Page 17 of Iron Will

“This isn’t a break room,” I explain. “Hospital staff aren’t supposed to be in here unless they’re using the room to talk with patients or their families.”

The room itself is sparsely furnished and painted in warm tones, with a sink, microwave, a single-serve coffee maker, and stacks of paper beverage cups. I close the door so we won’t be disturbed. When I turn back to Rourke, I see his mouth curve into a smirk.

“You don’t waste any time,” he chuckles. “If you wanted to jump my bones, you could’ve just asked.”

I start to protest, feeling my face begin to flush. But then I see the glint in his eye and realize he’s joking.Probably.

“Look,” I start, pretending to ignore his words. “I know what you’re trying to do. But you can’t. It’s against hospital policy.”

“Against hospital policy for my brothers to visit Bear?” he asks innocently.

I sigh. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t pretend. Not with me.” I take a deep breath, hesitating, and then let it out. “I know we’re both worried about Paisley. And I get that you’re trying to protect her. But the hospital isn’t going to let your club stand guard outside her room twenty-four seven.”

“Don’t need to do it twenty-four seven,” he counters. “Just during visiting hours.”

“Rourke…”

My voice trails off, because I don’t know what to say. His gaze jumps to mine, and I realize I’ve never actually called him by his first name before. Here in this room, alone just the two us, the word feels intimate, hanging there between us. Almost like I’ve somehow crossed an invisible line that was keeping us on opposite sides of this problem.

I really should be doing a better job of keeping my professional bearing with him. But every time I try, he cuts right through it. As though he knows it’s B.S. Fundamentally, there’s something about Rourke that makes me feel utterly without defenses.

My stomach is fluttering nervously. I can’t figure out why it is that he has this much of an effect on me. And worse, I can’t decide whether I hate it or not.

For a long moment Rourke’s eyes linger on my face, dark and penetrating. I realize I haven’t said anything since calling him by his name. I try to look away, but it’s as though he’s pinned me like a butterfly. My heart begins to speed up and thud in my chest.

Finally, I manage to break his gaze.

“You’re good with her,” I say softly, looking down.

“I had a little sister growing up,” he replies, a touch gruffly. “I ain’t that great with kids, but I had to babysit her a fair amount. I guess it comes back to you.”

Rourke has a little sister. It’s a strange concept to wrap my head around. Somehow, he doesn’t seem like someone who has a family — or even a childhood. It’s almost like he born just like this: Rugged. Hard. All man.

“How long you gonna keep her here?” Rourke asks. His deep baritone is almost like a caress — low and intimate. My body reacts almost viscerally to it. I find myself struggling against a growing attraction to this man that I barely know. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me want to push away all the layers of our respective existences that are separating us right now. The very layers that are protecting me from something I should probably be a lot more afraid of than I am.

And that in itself shakes me.

Instinctively, I retreat into the persona I use whenever need to reestablish a professional distance here at work. “That’s not information I can give out to someone who’s not a member of the family,” I begin.

But then, I stop, suddenly hating the officious tone I’m taking with him.

I risk a look at him and see that he’s scowling. He sees exactly what I’m doing. Suddenly, I’m a little ashamed of myself. I blow out a breath and try again.

“Look, I’m sorry. But…” I continue, biting my lip. “I’m doing my best to make sure that Paisley is going to be safe when she leaves here. I promise you that.”

“You’re worried about her, too,” he says. Almost imperceptibly, his eyes lose a little of their hardness.

“Yes. I am.” I think back to the bruise on Paisley’s arm. The one I still haven’t managed to talk to Bethany about yet.

“I’m doin’ something about it while she’s here,” Rourke continues. “But what about when she goes home? Her mom’s asshole boyfriend will still be there. You can’t protect her then.” His jaw sets, and he points a thumb to his chest. “But I can.”

“Rourke, what are you —” I begin, but a commotion outside stops me.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, and pulls open the door.