Page 34 of Married to the Enemy

“Summer.”

She pursed her lips. “Boring. Try harder.”

He smirked. “That’s the game. Don’t like it, don’t play.”

She squirmed in her chair and Raffe imagined her doing that on his lap. He clenched his teeth against the image.

“Oh, no, I’m not quitting. I’m upping the stakes.” Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Okay… defenestration.”

He blinked. “The hell?”

Her grin turned sly. “It’s an old word. Means to throw someone out a window. Came across it in a story once.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then barked a short laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Only if there’s a window nearby,” she quipped.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Fine. My turn. Carburetor.”

“I can’t come up with a one word reply for an air and fuel mixing system,” she replied immediately.

His head snapped toward her. “How the hell do you know what a carburetor does?”

“I worked part-time at a garage in Switzerland,” she explained breezily. “Needed money for a new camera lens. I learned how to clean spark plugs, too.”

Raffe shook his head, still grinning despite himself. “Alright, Miss Fancy Pants. Timing belt.”

“Again, you’re not giving me one word, so I can’t reply with one-word answers. However, a timing belt synchronizes the camshaft and crankshaft rotation.” She smirked. “Try again.”

He narrowed his eyes, rifling through his vocabulary for something she couldn’t possibly know. “Miranda.”

Her brow furrowed. “Miranda what?”

His stomach jolted. Damn it, too close. He covered quickly. “You know, Miranda… like from Shakespeare.”

“Oh.” Her expression cleared. “The Tempest.” Then she gave him a smug look. “Thought you were trying to sneak in something clever?”

He let out his breath and looked away. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He was about to offer another term—one that could have tipped his hand as law enforcement—when the doors opened.

The doctor appeared, still in her scrubs, peeling off her fabric cap as she approached. A big smile spread across her face. Mia and Raffe immediately stood up, both of them waiting eagerly for news.

“You’ll be happy to know Freddy’s surgery went extremely well,” she announced, her voice carrying across the waiting room. “It will be a long, tough recovery, but I’m confident that, because of his age, and because of the angle of the break, that he’ll be able to make a full recovery. He may not play professional football, but he won’t need a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

The knot in Raffe’s chest loosened so suddenly he almost dropped back into his chair. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been bracing until the relief washed over him like a tidal wave.

Beside him, Mia’s eyes filled with tears, her hand flying to her mouth.

Raffe didn’t think—he just acted. He reached out, catching Mia by the arm and pulling her into his arms. She let out a small gasp, but then her arms slid around his waist and she held on just as tightly.

For a long moment, they stood like that, wrapped up in relief, clinging to each other as if they could both finally breathe again. The world outside the hug didn’t exist. Freddy was safe. They weren’t alone.

It wasn’t until the heat of her cheek against his chest, the warmth of her breath feathering through his shirt, and the pounding of his own heart made him too aware of what he was doing. She must have felt it too, because they pulled back almost at the same time, each avoiding the other’s gaze.

Just then, the door swung open.

Evangeline wheeled in with four steaming cups balanced on a tray in her lap, Jenny right behind her, pushing the wheelchair. They’d paused briefly as they caught sight of Mia and Raffe’s hug, but then Jenny pushed the wheelchair further into the room. Both women were beaming triumphantly.