I had no choice but to find out.
“Logistics,” I agreed quietly.
He grinned. “All right, so, you like cheese on your eggs?”
“Yeah, I like cheese on my eggs,” I agreed, the quiet acknowledgement meaning so much more.
“When do you work next?” he asked as we dug into the delicious breakfast he’d made after I’d fixed a cup of coffee where the spoon didn’t stand straight up.
“Tomorrow, but I’ll call in. I haven’t ever done that.” I shrugged, thinking how nice it would be to avoid Valerie and her idiot son for another day.
“That asshole harass you often?” he demanded over the rim of his coffee mug as though reading my mind.
“Not lately,” I muttered.
His brows rose. “Not lately?” he demanded darkly. “Your brother and your pop know about him?”
“No,” I clipped. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” I demanded in frustration.
He eyed me steadily. “I don’t think anyone that’s known you more than a few minutes would doubt that. It’s the difference of knowing you can take care of yourself and thinking you shouldn’t ever have to.” He reached across the table to cup my face in his large hand. “And, for the record, I fall into the second camp, in case that wasn’t clear,” he murmured, picking up his coffee mug. “Think most everybody that knows you likely does.”
Stunned into silence, I sipped my coffee and finished up breakfast.
“Do you want to shower?” I offered after I’d cleared my plate.
His brow rose. “That a hint?”
I blushed. “Not at all, I just thought… and you’re teasing me.” I sighed.
He chuckled. “Yep. And I’ll be doin’ it more if it means it gets that gorgeous blush on your cheeks. But yeah, babe, truth be told, I’d love a shower.”
“Are you supposed to get your wound wet? Where are your discharge instructions from the hospital?”
He shrugged. “Don’t have any. The minute I was up and around, I had a woman to chase.”
I groaned. “Well, it’s a good thing I have quite a few nurses on my speed dial.”
And I knew which one would give me the least amount of a headache. And that would still equate to a migraine.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re asking me how to take care of Ruston fucking King since he’s about to take a shower in your house?” Emmie demanded as I held the phone away from my ear at her screech, hoping like hell Ruston couldn’t hear.
His smirk proved he absolutely could.
“Em, your advice?” I prodded.
“You’re interrupting my honeymoon and won’t even give me details? Some best friend you are,” she huffed without ire. “I can’t believe the man didn’t get discharge papers. He’ll fit right in with our stubborn lot,” she muttered, no doubt referring to her new husband. “The bullet wound itself should be largely healed by now. It was the infection that was of larger concern. Does he still have stitches?”
“Do you still have stitches?” I repeated, my eyes on Ruston.
He shook his head. “Dissolved already.”
“Dissolved,” I told her.
“He should be good to go then. I’d check the area for redness or swelling. But more importantly, monitor him for fever, loss of appetite, lethargy. He shouldn’t be out of the hospital already. I have a sneaking suspicion of what caused him to go AWOL.”
“Thank you for your consultation,” I muttered dryly. “Now, get back to your honeymoon.”
“Gee thanks,nowI can get back to my honeymoon.” She laughed. “Love you, Gracie.”
