Page 172 of Renard's Deliverance

Her stomach actually growled. Seemed she was getting her appetite back. But then, her man could make anything taste good.

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Oh, good. Can I have it?” She hadn’t felt like using it until now. But she’d woken up feeling a lot more alert today.

“No.” He grimaced. “I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” she asked.

He’d been tiptoeing around her since her explosion the day before yesterday. He kept trying to speak softly and he was barely swearing.

She knew he was doing it for her, but honestly, she wanted her old Renard back.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I have been resting since I got here.”

Now, she wanted to see her friends. They’d visited her in the hospital, but she’d been kind of out of it. And then she’d been asleep when they’d brought her some stuff. She missed them.

“I just don’t think you’re ready to deal with the thousand text messages and calls from the people in this town.” He set the food down on the nightstand.

“Everyone has been texting and calling?”

He grunted.

Amazement filled her. “This really is the best place to live, isn’t it?”

Renard stood and eyed her. “Yeah, Gem. It is.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I’m getting up today.”

“No, you’re not.” He frowned. “I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Yep. She wanted her old Renard back. Plus, he must be giving himself an ulcer trying to curb his bossy ways.

He sat, then picked up the tray and set it carefully over her lap. It had two bits at the side that came down on either side of her hips.

“Did you have this tray before?” she asked.

“Came with the apartment. Eat your eggs. Um, please.”

She glanced down at the scrambled eggs and potato hash. All things that were soft for her to eat.

“I don’t want to eat, though. And I want my phone.”

“You need to eat.” He picked up the fork.

“Renard, I know you’re not deaf.”

He held up a forkful of eggs. “Open up. Coming in.”

She glared at him. “When I called you Daddy, I didn’t mean that I wanted you to start treating me like a baby.”

“Not meaning to treat you like a baby,” he said. “Meaning to treat you like you’re someone precious who went through something horrendous and needs to be taken care of. That’s how I meant to treat you.”

“Damn,” she said, pointing at him. “You’re good.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am?”

---