it over her legs and feet. She snuggled into it and stared at the farmhouse twenty yards in front of the car. The glass in the front door had been broken. It stood open now as one officer dusted the doorknob for prints while another took photos of the man lying just inside the entry on his back. She could only see his worn cowboy boots. The older couple had been in town for dinner, then arrived home to find the front door busted open. The man went in to investigate and found the robber. The man was shot. The woman pistol-whipped outside on the porch when she ran to help her husband.
The house had been ransacked for cash and valuables. A man lost his life, a woman her beloved husband, all because some selfish asshole wanted to take what didn’t belong to him and didn’t care about the people he hurt.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay out here? I can call Max to come and get you and take you home.”
It was late. She didn’t want to wake his brother, who would more than likely be babysitting her again tomorrow. “I’ll be fine,” she assured Hunt. “But you could have just dropped me at my place when we passed it.”Not that she wanted to be alone. She wanted to be with Hunt.
“I’m not leaving you alone. For all the reasons we’ve already discussed. Not to mention, you just got out of the hospital. Again. If you’re not with me, then I want you with someone who can watch over you just in case.”
“I’m fine.”
He tucked the jacket around her. “Are you still cold?”