7. Asher #2
I tugged my arm, trying to remove it without waking her up.
She let out a tiny sigh, and I froze again as her ass brushed against me, causing my brain to misfire.
Oh, this was not good, I needed to get out of here before I got fired.
Innocent mistake or not, this did not look good from any perspective.
I shifted my arm again, and she made another little sound that had parts of me standing at attention.
I tried to move my hips away from her, wishing that this was just my version of a nightmare that I could wake up from.
The door creaked as it opened, and my heart jumped into my throat as Hunter poked his head inside. He took in the scene, Dahlia sleeping soundly in my arms on the bed, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“This isn’t what it looks like!” I mouthed, and his lips pursed.
I swore under my breath and gave my arm one last quick tug, slipping out from her grasp and practically throwing myself off the bed.
We both looked at Dahlia, but she just readjusted herself and continued to sleep.
Hunter jerked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing for me to follow him.
I stumbled to my feet and headed after him, shutting the door quietly behind me.
“Care to explain what that was back there?” he asked me, but his tone was surprisingly calm.
“I know it looks bad. Dahlia woke up having a night terror, so we put on a movie to help her calm down. She fell asleep, and I guess I did too, and...” I held up my hands.
“I guess she sort of rolled into me during the night?” It sounded completely insane when I explained it like that, maybe I was losing my mind.
Hunter snorted a laugh and slapped me on the arm.
“Of course that’s what happened, because I know you.
” He smiled. “It’s good that she’s comfortable with you because until we catch this guy, she is going to be stuck with us as babysitters, and it’s easier when they don’t actively hate us.
” I nodded quickly, smoothing out my shirt and tucking it back into my pants.
“Just, maybe try to avoid cuddling her.” He smirked, and I shot him a glare as he slipped back inside the room.
I followed Hunter inside and shut the door as he wandered to the bathroom.
I heard the shower turn on and sat down at the table, not willing to go near the bed after the last two incidents.
Dahlia was a witness—hell, the sole survivor of a twisted serial killer—that we were assigned to protect.
I was not allowed to think about her in any capacity other than as a work assignment, and I especially shouldn’t be touching her.
Although she was the one who touched me first, but that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
I had to remain objective and detached, keep my thoughts clinical.
I looked over at her, asleep on the bed, and startled when I realized that Dahlia was staring back at me.
“Oh, hey.” I smiled, clearing my throat. “Sorry, did the shower wake you up?” She nodded and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face.
“Yeah, but it’s fine, we need to get going soon, right?” she asked, and it was my turn to nod. She moved to stand and winced, her hand going to her back. I was out of my seat in a heartbeat, steadying her before she could fall.
“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” I frowned as she sank back to sit on the bed.
“I’m fine, I just twisted funny and it tweaked the stitches or something,” she muttered, hissing out a breath through her teeth as she straightened.
“Lay down, I’ll check and make sure you didn’t pop a stitch,” I ordered, and she gave me a look.
I prepared for an argument, but to my surprise she listened to me, moving slowly until she was laying on her stomach.
“I’m going to lift up your shirt a bit, is that okay? ” I asked, and she laughed lightly.
“I figured you’d have to, Doc . It’s fine,” she replied, and I smirked, tugging her shirt up to uncover the bandages on her back.
I lifted them gently, checking each line of stitches littering her back.
Nothing screamed infection or torn stitches, so I replaced the bandages carefully and pulled her shirt down, my fingers brushing against her lower back briefly before I pulled away again.
“I think it’s just a bit of stiffness from it beginning to heal,” I explained as she sat up, her face pinched with pain. “Do you still have those meds the doctor gave you?” She glared at me with a surprising amount of anger.
“They make me feel fuzzy, I don’t like it,” she bit out, and I held up my hands in surrender.
“Alright, you don’t need to take them. But you’ll probably have a rough time in the car without them,” I replied, standing up when I heard the bathroom door creak open. Hunter walked out to join us, his hair still damp from the shower.
“Either of you want to freshen up before we take off?” he asked, giving me a sharp once over. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my bag, rooting around for a new shirt. He was a stickler for appearances.
After a quick shower, we loaded up the car and headed back to the highway. Today at least the skies were clear, and we should be back home by late afternoon.