I thanked him as he left, then swallowed the pills the nurse gave me. The numbness was starting to wear off and it hurt something fierce.
“The pain medication will make you sleepy,” she cautioned, “so no driving or operating heavy machinery, okay?”
“But Thursdays are backhoe night,” I deadpanned.
Parker snorted a laugh, but the nurse didn’t so much as crack a smile. Maybe she didn’t know what a backhoe was.
Hands full of papers and pill bottles, we left the ER and Parker drove me to my apartment. It was pushing six o’clock and my stomach grumbled all the way, complaining about my lack of afternoon snack. It would’ve embarrassed me, but the medicine had taken hold and I dozed in Parker’s passenger seat.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re home.”
I mumbled something, prying my eyes open. My hair was in my eyes, but even as I thought it, Parker was brushing it aside. His hand touched my cheek and my heavy eyelids fluttered closed again. I expected him to retreat, but to my surprise, he cupped my jaw. The warm slide of his thumb across my cheekbone felt like having a drink of water after running five miles on the treadmill (which I was just guessing at because I’d never been able to do more than three), and a small sigh escaped me.
When I managed to overcome the medication-induced lethargy enough to open my eyes again, it was to see Parker quite close, staring at me. Gone was the lightheartedness he’d distracted me with in the emergency room. Now his expression was grave, his lips pressed together and his brow furrowed.
“You’re looking grim,” I said, my voice soft in the quiet car. “Thinking of how much work you’re going to have to do tonight to make up for this afternoon?”
“Thinking of how you were nearly taken from me. Again.”
I was too tired and my brain was moving too slow to process how to respond to that, so I blinked at him. Once. Slowly.
Parker didn’t seem to require a response, though. His fingers brushed my face, traced my brow, trailed down my cheek to my lips.
Unable to tear my gaze away from his, I waited … for what, I didn’t know. The things he’d said the other night, the insinuations and hints that he felt more for me—wanted more from me—were confusing. I thought I’d finally “gotten over” Parker, sort of, and now he was reeling me back in with almost effortless ease.
He was close enough to kiss, if I just leaned forward a few inches. It felt like a magnet was pulling me toward him, but something held me back and it took a moment for my sluggish brain to realize what that was.
Ryker.
Guilt hit and hit hard. I jerked back from Parker’s touch, my hand flying for the door handle. In my haste to get out, I nearly fell on my face in the parking lot.
“Hey, slow down. I’ll help you,” Parker said.
“I’m fine. I just didn’t expect the, uh, door to, uh, open that quick.” Gee? What did you think it’d do when you pulled the handle? Good lord, I was spouting inane bullshit, but he was already rounding the car to my side.
“Here, let me take your purse,” he said, lifting the strap from my shoulder. “Lean on me.”
No, no, no. Bad idea.
“I’m okay,” I insisted, heading for the door to the building. And it would have been a good exit, if my vision wasn’t blurry and I missed the door handle by a mile when I reached for it. I heard a soft chuckle behind me.
“Yes, I can see you’re perfectly capable when you’re drugged up,” he said, reaching around me to pull open the door.
I chose not to dignify that with an answer, and not because I had to concentrate too hard on where I put my feet as I walked down the hall to be able to form a coherent reply.
There were two sets of elevator buttons when I knew for a fact there should be only one. I hoped I was picking the real and not the ghost illusion when I pressed the button, and I let out a relieved huff of breath when I saw the correct circle light up.
“See?” I said, leaning against the wall. “I’m fi—” The wall moved and I lost my balance, toppling back into the elevator as the doors opened. Huh. I’d thought for sure that had been a wall …
Parker snagged me around the waist before I could fall, then helped me into the elevator the correct way … on one’s feet.
“My, what fast reflexes you have, Mr. Anderson,” I said, the words just popping out. I frowned. It seemed the medicine was not only making me groggy and see double, but had messed with the filter between my brain and mouth.
“Now that’s one I haven’t heard before,” he said, helping me out of the elevator. His arm was still around my waist and I wanted to move away, but I also didn’t want to end up on my ass.
“Comments about his speed usually aren’t something a man wants to hear from a woman,” he quipped.
I let out a very unladylike snort at the joke, then tried to swallow my laughter. Parker had just made a sex joke. This day was just full of firsts. The first time Parker made a sex joke, the first time I’d been high on painkillers around my boss, the first time I’d nearly gotten run over by a truck …