“I ran an unscheduled reboot.”
“Yeah,” he said with a huffed laugh, shifting me as he got to the top of the stairs to flip on the lights.
I nodded against his shoulder and took in a deep but very subtle inhale.
“Did you just sniff me?” he asked.
“I’m weak. Confused. Who are you? Where am I?”
His low chuckle rumbled through me.
“Here, I’m gonna set you down and examine you now,” he explained.
We were in what looked like a large bathroom or a mini locker room. There were two shower stalls on one end, a large mirror with four sinks, some lockers, and a couple of benches. It smelled like men, deodorant, and testosterone.
I let myself be examined by Pace. He had a small kit filled with various medical equipment. He carefully explained each thing he did before he did it. Answered any questions I had with soothing patience. He checked my pulse and investigated my pupils. He gently cleaned the blood from my face.
Once again, I was awed by his smooth competence.
I was close enough again to see his secret freckles—mysecret freckles. I had formed an attachment to Pace that felt more special than the hundreds of loose acquaintances in town who knew and loved him. How many people had seen his secret freckles? Or knew his ears turned red when he was bashful? Or that when he got angry, his lack of a smile made him look like a different person altogether? It was so rare, I couldn’t imagine there were many.
“Can this count as the doctor’s appointment on my list?” I asked. Just so I would stop staring at him. It was making me want to lean forward and smell him again.
“I don’t think it counts, unfortunately. I have EMT training, and you didn’t make an appointment.”
“Boo,” I said with a deep frown, then said, “Ouch,” and brought my hand to my mouth.
His face grew serious in an instant. “Let me look,” he said, and I dropped my hands.
“You cut your lip,” he said, gently pushing my upper lip to look at the underside.
I winced slightly as the healing skin tugged. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Soph.” He said it so softly, his head down, looking in his bag.
“I’m okay,” I said, humiliated by his pity.
I wanted to go back to when he had been laughing with me. Was that flirting? Was there any chance in hell he was interested in me? It used to feel like an impossible dream, but I began to hope that maybe those lingering looks of his meant more.
He hadn’t asked for any explanation for what happened yet. If I were him, I’d be dying to know how someone trying to withdraw cash looked like they got in a minor car accident.
“I’m going to step out and guard the door. Those guys are usually decent. I don’t know why they were acting as if they had never seen a pretty girl before.” I flustered under his words, even though the last part was mostly mumbled to himself. “If you want, uh, there’s a shirt in my locker. Jones is actually legit at stain removal if you want him to try to save your sweater. But probably better sooner than later.”
“You don’t have to go.” Though I secretly wished for an excuse to wear his shirt. “I have a shirt on under this.” I tugged the hem of my sweater up and over my head without waiting for a response. It was rather bold of me, but I felt safe with him.
Pace went silent. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared at my breasts blatantly. It was shockingly ungentlemanly of him, totally out of character for this small-town good guy.
There was none of the shame I normally carried about my full breasts. Instead, the heat in his gaze made me feel powerful and tingly.
I pressed my fingertips to the exposed skin above the top, wondering if he would follow my action. I was worried I had a nipple peeking out. But no. Sure enough, the girls were threatening to spill over the tight undershirt, but there was no additional nippage.
With my movement, Pace looked up and away, blinking to himself. “Sorry. Shit. I just wasn’t—sorry,” he repeated with finality. No trying to deny it.
“I should’ve warned you. Boob alert.” I used to hide a lot of my curves under oversized clothes because when you were a full-figured woman, even the most conservative outfits had you feeling like a Jessica Rabbit–type vixen.
“You’d think I’d never seen them before.” He huffed a forced, jovial laugh, getting back to business and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. The tips of his ears were bright red. His voice was light, but there was a flush spreading up his neck, starting at his collar. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and then flinched because,ouch. Split lip.
“Your blood pressure is higher than I would have thought. But it’s okay,” he said. He put his fingers to my neck again to check my pulse. “Heart rate is high too.” His frown deepened.
