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“But you don’t know for sure about last night.” Those blue eyes nailed him. “Do you?”
“No.” Mitch took her plate and caught her gaze. She gave him a thumbs-up. “I went to talk to him after you”—Mitch cleared his throat—“closed the door in my face.”
“I thought we’d finished our discussion.”
He should have ended it way earlier, anyway. “You looked exhausted.”
She made a face. “I thought I covered that up. I’ll have to be more careful, but no question, I appreciated the offer of your bed.”
“Maybe next time you’ll feel like sharing it.”
“In your dreams.”
“Precisely.” Gawd. Cath Hurley didn’t need to know this.
She stared at the entrance into the hall, apparently unaware of the last thing he’d said. “Your brother didn’t say a thing, but I wanted him to know he could talk with me. If he wanted.”
“He told me he hears voices in the higher ranges better than the lower ones. This morning he probably hasn’t had enough coffee.” Mitch stared at the doorway too. Was Kurt just putting on a good show for the rest of them? Did he miss more than any of them realized?
“Some people are morning people and some aren’t.” She shrugged.
He slotted the dish into the dishwasher. “What am I?”
“No question. You’re so morning you’re almost midnight.”
Mitch set the wash cycle and quelled the heat rising in his blood. Their being together in the middle of the night would have to be in a science-fiction universe. Not the present one. “There’s a coat Aunt Edi says you can borrow on the newel post. Meet me outside.”
* * *
Mitch leaned across the cab to open the passenger door and waited for Cath to climb inside. She lifted a leg and flinched. Last night she’d had this same problem at the cleaners but had eventually hopped inside. “Having trouble?”
“No.” She gripped the inside door handle and tried again before sinking back to the ground, pain flashing across her face. She rubbed her thigh.
He gripped the wheel, one hand moving to the ignition key. “We need to move.”
“I’m working on it. I pulled a muscle running to the fire last night.” She tossed her purse inside and grabbed the door armrest. “Give me a minute.”
She hoisted a leg, her knuckles going white as she strained to haul herself up before falling to the ground.
“I’ll help if you ask. Kindly.”
She shook her head. “I hate to ask.”
“I’ll still respect you in the morning.” Were they going to waste all morning getting her into his truck?
“This isn’t funny.” She tried again to climb in and again failed. “Can you give me a hand, please?”
Pretend she’s a sack of potatoes. This was not Rhett carrying Scarlett up the stairs. Mitch went around to her side and encircled her waist with an arm. Heave ho!
He scooped her up and settled her in the cab. She sat there as if stunned, her face flushed. “You okay?”
“Needed a minute to catch my breath.” She reached for the door handle. “Thanks.”
He closed her door and climbed behind the wheel again. She’d lifted her collar against the cold, but he could easily unbutton her coat, reveal her slender neck where he would trail—Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his pulse to calm.
You don’t hump your teammate. You work with her.
She faced him, her fingers still gripping the unfastened belt strap. “I know I just allowed you to help me into the cab, but from now don’t put your hands on me.”
