Carson shrugged it off his broad shoulders as if it were no big deal when they both had to know otherwise. "We handle crap like that in different ways. The important thing is that you deal with it."
"Even if that means hurling in a ditch."
"Hey, join the trauma-hurling club." The strengthening sun glinted off his smile as brightly as it did his golden hair.
"And you're a badass." A badass who happened to look like an angel who could lead a saint to sin.
"So are you."
Ohmigod, everything had been easier when she could keep her distance from him. She could almost delude herself into thinking he wasn't as—charming?—no, that wasn't quite right. Carson had seemed nice, a flat-out nice guy she'd liked, admired, wanted so much she'd been a blind idiot.
She really needed to go home fast. "Thanks for the quick reflexes in pulling over. I'm ready to leave now."
"Are you sure you'll be okay alone?"
"You can't be offering to stay with me?" She knew full well he had to get back to the squadron. Already he would have to work late into the night to clear through all the work and crises that would have piled up while he was out of the office—
Whoa. Stop.
Why had she taken so much note of his work schedule when she'd been dating other guys? It had been bad enough before when she took note of everything about him, back when she'd thought he felt the same attraction.
Carson swiped his sunglasses off and dried them on the leg of his flight suit. "I do have to get back to work, but I could pull together supper for you before I go. I haven't eaten today either, and I'm actually a competent cook."
"I know."
He stopped midswipe on a lens. "You do?"
Oops. Might as well fess up. He probably knew anyway and pretending she hadn't once followed him around like a silly puppy would only hint she still had feelings. While she might still have feelings, they sure weren't the tender kind anymore. "I used to pay all sorts of attention to what you did back during my 'crush' days."
His smile pulled tight. With guilt? He hooked his glasses on the neck of his uniform again. "So let me cook for you then."
Invite him into her apartment? Not a chance. "Thanks, but the drugs and the whole... every thing... are still making me nauseous."
"Then I can sit and pass you crackers."
Definitely guilt.
She so didn't want him taking care of her out of obligation. "Thank you, but you have work. I have papers to grade and laundry to do. You've done enough already."
Understatement of the year.
She could see he wanted to argue.. .but his cell phone rang again. His forehead creased with frustration, his hand gravitating toward his phone even as he obviously battled the urge to ignore it.
"You know you can't ignore the call. Take it. I'll be fine."
And she would.
If only his intense blue eyes didn't shout that he wasn't done with her yet.
Chapter 3
He was done.
Carson leaned against the quarter panel of his truck and stared past the pool up at Nikki's apartment. She was safely inside, thank God. He'd walked her to the door. She hadn't invited him in—no surprise—but he'd waited until she assured him the place was safe and empty.
Now he could return to the pile of messages waiting for him at the squadron since he'd accomplished all he could from a cell phone for one day.
So why was he hanging out in a half-empty apartment parking lot, rain drizzling until it dripped from his hair onto his forehead? If he loitered around, staring up at Nikki's image moving around inside for much longer, somebody would call the cops on his ass. If he didn't freeze to death first even though he had his leather jacket back. Damned if the thing didn't smell like her now, a light flowery perfume and something unmistakably her. And double damn, but why could he still recognize her scent even after seven months?