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She shrugs. “Who likes returning to a messy house?”
“Anna, you didn’t have to—”
“If you tell me I don’t have to help you one more time, I’ll...” Her cute nose wrinkles as she trails off at a loss.
“You’ll what?” I tease. “Punch me? Knee me in the balls?”
An auburn brow rises, as she looks me over, her gaze stopping at my chest. “Give you a purple nurple.”
I grin, but my chest grows hot. Christ, the idea of Anna pinching my nipple is getting me off. “As long as I get to return the favor, Jones.”
Just as I’d hoped, she blushes. “Perv.”
“I prefer egalitarian lecher.” I thump further into the room and set aside my crutches before plopping on the couch. The padded leather gives around me, a familiar comfort that I sink into.
I expected Anna to follow; she’s been hovering over me like she was afraid I’d topple. But she’s still standing by the door and looking at me with a strange expression, her mouth tilted on a nervous half smile.
“What?” I shift a bit in my seat, hauling up my injured leg to rest it on the chaise.
Now that we’re alone and not distracted by things like hospital monitors, nurses coming and going, and my intense pain, there’s a certain amount of awkwardness between us. She’s broken my heart, and I vowed to stay clear of her. A statement that crumbled like dry sand the second she walked into my hospital room and looked at me as if I was the most important thing in her life. I’ve been waiting months for that look. But it doesn’t erase everything.
“Nothing,” she says, still watching me. “I just missed your humor.”
I’ve missed a lot more from her. “Most people don’t really get my humor.”
And then she smiles full out. “I’d believe that.”
Finally, she comes into the house, closing the door behind her. It’s then I notice the small bag in her hand. She flushes when I spot it.
“I thought maybe I’d...” The flush washes down her neck. “Well, maybe you’d like some company for a while.”
So, she’s unsure as well. I should ask her right now what she expects from me. If she wants what we had before, it will kill me. I can’t go back to that. But she has to know that. And she’s stayed by my side in the hospital when, before, she would have run in the other direction.
The moment stretches, and she shifts from one foot to the other, her expression going pinched and pale, as if she’s afraid I’ll tell her no, tell her to leave now. Not happening.
“I want you, Anna,” I say in a low voice. “I always have. If you want to stay, you must know I’d want that too.”
Her lashes sweep down, hiding her eyes from me as she gives a brisk nod. “That’s what I want.”
The answer is barely above a whisper, but I hear it and my body responds with a burst of warmth and satisfaction.
“Well then...” I don’t know what to say exactly. Get your sweet butt over here and sit in my lap would probably sound too needy, even if that is what I crave. Hell, it’s been over a month since I’ve properly touched her.
Anna, however, has other things on her mind. “You want something to eat?”
Behind the familiar scent of home, something savory and something sweet linger in the air. “Was Gray here?”
She moves into the kitchen. “Figures you’d know it was Gray who cooked. Yeah, he was here too.”
I imagine Anna and Gray in my house together and frown. While doctors were putting me back together, they were going on with life. Neither of their lives has been smashed to pieces. And the difference between them and me is painfully clear.
Unaware of my growing anxiety, she eyes me slantwise. “You should have told me you had a personal chef. I wouldn’t have bothered.”
I twist in my seat to look at her fully. “You cooked for me?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I have before.” She’s scowling now.
“I’m grateful every time, Anna.”
