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“Tired. Sore.”
“That’s to be expected. And I’m sorry, but I’m about to add to that.”
He wasn’t kidding. By the time the man completed his examination and left, Joel could barely keep his eyes open. Sounded like he was definitely going to live, but he’d have to sleep first. He’d rather talk to Brittany.
As if she understood, she reached to brush his hair from his forehead and ordered, “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And she was.
The sun was setting when he opened his eyes to see her dozing in the chair his father had occupied earlier. He watched her for a few minutes, then groped for the button to raise the head of the bed to a bit more of a sitting position. The noise woke her, and she smiled when she saw he was awake.
“Hey.”
The darn heart monitor increased speed. No way to hide his anxiety, so he ignored it and dove right in. “I know you were here last night.”
Awareness shimmered to life in her eyes as she got out of the chair. “I was. All night.”
“And I woke up.”
“Once.”
She was killing him with her short answers. He lifted his hand out of the way as she sat on the edge of his bed, then set it back down to rest on her leg. She covered his hand with hers—
“Mr. Morgan, are you doing okay?”
He laid his head back, frowning in the direction of the nurse hovering in the doorway. “I’d be better if you could take this thing off me.” He gestured toward the monitor as the woman entered the room. “I can pretty much guarantee it’s not going to stay normal for the next couple minutes.”
She glanced between the two of them with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but that’s not possible.”
As his frown deepened, Brittany squeezed his fingers. “Last night the nurse turned the sound off. Can you at least do that?”
The woman nodded and reached to flip a switch on the machine, silencing the elevated beeps. She took a moment to review a few other readouts, then faced them with a stern warning. “Just remember, you are still in intensive care and we are monitoring everything from the nurse’s station.”
Once she left, Joel shifted his attention back to Brittany, who sat silent. Smiling.
He did not smile as he picked up right where he’d been interrupted, his nervousness suddenly gone. “You said something to me last night.”
“Yes.”
He turned his hand to twine their fingers together. “Are you going to say it again?”
“Do you want me to?”
The teasing note in her voice made him tug her closer. “Every day. And I’ll say it right back—I love you, Brittany.”
Tears filled her eyes. “And I love you.”
Now he smiled. “I know.”
She laughed and leaned in to press her lips to his. He wanted to kiss her back, but the whole hospital bed and wires and getting shot really put a crimp in his ability to kiss her the way a man should kiss the woman he loved. On top of that, the chaste brush of her lips only left him wanting more.
When he protested, she argued, “Relax. I can’t tire you out five minutes after you wake up. We’ll have plenty of time when you’re feeling better.”
He leaned his head back on the pillow, happier than he’d ever been in his life. After a moment, he realized while they would have plenty of time, he still had questions he wanted answered sooner rather than later.
Rolling his head in her direction, he asked, “Remember that night we first met? When I called you a city girl?”
“Oh, I remember. You said it as if there was something wrong with me.”
