Just One Kiss (Fool's Gold #10)

“Charlie?”


While he knew and liked the firefighter, he wasn’t looking for a babysitter.

“Don’t try to get rid of her. She could so take you.”

“Especially today,” he murmured. “You don’t need your friends wasting their time while I’m in the hospital. What could happen here?”

“You could leave. Face it, Justice. I’m not budging on this. I flat-out don’t trust you to stay put.”

She released his hand and then pressed her palm against his forehead.

He smiled. “I think the nurses would notice if I had a fever.”

“Maybe. I’m not taking any chances.” She kissed him. “I’ll be back this afternoon to take you home.”

With that she turned and left.

Justice felt his eyes drift closed as exhaustion swept over him. Home, he thought. Home with Patience would be a very good thing.

* * *

PATIENCE WONDERED HOW long it would take her to get used to a 4:00 a.m. alarm. She’d changed her shower schedule to evenings. Once the alarm went off, all she had to do was wash her face, get dressed and braid her hair. She applied a little mascara and lip gloss and called it a win. She could be out the door in less than twenty minutes.

But this morning, she went extra fast so she could have a couple of minutes to check on Justice. He was sleeping in Lillie’s room at the end of the hall.

The previous afternoon, Charlie had stayed until Patience had returned and Justice had been released from the hospital. The two women had gotten him upstairs where he’d fallen asleep almost instantly. He’d awakened long enough to eat a light dinner, take his meds and then he was out.

She’d checked on him several times during the night, but he’d been sleeping. Now she walked quietly down the hall and pushed open the door.

“Morning,” he said, his eyes open, his voice a little groggy.

“Morning, yourself. It’s early. You shouldn’t be up.”

“I’m not up. I’m lying down.”

The night-light in the base of the lamp provided a soft glow in the room. He was a big, tough guy who barely fit in her daughter’s small bed. His broad shoulders practically spanned the mattresses. He needed a shave—which contrasted nicely with the princess sheets. An assortment of stuffed animals crowded between him and the wall, no doubt a gift from Lillie.

He should have looked foolish. Instead, she found his vulnerability sexy and appealing. Maybe because she knew that in just a few days, he would be his powerful self again. But for this moment in time, he needed her.

“Sorry you have to share your bed,” she said, pointing to the array next to him.

He raised one bare shoulder. “The frog is my favorite.”

“Lillie’s, too. When she was little, she kept waiting for him to turn into a prince. She was hoping he would agree to be her baby brother.” She moved toward the bed. “Do you need to get up and use the restroom?”

She wasn’t sure how she was going to maneuver him there and back, but she would make the effort.

“Already went about an hour ago.”

“You got up?”

“It beats making a mess in the bed.”

“You’re not supposed to get up.”

“I’m supposed to take it easy for the next few days,” he corrected. “I was there, Patience. I know what the doctor said.”

“Were you also there when he yelled at you for leaving the hospital in D.C. too early and for nearly bleeding out in my store?”

“I remember a little of that conversation, yes.”

She crossed to the bed and pulled the desk chair close, then sat down. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap, but better than I did.”

“You lost a lot of blood.”

She started to reach for his hand, then pulled back, not sure if she should. It had been different in the hospital. She wasn’t sure how, but it had been.

He solved the problem by grabbing her hand in his.

“I’m sorry I spoiled the grand opening,” he said.

“You didn’t. You made it memorable.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “How they’ll be talking.”

“Exactly. It makes my place part of the story, so they’ll be lining up to see where handsome Justice Garrett was shot.”

“I wasn’t shot there.”

“They won’t worry about details like that.” She studied his strong hands, then looked into his eyes. “Can I ask where in the world you were shot?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

“The civilian equivalent of classified?”

He nodded.

She knew so little about him, she thought. She could find him in the dark by scent or touch, but she knew almost nothing about what he did with his day. Where he went, who he worked for. He was a man who disappeared for several days and then came home with a gunshot wound.

“It scares me,” she murmured.

She thought he might ask for clarification, but instead he squeezed her hand.

“I’m nearly done with them. I’m going to be here, opening the academy.”

“Is that going to be enough? You won’t crave the excitement?”