I run my finger along my jagged scar. It starts under my jaw and reaches my clavicle. “Because I’d rather not die in a car crash. I prefer operating on trauma patients. Not being one.”
His eyes darken, falling on the scar. In just a single long stride, he’s beside me, one hand wrapping around my waist, a thumb running down the line. His fingers are soft, only a feather-like touch on my skin, but they’re rough. And hot. My skin is on fire.
His lips are so close to my nose, as he towers over me, and I look up at him, the scent of smokey wood from whiskey he must have drunk on his way here.
″We’ll go somewhere closer, then.”
Pushing his patience, I ask, “What if a car runs up the street and hits me?”
“I’ll walk on the outside. It’ll hit me while I push you out of the way.” His accent gets thick when he’s intense.
“And if there’s a drive-by shooting? Or we’re mugged? And what about the zombie apocalypse?”
“One day you’ll trust me enough to tell me why you’re such a risk calculator. And I’ll be here to help you deal with it. Until then, I promise you’re safe with me, love.”
All the red flags in my life, everything leading up to this moment that tells me he isn’t a good person, they all go out the door. The way he looks at me as if I’m the only person in the world, even when I’m damaged goods, makes me feel alive.
For too long, I have managed nothing but negatives. Depression, anxiety, panic. The only time I’ve ever felt any peace is when I’m holding a scalpel, fixing the physical damages of a patient.
The nervous butterflies in my stomach is a new feeling, and I prefer it to the gnawing sensation in my gut.
I’m doing this, despite the risks. Despite the fear. I open my mouth, suddenly wishing the floor could swallow me whole. It’s now or never. “I’ll go change.”
Chapter fifteen
Gettingheroutofthe house proved more difficult than I originally anticipated. I refuse to let her sit alone, wasting her days depressed. She needs someone other than a bodyguard to spend her time with.
According to Paddy, she and Michael Griffin are close friends, but Scotty says she hasn’t talked about him or seen him. She does text him, though, and stays up talking to a woman named Andi, the one who owns the winery.
As we walk in the brisk night, she remains silent, unless I force her to speak. Her once tense shoulders are loose this evening, though, so I’ll take that as a win.
I decide that we will just go to a pizza shop and eat outside in a park, since she clearly isn’t ready for a proper date. One where I spoil her with affection, fill her stomach with food, pretend that I’m the perfect gentleman, and that I’m not a savage hiding behind tailored suits.
As we reach the shop, she’s describing a very nasty injury that a homeless man came to the emergency room with. And though it’s absolutely foul, she smiles as she explains just how lovely her evening was on this particular night.
″So, it smelled horrible. Horrendous, but it’s so amazing because maggots actually eat the dead flesh and leave healthy flesh behind. Before penicillin was created, that’s what was used.”
Intrigued, I wonder if Declan can use this to treat an infected wound, thus keeping someone in question alive longer.
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into me. Her body stiffens at first, but in the next stride, she relaxes and settles into me. Her body is learning to respond positively to my touch and I fucking love it.
Earlier when my thumb grazed along the scar on her neck, I felt her pulse quicken under my hand, saw the sparkle in her eyes.
″So, maggots are good, even though they’re foul little shites?” I ask, turning my head towards her. At six feet, I still have about six or seven inches on her, so the top of her head brushes my shoulders.
She nods. “They are, yes. Anyway, that was disgusting.” She gives an apologetic chuckle. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that as we’re about to head in to eat.”
″Not disgusting. I find it intriguing.”
″Do you?” She asks then laughs.
It’s the first time I’ve heard the sound and it’s something I want to hear again. My heart thuds as she wraps her hand around my waist. I’ve made it my mission to hear her laughter as often as I can.
″Aye. Tell me something else, then. Go on.”
She looks up at me, smiling so big, a dimple on her right cheek appears. That’s new too. I’ve never noticed it because I haven’t seen her truly smile before now. “Well, like what?” she asks.
I open the door to the pizza place, and she steps in first. “What about your favorite surgery? Is that a thing? Do you have one?”