Page 37 of Covert Operation
“Thanks to that hole in my shoulder I’m out of commission for a couple weeks.” Zeke easily swipes the tray of meatballs, looking unbothered by his injury even after helping me move all my stuff yesterday.
It makes me wonder.
“Have you been taking your pain medication?”
His eyes move away from me. “Someone gives me shit if I don’t.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Good.” For some reason, knowing I’m the reason he’s not suffering makes me feel better than any amount of independent grocery shopping or box unpacking could. “I would hate to have to pin you down and make you take it.” The second the words are out of my mouth my skin gets very hot in spite of the freezing cold air.
Because it is way too easy to imagine trying to pin Zeke down. I know I couldn’t actually do it, but the thought of trying...
Is intriguing.
Zeke studies me, his brow pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”
I plaster on a smile and nod, the movement jerky. “Yup. Fine.”
I go to take a step, knowing I should probably get away from him before I embarrass myself further by thinking of him in ways I shouldn’t, but the minute my foot hits the next step, I start to skid. Without thinking, I reach out and grab the man who is quickly becoming my main source of support.
Zeke leans closer, standing solid and steady as I regain my balance, latched on to his bicep. Luckily, I’m not standing on his injured side, or I would feel like a complete jerk. Not only would I have been imagining him in less than friendly ways, but then I would have literally added insult to injury by hanging myself off his healing shoulder.
The second I have my feet back under me, I start to let go, but he stops me.
“I think you better hang on, just to be safe.”
I mean, if it’s just to be safe.
I nod again—or maybe I’m still nodding from before. “Yeah. That probably is a good idea.” I do loosen my grip on him—I don’t want to throw him off balance—letting my palm curve over the solid swell of his bicep.
Holy crap is he strong. I know Zeke works out every night, but knowing it and actually touching it are two different things.
And somehow I keep accidentally touching him. At least he has all his clothes on this time.
Slowly, Zeke leads me up the steps, eyes staying on me as we go. We reach the stoop, and he tips his head at the doorbell. “You’re going to have to ring that since my hands are full.”
“Oh.” I totally forgot what we were doing for a second. I quickly poke the glowing button. It’s not until the door starts to open that I realize I still have my arm laced through Zeke’s, and I quickly pull it free. I don’t want to give my sister any more reasons to freak out, and if she saw me holding onto Zeke, she would most certainly freak out. At the very least she would have a million questions, and I don’t want to answer them.
I don’t have to explain the relationship I have with Zeke to anyone. Not that it is a relationship. It’s an arrangement. One that—thankfully—seems to be benefiting both of us.
But it’s not Sadie who opens the door. Her husband Jamison greets us, his assessing gaze moving from me to Zeke. “Hi.”
I should explain to him that we didn’t come together. That I just happened to cross paths with Zeke at the bottom of the steps. But I don’t. That might make Zeke think I’m ashamed of the time we spend together, and I’m not. It’s just that it’s no one’s business but ours.
Not that I think it will ever be anyone else’s business, because there’s nothing going on. Not like that. We’re just friends. Friends who support each other. He helps me organize my house, and I make sure he takes his medicine. He teaches me how to defend myself, and I wipe the blood off his muscular, perfectly formed body.
Holy crap. I’m hot again.
Thankfully, Jamison steps back, leaving room for us to go in. Zeke jerks his chin in the direction of the house, indicating Ishould go first, so I do, hurrying to strip off my coat. The walk from my house to theirs is short, but Alaska is freaking freezing. I didn’t know when I buttoned it up that I would decide to have a little personal summer while I traveled, so once the heavy wool and matching scarf are loose, I let out a sigh of relief. After stopping to hang up my coat, I peek in the direction of the kitchen, watching as Zeke carries the meatballs I made to the counter, looking stern and stoic.
It’s funny how intimidating and almost scary I found him just a few weeks ago. Now?
Now I know he’s not the tiniest bit scary. Not unless he needs to be.
Zeke glances up and catches me watching him. I almost look away, embarrassed, but then I see the hint of emotion in his eyes and reconsider. The man is difficult to read, but I’m starting to get better at it, and right now he is way out of his element.
Which means this is another opportunity for me to be the one who takes care of him.
I go to where he stands, awkwardly positioned between the kitchen and the open dining area. “Would you like for me to hang your coat up?” I smile, hoping to put him at ease. “It’s the least I can do since you kept me from cracking my head open on the sidewalk.”