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Laura watched his eyelids flutter open. “Tori?”
The doctor’s smile was breathtaking. “You know it, Ranger.”
“Cash?” he whispered
“I only got here a week ago.”
Rafe frowned like he had something else to say, but his eyes fluttered shut again.
“Shit,” the doctor cursed.
“Get him a head CT and mannitol to stabilize.”
The nurses rushed around to do what she’d asked, and he was whisked out the door in minutes. Laura stared after him, but the doctor remained, watching her.
“How do you know Sunny?”
“He’s my fiancé,” she said without hesitation.
She quirked an eyebrow at her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” the doctor said. “I’ll update you as soon as I know anything.”
The woman stopped at the door of the room and turned to look at her. “Where’s your ring?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sunny would never propose to a woman without a ring. He’s too old-fashioned for that.”
Then she walked out, leaving Laura gaping after her.
* * *
Sunny becameaware of what was going on in tiny increments. The first thing he registered was a feather-light touch on his forehead, then a hand on his shoulder and a mumbled, “God, I hope it’s not more than a bumped head.”
Then he groaned because the light, even behind closed eyelids, was too much. His head throbbed and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Where the hell was he and what the hell had happened?
The light softened, and a hand gripped his.
“Try to stay calm, Rafe. You’re safe.”
Who was that? Not one of his team, that was for sure. “The doctor said she’d be back soon. She’s checking on your scans.”
He turned toward her voice, but something blocked him. “No, don’t move. It’s me, Laura.”
Laura. Sunny forced his eyes open, and her face hovered above his, a frown of worry etched on her features. The cute spray of freckles that had captivated him from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her across her cheekbones and nose.
His mouth twitched into an almost smile.
“Freckles,” he whispered, or tried to, but he knew his mouth didn’t move enough.
She touched his cheek, then inserted a straw between his lips. He drew on it, delighted to find ice water, but when she pulled it away, he tried to protest.
“Slow,” she said, her voice firm.
The straw came back, and he took a slow drink.
