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“This isn’t a heart transplant, Torres. You keep the pretty lady calm. Rio and I will handle the medical stuff.” Amusement filled the medic’s voice.
His cheeks burned. “She’s already uncomfortable enough. I don’t want her to hurt more.”
“I’m all right, Rafe,” she said.
“We’ll give it another minute,” Rio said, his tone mild. “The tracker won’t take long to remove, Kristi.”
“Good. I want it out of my back as soon as possible.”
Rafe squeezed her hand again. “A few more minutes. Tell Rio and Jackson the story about your father and the bridal show.”
“Sounds like a good story,” Rio said.
Kristi laughed, the sound of her laughter doing odd things to Rafe’s heart again. “I loved the outing. My father didn’t.” She relayed the story of the bridal show to the men. The medics chuckled.
“What inspired you to ask to attend the show for your birthday?” Jackson asked.
“I was interested in wedding dresses as a teenager. Not the normal dreaming of marrying a dark, handsome prince someday. I dreamed of designing and making the dresses. I studied the designs, figured out what I liked and didn’t like, then tried to come up with designs of my own. My first attempts were so embarrassing. I made the dresses for myself and three of my friends. My dresses were horrendous. I was all about the design, not the body wearing the dress. The women in the fabric shop didn’t know what to make of me buying yards and yards of fabric meant for wedding dresses or bridesmaids’ dresses. Don’t even ask how much money I spent on the fabric, lace, accents, and notions. I’d be embarrassed to admit the truth.”
She sighed. “It was a glorious time of learning. By the end of my first year, I was doing a better job of matching body type with dress style. I also began designing my own clothes during that year. By the second year, my friends were asking me to make clothes for them. When I graduated from high school, I already knew I wanted to own a bridal shop. I never wavered from that goal.”
“Your father must be proud of you,” Rio said.
“He is although he’s baffled about why I chose to specialize in wedding dresses when I could have designed all kinds of clothes. That’s where my heart is, though.”
“Do you still design your own clothes?”
“I don’t have much time to do that these days. Kristi’s Bridal is growing so fast I haven’t had time for a vacation in four years.”
Rafe frowned. “You need a break once in a while.”
Jackson snorted. “Pot calling the kettle black, buddy.”
“Zip it,” he snapped.
“Just saying.”
So what if Rafe hadn’t taken a break since leaving the military? He’d been searching for Callie’s killers. The two-week break from Fortress was long overdue. If he hadn’t requested time off, Brent would have insisted he take a vacation soon. Capturing Callie’s killers had gutted him all over again. Perhaps he’d heal after he ensured Kristi was safe.
A moment later, Rio said, “The tracker’s out. Give us a minute, then you can sit up.”
Rafe squeezed Kristi’s hand again. “Doing okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sounded breathless.
“Doesn’t sound like it. What’s wrong?”
“Lying on my stomach is painful with bruised ribs.”
“All set,” Jackson said. “Rafe, you can open your eyes now.”
He saw Kristi struggling to get up. “Wait.” Rafe released her hand. “Roll toward me. I’ll scoop you up and set you on your feet. Should be easier on your ribs.”
After Kristi rolled into Rafe’s arms, he eased her to the floor. “Better?”
“Much. Thanks.”
“If the incision bothers you, let me know,” Jackson said.
