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“You’re a surly patient,” I told her.

With the most beautiful pair of doe brown eyes I’ve ever seen.

Somehow I managed not to say that part.

I ignored her grumbling while I held her in place and squirted a dollop of Neosporin on the cut before slapping the bandage over it. I expected her to knee me in the nuts as soon as she was freed, but instead, I looked up to find her smiling.

“What?” I asked defensively.

“You catch your tongue between your teeth when you’re working sometimes. It’s almost cute.”

The back of my neck heated. What the hell? I’d had women objectify me in a hundred ways, and this one could render me mute with just a few words.

“Yeah, well, you probably snore.”

I didn’t know why I said it. But I definitely didn’t expect her to laugh.

“The opposite, actually. I’ve had people check to see if I’m still breathing because I’m so quiet.”

I pocketed the tube of cream, dumped the bandage wrapper in the garbage, and then hung the towel to dry. “Since I can’t confirm or deny that one, I’ll just say you should get some smaller scissors.”

“That’s my kitchen pair.” She glanced toward the remnants of destruction on the island and scattered on the floor. “You’re not curious?”

“I’m curious about many things.”

How your lips would taste, for one.

“Thor, you’re really annoying sometimes, you know that?” She didn’t give me time to answer before marching over to the island and gathering up half of what I saw now was a photo. “That’s my brother, Cohen.” She jabbed her finger at his smiling face, his forehead partially shadowed by his shock of dark hair. “He’s the one who got hurt and fucked up my life.” She closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I love the jerk. I just didn’t intend for all of…this. Didn’t plan on it. Didn’t need it.”

“All of what?” I asked gently.

“The other guy in the photo,” she gestured to the floor where the other pieces had fluttered, “was my brother’s best friend. He died in the same accident where my brother got hurt.”

“And you hate him.”

“How do you know?”

Didn’t deny it. Hmm. “Taking a blade to a dead man’s face is usually a pretty strong clue.”

She stunned me by laughing, and then I returned the favor by drawing her into my arms for a hug. She went stock still, not moving, not breathing, until I skimmed a hand down her rigid spine and urged her in against my chest.

I almost thought she’d shatter before she’d bend but she folded against me with something that sounded suspiciously like relief.

Or grief. It bothered me I didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell the difference.

“That’s a girl.” I rubbed her back in even strokes as she trembled against me.

She wasn’t crying, though I’d worried for an instant that she was. No, her eyes were dry and remained wide open and on mine. She wasn’t much shorter than I was and fit so well in my arms that I knew this had been a mistake.

It was always so much harder to forget the forbidden once you’d had a taste.

“What did he do?” I asked once her shudders had subsided.

“I trusted him so I showed him my designs for my first fabricator.”

I braced against what she’d say next.

“And?”

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