Page 32 of Pulse

They stared at each other across her kitchen.

So long, she’d apparently forgotten how to act.

“Uh, can I get you anything? A drink or…” She shrugged.

“What? Fuck no. You should be resting, not fucking serving me.”

He had a point. “Uh, okay. Then back to the couch, I guess.” She gestured for him to leave the kitchen before her, but all he did was step to the side so she could pass by. She frowned as he followed her back to the living room, hovering close as though worried she’d keel over at any point.

“Sit anywhere you’d like.” She returned to her favorite spot on the couch beside the armrest and pulled the blanket over her lap. It wasn’t her clothes, but it worked as substitute armor in a pinch.

Pulse sat too. Next to her. Right next to her. So close he wasin her bubble, as her coworker’s daughter said when a boy at school had pulled her pigtails all day. Her breath caught. God, he was close. And what was that scent? He smelled woodsy, warm, and cozy, like a human blanket she wanted to burrow in.

What the hell?

That concussion must be worse than she realized.

“So I’m guessing you’re here for a play-by-play of what happened last night?”

“How are you feeling?” he asked instead of answering. “The stitches look great.”

“Oh.” She pressed a hand over her forehead where they’d stitched her up and left the wound open to the air. They’d cleaned it as best they could, but she probably needed to rinse it in the shower, which they said was fine, just no soaking. “I feel like I was in a car accident.”

He grunted.

“I assumed we’d talk at the hospital. I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here… wait, how did you find out where I live?”

He grinned, and damn, he was attractive when he smiled.

“Right.” They probably checked her hospital records. Either that or his club had some hacker extraordinaire in the club who knew everything from when she lost her first tooth to what she bought at the grocery store last week. They fell silent. The weight of what she’d learned last night settled between them like a ticking bomb ready to blow.

He was too close. She couldn’t smell anything but him. All she could feel was the heat wafting off him. It, combined with the warmth from the blanket, had her sweating. Or maybe it was the upcoming conversation that made her sweat.

She wasn’t one to beat around the bush. A problem solver, that’s what Margo called her. Unresolved issues drove her insane, and she’d rather jump into an uncomfortable chat if it fixed an issue. So why was she hesitating now?

Get it together.

She cleared her throat. “So, do you want to tell me why the DEA sent someone to run me off the road and give me a concussion?”

His eyes flared, and he reared back as though she’d smacked him. Whether it was from her blunt delivery or the information itself, she couldn’t tell.

The way his jaw ticked and his fists curled on his thighs spoke to his rising anger.

Maybe she should have softened the delivery.

“Sorry. I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“You’re sure it was the DEA?”

His gaze burned with emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“As sure as I can be.” Talia sighed. A dull throb settled between her eyes. Unfortunately, she’d had all the medicationshe could for the moment unless she wanted to pop open the few narcotics the doctor prescribed.

And she didn’t.

“I worked late last night. I was the only one left in the office, which is not uncommon.”

His eyes narrowed as though he disapproved.

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