Chapter Seven Emily #2
He scratched his short beard, the sound of bristles reminding me of the noise they’d made when he scraped them against my inner thighs. “A satisfaction. A memory. A craving for more.”
“And strawberry doesn’t do that for you?”
“Not even close.”
Breathless . . . no. I couldn’t even breathe anymore.
“Okay, Mr. Worthington. I’ll have to remember that. And next time—although hopefully there won’t be a next time—I’ll send half vanilla and half of a promising flavor, whatever that is. I wouldn’t want you to have to indulge in something so plain and unmemorable.” I flicked my teeth over my lip.
“A next time . . .”
“That would mean another button or something worse, and we’re not going to manifest that, so let’s hope your future of desserts are ones you purchase and not ones I send.”
He didn’t respond, but his eyes did. They were savoring me, taking me in like I was wine, and he was swirling it around his mouth several times before he swallowed.
“Gavin . . . you can’t convince me you came all the way here just to thank me. Not when you could have called the rehab center and asked for me or your grandmother’s cell and had her give me the phone.”
He nodded toward me. “I tried that the night you delivered the cupcakes. You weren’t here.”
“I only work the day shift.”
“I know that now.”
With his attention on my mouth, I couldn’t help but play with my lips, rubbing them together before biting them. “So if you now know that, why didn’t you call? Why are you here?”
“I had to give you Ben’s drawing.” He shifted his weight. “Plus, I thought it would be more personal if I gave you my appreciation face-to-face.”
“Your appreciation . . . It was only cupcakes. You didn’t have to make the trip just to thank me. Unless you came in to see your grandmother too. In that case, it makes perfect sense.”
“She’s part of it, yes, but you’re most of it.”
Silence grew between us. It was so thick, even if I could have breathed, I wouldn’t be able to find the air.
“You’re welcome.” I waited. “That is what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”
He let out a short laugh. “I suppose it is.”
I loved this conversation more than anything. The fact that he had come here for me, that I was getting his attention, that he was looking at me this way.
But I also loved the idea of ending this chat on my terms. Of being the first one to walk away. Of making him look over his shoulder to stare at my ass.
I moved out from the computer to a spot that was only a few feet from him.
If I thought I was a dripping mess before, the closeness was nearing me toward an edge I wasn’t prepared for.
“It was good to see you, Gavin. I know Bettie is going to be thrilled that you’re here.
” I gave him a smile, gently running my finger down his chest, and once it grazed his belt buckle, I stepped away.
Rather than walk to the nurses’ station to enter the notes I’d attempted to do just minutes ago, I went into the nearest patient’s room and stopped at the side of his bed.
I didn’t know why, but keeping myself occupied with a patient felt easier on my brain than going to the desk and forcing myself not to stare at the doorway of Bettie’s room.
“Henry, how’s everything going?” My hands went to my hips.
He adjusted the oxygen tubes in his nose. They never sat right as they lay on top of his mustache. “Just dandy. When, my dear Emily, are you going to kick this old geezer out? This hip is ready to enter the world.”
I laughed. “Is that so?”
“Mmm-hm.”
“And what does your wife say about that?”
He rolled his eyes. “After sixty years of marriage, wouldn’t you want me here too?”
“Aww, not the case at all, Henry. But your wife also has a bad hip, and she wants to make sure you’re strong and healthy so when you return home, you’ll be able to take care of her.”
“She just likes the time off from cooking.”
I grinned. “I bet she’s counting down the days until your return.” I pulled his blanket up, knowing he was always cold. “PT will be in soon. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”
“Yes, you can tell the chef I’d like more mayo on my tuna salad. There was hardly any in my sandwich last night. I could barely eat it. And he needs to add a lot less onion. I thought the night nurse was going to pass out from my breath.”
I laughed even harder. “I guess I’m happy I work the day shifts.” I put my hand on his arm. “I’ll deliver the message, don’t you worry.”
Henry didn’t remember, but he’d checked off the box for onion because I’d helped him with his dinner order.
“If you need me, you know how to reach me,” I said.
“Sure do!”
I gave him a smile, and as I was leaving his room, Gavin was standing right outside, leaning against the wall, staring at me. Between not expecting him and his nearness, I gasped.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I separated us, taking a few steps back.
This wasn’t where I’d left him.
He had relocated.
To here.
But why?
“Is Bettie not in her room? Or something?”
Several seconds passed before he replied, “I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”
“I’m confused . . . What are you doing?”
His cobalt eyes were smoldering. “Talking to you.”
“I know that, duh.” I smirked. “But you already thanked me. Isn’t it time to go see her?”
“I should, yes. But that would mean leaving you . . . and I’m not ready to do that.”