"Only social workers and teachers ever called me Patrick."
The moment was growing too deep. Remembering I was sitting on a married guy's lap, I refrained from pushing the issue. I didn't ask whether or not he liked me calling him that. Instead, I focused on another tattoo of a plant. "What about this one? What does this stand for?"
"My favorite foster mother. She liked to garden."
We went through the list, from his wrist to his shoulder, going over the meaning behind each tattoo. I sighed wistfully after he explained the one symbolizing the first car engine he rebuilt from the ground up. I liked knowing what mattered most to him.
"I'd like to get a tattoo someday," I said thoughtfully, knowing exactly what mattered most to me as I gazed at my daughter.
"You will." Pick traced his finger delicately along the bare patch of skin behind my left ear. "Right here. You're going to get my name."
I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smile because I knew I shouldn't encourage his flirtatious attitude. "Always so sure of yourself, aren't you?"
He grinned. "Of course. I don't say shit I don't mean."
He sounded awfully serious about that. But I shook my head and finally let a smile seep out. Resting my head back on his shoulder, I continued to outline the pictures on his arm with my fingernail. "Your wife would probably kill me if she knew I was letting you hold me like this."
"Nah." He leaned in and buried his nose in my hair. As I listened to him inhale deeply, something tight and foreign wrapped around my stomach. "She's not like that."
Well, maybe she should be, because I wasn't feeling friendly companionship for him just now. Experiencing something so much deeper, I opened my mouth to argue. Accepting, non-jealous wife or not, this was still wrong. He belonged to someone else. I shouldn't let him keep coming to my rescue. It might not mean so much to him, but to me, it meant way more than I knew it should.
"In any case," I said, letting the issue drop so he wouldn't know just how much I was crushing on him. "I really appreciate you being here and talking me off my crying jag. You always know when to show up at just the right time to save me."
His arms tightened, and I knew he was thinking about what Alec had done.
I touched his face. "I'm serious, Patrick. Look at me."
He lifted his face, and I wanted to press my mouth to his so bad. "You did everything right that night. Now stop worrying about it."
Shaking his head, he gave me a small smile. "Right after you stop reading my mind, woman. It's too sexy."
I opened my mouth to tell him he found the strangest things sexy, but the nurse who'd made me cry returned. An irritated line deepened between her eyes before she focused on Pick's face. And just like that, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
"Oh, my lands. I didn't think I'd ever get to see your gorgeous tush again, Mr. Pick."
Pick grinned at her. "Hey, Charlotte. Have you been taking good care of my two girls, here?"
She glanced at me, looking slightly guilty before turning back to him. "I had no idea they were yours, but of course we have. Now come here and give me some sugar."
When she leaned past me, Pick dutifully kissed her on the cheek. Pulling back with a happy glow, Charlotte ducked her head from the room and called into the nurses' station. Within moments, the entire room was crowded with women crawling all over him, demanding hugs and kisses. He gently slid me off his lap and placed me back into the chair so he could oblige them, telling Whitney he liked her new hairstyle, and Megs that she looked as if she'd lost too much weight. In return, they pawed at him, cooed, and asked how Julian was doing.
Julian, right. That must be how they knew him. He had to have been here when his wife gave birth.
Another round of envy bit me in the ass as I watched him become the center of all my nurses' attention. He pulled out his phone to show off pictures of his son, and I shook my head in wonder. The man certainly knew how to work a roomful of women.
When he caught my eye, he winked and pointed as he asked the ladies, "My Tink's not giving you any trouble, is she? I know how sassy she can be."
The nurses rushed to assure him I was a perfect patient, aside from the fact I needed more rest.
After that, he took it upon himself to personally escort me to my room for a nap. I touched Skylar's fingers in farewell, hoping I'd soon be able to kiss her forehead, or cheek, or tiny little toes, or actually hold her in my arms. Then Pick took my hand and walked me back to my room. Once he tucked me back into bed where everyone seemed to want me, he pulled up his gift bag. The stuffed pink pig he brought for Skylar was perfect. I thanked him and held it to my chest long after he had to leave, saying he'd already stayed way past his lunch break.
The nurses were much nicer to me after that. One eyed the pig I was clutching and smiled knowingly. "From Pick?" she guessed.
I nodded, cuddling the stuffed animal to my chin.