Her hand crept up to touch his face, and he didn’t miss her wince. It brought him back to sanity, but did nothing to curb his arousal. He pulled back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” she replied on a sigh.
“I didn’t mean I regretted kissing you. That we’re definitely going to have to do again, but first you need to heal. I don’t want to be the jerk who takes advantage of you while you are lying injured in bed.”
“Could have fooled me,” Naomi said from the doorway. “Men. Always thinking with their little heads instead of their big ones. Now get out so she can sleep.”
A mulish expression dropped over Francine’s face and he could smell the coming fight. He verbally stepped in before it could erupt. “I’m staying. Besides, won’t it make it easier if we’re both in the same room to take care of?”
“I thought you weren’t that injured,” his sister said, narrowing her eyes in challenge.
Adopting a puppy dog face, he tried to look as pitiful as possible while beside him, Francine snickered. “I’m feeling kind of weak, actually. I think all that exertion has caught up. Francine won’t mind if I nap beside her. Will you, Red?”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. But I warn you right now, I’ve been told I’m a bed hog.”
And boy, did that turn out to be the understatement of the century, Mitchell thought as she sprawled on her stomach across the mattress, the comforter tucked under her cheek while he held on by the tiniest sliver of mattress. However, despite the discomfort, he couldn’t really say there was another place he’d rather be. The thought didn’t frighten him as much as he expected.
Chapter Nine
Playing the card game, Asshole-which still made them giggle just as energetically as it did when they were kids-with Mitchell, Naomi along with whomever wasn’t out searching for the hunter got tedious after a while. But, Francine couldn’t deny that even as she missed Alejandro, she enjoyed spending time with Mitchell, the boy she remembered now a man with the same temper and twisted set of morals that let him cheat at cards, but think that his sister’s BFF was off limits.
Or used to be off limits. True to his word, he’d not left her presence since her injury the previous morning, sleeping by her side, grumbling that she kicked in her sleep. His family took his presence as a given, not saying a word, which surprised Francine given his family weren’t the types to curb their tongues. It seemed everyone assumed he’d taken his rightful spot. Francine might have thought it too except for one thing; he didn’t say or do anything to make her think his newfound glued to her side status was permanent. Which really sucked.
She wanted to think he’d turned the corner when it came to his thinking of her, that he’d forgotten his idiotic obsession with treating her as his sister. Hard to pretend, though, when he did nothing to convince her that he saw her in a romantic light. He’d not tried a repeat of his kiss-not once-even though she’d woken a few times with his face mere inches from her, his eyes studying her intently as if she puzzled him. Yet, despite his lack of action, she could see the hunger in his gaze, and she caught him adjusting himself when he thought she wasn’t looking, obviously aroused. She loved that she could cause such a reaction, hope blossoming that she’d finally get what her heart had forever desired.
However…even as she exulted over their burgeoning closeness, she worried about Alejandro and missed him. Funny how in his short time, he’d managed to snag a portion of her heart. Odder still how she saw nothing wrong with caring so strongly for another man while in bed with the one she’d always loved.
“What’s got you looking so down, Red?” Mitchell asked, tweaking a curl, employing his new nickname for her.
What would he say if she said she needed some naked loving? Probably dive out of the window if past incidences were any indication. Maybe she should keep her lusty needs to herself. “Has anyone heard from Jag?” she asked.
“Nope, and I say good riddance to that. Maybe the alley cat’s slunk back home.”
Mitchell just couldn’t resist the barbs about Alejandro. She elbowed him and he grunted. “Alejandro wouldn’t do that. He said he’d come back.” And despite her own trepidation that he’d gotten a taste and lost interest, a part of her believed him when he said he’d return.
“Like a cold sore.”
“Don’t be an ass, Mitchell. Despite what you think of him, he’s been nothing but nice to me. Nicer than you’ve been I might add.”
“What are you talking about? I’m here, aren’t I, keeping you company and saving you from boredom?”
“And what about the five years previous to that?” she remarked dryly.
“I was busy?” he said with a hopeful lilt.
“Busy shagging skanks. And the only reason you’re even talking to me again is because of Jag. At least he’s never bowled people over to escape me.” Although, Mitchell was doing better. He’d gone from one extreme to another, glued to her side if for reasons still vague to her.
“Can we stop talking about him?” Mitchell grumbled.
Oh ho, did she hear a hint of jealousy? What fun. “Why? I like talking about him, like how big and strong he is. What amazing eyes he has. Oh, and he does this wicked thing-”
A pillow slapped her on the head along with Mitchell’s growled, “Enough. You like the cat. I get it. Now, change the subject.”
“Are you jealous, Mitchy?” she bugged as she yanked the pillow off her head.
“Of course not.”
Even she could hear the lie. She smiled to herself. “Fine. No more discussing Jag and how awesome he is. What do you want to do instead?” she asked as she gingerly rolled onto her back. The gunshot wound had closed, the skin knitting itself together, but still felt very tender. One of Mitchell’s hands helped prop her as the other stuffed pillows behind her back.
“Wanna play cards again?” he asked. Done playing nursemaid, he leaned back.
“No. And I swear, if you try and make me, I’m going to hide the ace in a hole that you’re not going to like.”
“Testy, testy. Wanna watch some television?”
“It’s eleven a.m., which means talk shows or reruns. No thanks.” She didn’t need to know who the father of the teenage girl’s baby was. Seriously, how did people stomach those shows? And the Price Is Right just wasn’t the same without Bob Barker.
“Okay, grouchy one, what do you want to do then?”
“Truth or dare.” She blurted it out without even thinking. She immediately expected him to shoot the idea down. Once again, he surprised her.
“Okay, Red. You’re on. Me first.”
She frowned at him. “Why do you go first? I came up with the idea.”
A smirk twisted his lips. “Which means I go first. Or do you want to arm wrestle for the privilege?”
He’d like that, wouldn’t he? “Jerk. Go ahead, ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
He grinned. “Excellent. So what’s it going to be, truth or dare, Red?”
“Truth.” Her eyes dared him to do his worst.
“Are you really going to let the cat move in and share your bed?”
“Yes. He’s a great cook and I liked sleeping with him. All night long. He’s the one who complained I didn’t share the bed well and that I stole all the covers.” She presented him with an innocent smile that completely ignored his glower.
Mitchell growled. “You didn’t answer the question. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then next time ask me properly because I answered the question. My turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
She cackled. “Ooh, you’re feeling brave, are you? Okay so answer this then, do you still see me as a sister?” Going after him with a big blazing truth gun, she almost held her breath waiting for the answer.
