Page 143 of Capturing You

She flinched, but this couldn’t hurt. “You strike me as the type to wear multicolored sneakers.”

A beat passed. Then she said, “I like bright colors, but come on. Those are garish.”

He managed to roll the top edge of her sock over. “When you get older, I see you in bright purple pants. Not jeans, but those polyester things with elastic waistbands.”

“Not a chance.”

He rolled the sock gently over the swollen skin, feeling heat coming from her wound, her muscles tensed as she worked to stay still. “And sparkly jackets,” he added, “like with those little round…things.”

“Sequins?” she squeaked. “You think I’ll wear sequins?”

“And felt hats. You’re definitely the felt-hat type. With feathers, just for the fun of it.” He rolled the sock over her heel. “Or those weird topless visors.”

Maybe her hair would still be long in thirty years, streaked with gray. She’d be gorgeous. Her smile lines would be permanent proof of a happy life.

Gently, gently, he rolled the sock to the end of her foot and pulled it off.

He turned to her, finding her much closer than he’d imagined. So close that, if he leaned forward, he could press a kiss to those perfect lips.

He swallowed and backed up, lifting her sock like a prize. Then, to make her smile, he swooned as if the scent were getting to him. “I think I might pass out.”

“Shut up.” But she laughed. Then, her head tilted to the side. “You’re pretty good at the nursing thing.”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

Her smile was tender. She studied him as if he were a puzzle she wanted to solve. “Thank you, Forbes.”

He grunted, sounding like a Neanderthal.

He needed to do something besides stare at her.

He filled a zipper bag with ice, then put a bottle of ibuprofen in his front pocket. He shoved a kitchen towel in his back pocket. “We’ll wrap it after you ice it for a while. Do you need anything else?”

“Crutches?”

A smile tugged his lips up.

This woman, in the middle of all the chaos and craziness, could still make him smile.

He loved that about her.

The thought sent the irrational joy invading his rational mind running for cover. He loved a lot of things about Brooklynn, but none of that mattered. He’d lied to her. She didn’t trust him, and even if she managed to forgive him, both of their lives were in danger.

There was no room for the wild emotions that had his thoughts bopping around like they were trapped in a pinball machine.

He handed her the ice pack. “If you’ll hold that… Is it okay if I carry you upstairs now?” He asked as if she had a choice, which she didn’t.

“I’ll allow it.” Straightening, she nodded in a dignified manner, which was…very cute.

This time, she came willingly into his arms, and he enjoyed every moment of closeness as he carried her from the kitchen to the second-floor family room.

He settled her on the couch, then propped her ankle on pillows. “You comfortable?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

He took the bag of ice, wrapped it in the towel, and laid it on her ankle.

At the moment of contact, she sucked air through her teeth.