Jardin's Gamble (Haven, Texas 9)

“Good. Now show me that hand.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re seriously stubborn?”

He grinned. “Not all that often. Maybe it’s something you bring out in me.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. But she offered up her hand and he carefully tugged at the bandage.

He sucked in a breath at the red, sore-lookin

g burn underneath.

“Oh, rocket, you should have told me.”

She shrugged. “It’s really not so bad and it wasn’t like you could have done anything.”

“I could have taken you to the damn urgent care clinic,” he countered. “What did the doctor say?”

“What doctor?”

He narrowed his gaze. “You didn’t go to the doctor?”

“My boss saw it and put some cream and a bandage on it. It’s been healing pretty well. Still can’t really write with it but typing is a lot easier as long as I’m careful not to bang it.”

“Your boss didn’t insist on taking you to see a doctor?” Who is this fucker?

“Oh, he tried. But I refused to go.” She pressed the bandage back down. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers.

She stared up at him, enthralled.

“From now on, rocket, you’re to tell me every time you’re injured. Understand? Even if it’s a damn papercut.”

“You’re gonna get sick of hearing from me then, because I’m a klutz.”

“I’ll never get sick of hearing from you.”

8

I’ll never get sick of hearing from you.

She shook the words off as she followed him through his house. It was small, with the living areas downstairs and three bedrooms upstairs. There wasn’t a lot of furniture. A couple of recliners and a huge TV in the living room and a round table with four chairs in the dining room. That was about it.

But it was a hundred times better than where she lived. Mind you, most places were better than where she lived.

There were a few dirty dishes in the sink of the small kitchen, but, other than that, it was surprisingly tidy.

“Come through here.”

He opened a door out to the backyard. She stepped out onto the small porch and her breath caught. “You have a pool?”

“Yep. Bought this place because it was close to the garage, but this was a definite bonus.”

“A garage called Jim-Bob’s. Something you want to tell me?”

“That my name is secretly Jim-Bob?” he joked. “Afraid not. But I did buy it from a guy called Josh, whose grandfather was Jim-Bob. Apparently, everyone has just kept the name.”

So, he had too. That was sweet.

“While I’m grilling these steaks, how about you take a dip?”