WAYLON (Ruthless MC 1)

“Well, if you get tired of that itty-bitty loveseat, there’s plenty of room in this bed with me.”

What would it be like to sleep next to the guy who hummed with energy even when he was unconscious? That thought invades my mind before I can stop it.

“You’re thinking about it, huh?”

“No, I’m not,” I lie with a straight face. I point to the nightstand, where I placed a huge bottle of water. “I left you plenty of fluid to rehydrate. Please drink as much as you can. And there’s a bedpan in the drawer. Use it when you’re ready to empty your bladder. And I’ll dump it out when I get home from work.”

“Yeah, no more yellow angel dress.” He gives my blue-gray scrubs a regretful up and down, then brings that crystal blue back to me. “So you do this for a living?”

He’s in my apartment, so I guess there’s no reason to try to keep my private information from him now. “Yes, I’m a nurse at Wilmington St. Joseph.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes stay on me as I strip off my gloves and start gathering up my things. “Well, you’re the first woman I ever had patch me up.”

“Not even your mom?”

“Nah, she wasn’t the kind of mom who kissed boo-boos.” His tone loses the lazy and amused drawl. “She didn’t kiss boo-boos. Just popped you for whining and told you to bring her another beer.”

He snorts—like he’s telling a joke. But his half-smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

And for some reason, I find myself telling him. “I didn’t have a boo-boo kisser growing up either. Maybe that’s why I became a professional healer of boo-boos as an adult.”

“Yeah, we took different paths on that. I just became an asshole,” he answers with another “not really a joke” half-smile.

“Well, you’re not my first asshole,” I reply, matching his wry tone. “But you are my first MC patient—that’s what you are, right? One of those motorcycle gang guys?”

Silence.

He regards me for way too many beats, his eyes glittering under the apartment’s dim lights. Then he asks, “You curious about me, Nurse Angel?”

My mouth dries up even though I’m not the one who needs to rehydrate.

“I-I want you to get better,” I somehow manage to stutter out. “Hopefully, you’ll come to trust me enough to let me take you to the hospital.”

“Not going to happen.” His voice carries a quiet ferocity, leaving no room for argument.

But then he gives me that tiger smile again. “And just so you know, I’m curious about you, too. You’ll find out all about that when I heal up.”

My heart stops, and my body stirs below the waist. In a way I shouldn’t like. “Are you threatening me?”

The question comes out more like a hope. I need him to stay a dangerous criminal who has to be restrained. Not a man who makes me feel…

I don’t allow myself to finish that thought. It doesn’t seem wise. Or safe.

“I’m making you a promise,” he answers with another lazy tiger grin. “To punish you for disobeying my order—also, thank you for keeping my loco ass alive.”

He’s been shot and handcuffed to a bed, but he lies in lazy repose like he’s just paying me a friendly visit.

He has a country accent but says words like loco and understands Spanish.

Punishment and Gratitude…his opposing promises swirl around my chest along with a bunch of emotions I shouldn’t be having.

No, I would never admit it, but yes, I am curious about him.

Keeping my expression placid, I answer, “You healing up and getting on your way is the only thank you I need.”

Then I pick up my purse and head for the door. This conversation needs to be done.

But I peek over my shoulder at him right before I leave.

And I find him staring back at me.

Like a predator with a plan.

CHAPTER 7

Over the next couple of days, I navigate work the best I can, considering that the news that Jonathan invited one of the neuroradiologists, a super pretty brunette named Lyndsey, out for coffee quickly makes its way down to me on the first floor.

“At least Dr. America asked for a pause before he spit game at somebody else.” Sierra tries to console me after she tells me the latest gossip. “I guess that’s kind of considerate.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I agree, even though I’m feeling pretty dumb for losing my doctor boyfriend because I’m terrible at sex and couldn’t bring myself to disavow Ant.

Luckily, I have the criminal who shouldn’t currently be in my bed to distract me from how bad I messed up with Jonathan.

He mostly sleeps while I’m at home. Thank goodness. Also, that lets me know I was sort of right to bring him here to rest, even if his presence in my living space is keeping me from figuring out how to get Jonathan back.