Page 32

She had to think about that. "To be honest, medicine is about eighty percent of my life."

"What do you do the other twenty percent?"

"I like to read. Nonfiction medical journals are my favorite."

"Of course," he said dryly.

"But I also like fiction, and I love cookbooks with lots of photographs."

"Can't you get recipes online?"

"Yes. But there's something about a big, thick book filled with pictures that makes me feel more like cooking."

"What else?"

"The occasional fitness class or morning run. I'm kind of boring, Tyler."

He smiled back at her. "That's not been my impression of you."

"Well, that's because we've spent most of our brief time together fighting about something."

"Your eyes fill with blue fire when you get angry," he murmured. "It makes it difficult to look away."

She felt self-conscious with that comment. "Blue fire, huh? Now, I'm starting to think you are concussed."

He grinned. "You don't like to talk about yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not that interesting. I've spent the last thirteen years training to become a doctor. Then there was residency and service overseas. I've never had much time to do anything else or develop other hobbies. But I have thought recently that pickleball looks fun."

He gave her a weak smile. "You'd probably be good. You're competitive."

"I do like to win," she admitted.

He let out a weary sigh. "I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

"Okay, but I'm going to wake you up in two hours just to make sure you're still good," she said, watching him closely as he stood up. He didn't seem to be dizzy anymore, but she was still concerned.

"You're one of the most stubborn women I've ever met," he muttered.

"And you're one of the most stubborn men," she retorted, setting her watch as he left the room.

Once he was gone, she wondered what she would do for the next two hours. After debating several options, she headed for the kitchen to see what Tyler had in his fridge. Cooking had always been her escape, and with her mind whirling from questions, and her nerves taut from the attack in the garage, she needed a distraction. She just hoped she could find more than cereal in his cupboards.

Chapter Nine

Tyler woke up to the smell of something delicious, and it took a moment for him to realize that the aroma was coming from his kitchen. He glanced at his clock and saw it was just before six p.m., and the room had grown dark. Rachel hadn't woken him up, so he must have slept for less than two hours, but it was probably close. The pain in his head was not as intense as before, but the bump was still palpable and tender to the touch.

He was pissed that he hadn't seen the attack coming. But he hadn't even known there was a storage room in the garage until they'd entered and hadn't thought twice about someone being in there going through Jack's things. Whoever had booby-trapped Jack's apartment must not have realized there was a locker in the garage until after the bombing. They had to have come back to look for something, but he didn't know what.

None of it made sense, and just thinking about it had increased the pain in his head.

The door to his room slowly opened, and he sat up, thankful that the movement came with slightly more pain but no dizziness.

"You're awake," Rachel said, moving across the room. She opened the curtains to bring in more light. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone hit me over the head."

"Do you still know your name?"