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Okay, good. At least somebody who knows what they’re doing looked him over before sending his stubborn ass home.
“You could’ve led with that.” I slide my hand down his arm, still watching his face for any other little twitch he thinks he can hide from me.
A mosquito whines past my ear and I swat at it. Sumner catches my hand before I can smack at another one and threads his fingers through mine. “I told you I was fine.”
I give him my most unimpressed look. “You told me you were sore after getting tossed around inside a hurricane, Maverick. That leaves a lot of room for horrifying possibilities.”
His thumb moves over the back of my hand, and the tired smile fades a little. “Okay. I probably could’ve been more specific. I’ll be better next time.”
“Thank you.” I glance toward the open front door behind me as a mosquito buzzes past my ear. “And I’m not even addressing the next time.” I shudder. “Now get your sexy butt inside before the mosquitoes carry me away.”
Sumner reaches down for the duffel bag he dropped onto the porch, but he barely gets his fingers around the strap before he winces, a sharp little intake of breath giving him away.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I grab the other handle before he can pull it up. “Give me that.”
His hand immediately slides down to cover mine, stopping me. “Not a chance.”
I glare up at him. “You’re injured.”
“I’m sore,” he corrects, so it looks like we’re going to keep having this exact argument until one of us dies. His tired eyes drop to my belly. “And you’re eight months pregnant.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, pregnant. Not broken. The door’s right there. I think I can manage it.”
He drops the strap and folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the railing. “Fine.”
I lift my chin, giving him my most confident look, before I grip the strap and give the duffel an experimental tug.
It barely moves. Like, at all.
What the hell does he have in here, bricks?
He coughs out what sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and I narrow my eyes at him.
I try again, but yeah. No. This thing is beyond my capabilities at the moment, even if I hate to admit it. Sumner watches me realize this, and even exhausted and covered in bruises, the smug little smirk and raised eyebrow are uncalled for.
I point a finger at him. “Don’t be a dick.”
His mouth twitches. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Not with words, but you think I don’t know what that expression means?” I gesture to his face.
He huffs out another laugh while I let go of the handle before I embarrass myself further. Then I gesture toward the open front door. “Fine. You can carry the stupid bag. But that is the absolute last thing you’re doing tonight.”
He slowly straightens as he hefts the bag filled with all his gear up onto his shoulder, moving slower and stiffer than I’m used to seeing. “Bossy. I like it.”
I shake my head with a laugh as I step back—waddling out of the way—to let him through the doorway. I keep a hawk-like eye on the way he moves, because even with a doctor clearing him, it’d be just like Sumner to downplay how much pain he’s in. “You’ve spent the last eight months showing me how much I mean to you by taking care of me. Tonight it’s my turn to show you.”
He stops just inside the entryway and looks back over his shoulder at me. His tired smile softens into something so unbearably sweet it hurts a little, and I rub at my chest.
He kisses my temple when he gets close enough and murmurs, “I love you,” against my skin.
Well, dang. There go my eyes burning again.
I quickly shut the door before any more mosquitoes can follow us inside, using it as an excuse to look away. “Yeah, yeah. I love you, too. Now move it.”
I turn to lock the deadbolt so he can’t see what that sweet smile is doing to my face.
The heavy thunk of the metal sliding into place hits me hard.
