Page 14 of One Night Redemption

When he's finally gone, I turn to Cassie. "Since I'm going to be here for a little bit, can you take a break? We can get a coffee and maybe something to eat at the cafeteria? I'm starving and haven't eaten yet."

"Cam, you've been on for seven hours." Her tone is horrified.

"I know, there's been no time. Calls have been back-to-back." My stomach growls loudly as if to say I'm not lying.

"Yeah, let me tell them I'm taking my break, and we'll go get you something. I'll even use my employee discount to get you the really good food and drinks." She flirts.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I hold her tight. "How'd I get so lucky?"

She cuts her eyes up to the ceiling. "Because I gave you a second chance, and don't you ever fucking forget it."

Chapter

Eleven

Cassie

By the time I unlock my front door and step into the peaceful solitude of my living room, there’s not a part of me that doesn’t hurt. I got conned into a double. The ER was down a nurse when my shift ended at ten. Why? Because someone tweaking on God only knows what decided to put her in a headlock which was way tighter than anyone could have imagined. Now, she’s in the fucking hospital under observation because she passed out, hit the floor, and has a concussion.

Kicking off my shoes, I put them in the closet by the door. I strip off my scrubs and everything else and it all goes straight into the washer. The only upside to pulling that double is that I now get two whole days off before I have to be back at the hospital.

I’m standing at the sink in my kitchen, buck ass naked, washing my hands so I can scarf down whatever leftovers can be scrounged from the fridge. And that’s how Cam finds me. He opens my bedroom door, and leans against the frame in that sexy, bad boy way of his.

“So are you the naked chef now, or what?”

“No, Mr. Germaphobe. You’ll be happy to know that whenever I come home, I immediately put my nasty, gross scrubs in to wash. Typically, I have a robe in the closet but I seem to recall that you talked me out of it in the bedroom yesterday morning while I was trying to get ready for work.”

He grins. “That’s right. I did. And you were plenty loud, Cass, but I don’t think you were complainin’.”

“Cocky little shit,” I mutter under my breath. But he hears me. I know he hears me because he starts laughing.

“It’s not cocky if it’s true, babe. That’s confidence. And there’s a turkey sub from Sally’s in the fridge. No tomato and loaded with pepper jack, just the way you like it.”

I am aware that chowing down on a sub while I’m standing naked in the middle of my kitchen is not exactly sexy. Feral? Definitely. “Let me shower and then … then I will eat. Right now, I just feel gross.”

“I might have another surprise for you … a little bit more luxurious than a turkey sub. Come on.”

I follow Cam into the bedroom, fully aware of the fact that I am naked and he is not. But when he opens the bathroom door, I forget everything. Candles. Soft music. A steaming hot bath with bubbles.

“You just earned major brownie points,” I tell him. “When did you do all this?”

“When you texted me that you were leaving the hospital,” he replied. “You’ve had a hell of a day, Cass. And night. Twenty-four hours on is too damn much. Now, get in that tub. I’ll bring you a glass of wine and might even rub your feet.”

“What’s the catch?” I ask him.

“No catch. Sometimes a foot rub is just a foot rub, Cass.”

I step deeper into the bathroom and climb into the tub. It’s bliss. Instant bliss. I let out a groan as the hot water reminds me just how many hours have been spent on my feet. A couple of minutes go by, and Cam comes back in with a glass of wine. My favorite. I don’t ask how he knows these things. If there is one thing I’ve figured out about Cam it’s that he sees everything.

He perches on the edge of the tub, lifts one of my feet onto his lap and starts to knead.

“Jesus Christ! I’m gonna drown in this tub,” I tell him, my head falling back against the rim.

He just grins as he keeps rubbing my feet. It’s the one thing no one ever told me about being a nurse—that your feet and legs will absolutely pay the price. And my back isn’t exactly getting off scot-free either.

The room is quiet. The occasional splash of water and the low music are the only sounds. And it hits me then that this is the first time since my Mamaw died that anyone has taken care of me. It’s a good feeling and a lonely one all at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, picking up on the shift in my mood.

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