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Although Toni probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing such thoughts before they were even officially a couple.
“Holy crap, Lawrence. What the hell happened? How could you possibly have gotten injured?”
Definitely awake.
He’d suspected as much upon seeing the light glowing from the front room. But nothing could prepare him for the sight of her sitting cross-legged on the floor, a green flowy skirt pooling around her.
“I allowed it,” he said, answering her question. “There’s a legend,” he continued, moving toward her, “in my country of a fairy who lives near the village of Carbost, in Glen Brittle, a large glen on the Isle of Skye. I’ve always imagined what she might look like.” He knelt down beside her. “And now I wonder if her hair isn’t a mass of red as she sits, like this, waiting for unsuspecting visitors to enchant.”
He didn’t know, or care, why she sat on the floor. Lawrence just needed to be close to her.
“That’s all very lovely,” she said, “but are you going to tell me why it looks like someone punched you in the face?”
It would have looked worse if he’d not already begun to heal, but Lawrence kept that to himself.
“Likely because I got punched in the face.”
Her hand reached up to his cheek, her thumb wiping away what he imagined was blood.
“By who?”
“Tyler.”
Her hand stopped its ministrations.
“Seriously?”
He smiled. Lawrence couldn’t help it.
“Seriously. He looks worse, but he had it coming.”
She dropped her hand and cocked her head to the side, studying him. “It looks better now than it did a moment ago. I know your wounds heal at an accelerated rate, but what determines how quickly it happens?”
Lawrence stood from the awkward position. “The severity of the wound, usually. When I’ve last fed. Nothing else to say? You’re not pissed—”
“You punched him back, right?”
He laughed. “Of course I did. And he’ll go on to ruin someone else’s day tomorrow, although I don’t know who, exactly, will benefit from his presence. But in any case—”
“Then why would I be pissed? The guy is a total douche.”
God, I love this woman.
The thought flashed through his mind as quickly as a bolt of lightning, but there was no denying it. It was true.
He knew better than most men what it meant to love someone. To want to be with them as much, or more, than you wanted to be with yourself. To picture their habits, like Toni’s constant turning of the hairband on her wrist, even when you weren’t together. He’d fallen in love with her well before he should have, and denying it was as useless as wishing he could see his home in Scotland once again. Some things just were.
“In that case,” He grasped her hand. “I’m doubly glad for it. Although I suspect I won’t be allowed to take any more of your shifts after tonight.”
She wove her fingers through his own and let him pull her up.
“I did wait until he was leaving, but I assume word will spread.”
Toni shrugged. “I’ve been thinking of quitting anyway.”
“Good,” he said, hating the idea of her having to come into contact with that douche,as she’d so aptly called him.
“But to be honest, I don’t really want to talk about Tyler right now.” She squeezed back when his hand tightened around hers.
“Then what do you wish to discuss, Miss O’Neill?”
Closing the distance between them, Toni tilted her head up to look directly at him.
“Nothing,” she said, her smile anything but coy. “I don’t want to discuss a damn thing at this moment, Mr. Derrickson. Or should I call you chief? I’m not sure exactly what your title is—”
He cut her off with a kiss.
