Page 76 of Gamble
“Of course,” she smiled over at him as she put the car in motion.
“Let me guess. Nalani.” Elijah groused.
“I think it was Shane who gave it to me.” Reagan could feel his stare from the passenger seat.
“You met Shane, too?”
“Yep,” she quipped as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Just how many of my friends have been lying to me?” he groused.
“Oh… I don’t know. More than two but less than one hundred,” she teased.
His noncommittal “humph’ was his only reply.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to share what they’ve told you?”
She caught an edge of worry in his voice. He was wondering if they’d told her about the true nature of his job and the BDSM lifestyle. Things may be going okay between them so far, but it was still too early to broach that subject, so she answered with an equally non-committal answer. “Enough to reinforce to me I’d met the real you in Vegas.”
The rest of the drive to his neighborhood took twenty minutes through West Hollywood traffic. With each turn they took, Reagan found herself more charmed by the tree-lined streets and well-maintained houses. This was exactlythe middle-class neighborhood she could picture Elijah in—unpretentious but solid, with kids playing in driveways—evidence of summer vacation everywhere.
When the GPS showed they’d arrived, she found his house was a classic California ranch, brick and stucco with a well-tended front yard and mature landscaping that provided privacy from the street.
“It’s perfect,” she said as she pulled into his driveway.
“It’s not fancy,” he warned, nervous about her seeing where he lived.
“I don’t need fancy, Elijah.” Turning off the engine, she turned to pin him with a stare. “I need you.”
His eyes widened, but he had no reply to her declaration, so she exited the car.
As Reagan helped her patient inside, she was struck by how much the house felt like him—comfortable, masculine, but with thoughtful touches that spoke to a man who paid attention to details. The living room, where he’d been camped out for the past week, showed evidence of his recent struggles, but underneath the clutter, she could see a home.
“Nalani’s been taking care of things,” he said, noticing her looking around. “She’ll probably be by later to check on me.”
“I’m sure she will,” Reagan said, already cataloging what needed to be done. “I like her, by the way. And I have a feeling we’re going to be ganging up on you over the next few weeks.”
“Weeks?” Elijah’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you said you took one week off, which I’ll remind you that you don’t need to do. I’m sure I’ll be…”
Reagan moved into his personal space, lifting her fingers to his lips to quiet him mid-sentence.
“Stop trying to scare me away, Elijah. I’m right where I want to be doing what I want to be doing… helping you recover. If it makes you feel any better, I do have the perfect idea of how youcan return the favor. And you have exactly three and a half weeks to do that.”
For the first time, Elijah broke into the smile she’d missed so much before asking, “Oh? Why three weeks?”
Reagan grinned back. “Because my best friend, Meena, is getting married, and I need a date. You can repay me by not making me go to her wedding alone.”
The look that crossed Elijah’s face was worth every moment of uncertainty she’d felt over the past few weeks. Hope mixed with something that looked suspiciously like joy.
“Reagan Murphy,” he said, “you are going to be the death of me.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, settling him onto his couch before leaning in to place a small kiss on his cheek. “But what a way to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ELIJAH
Elijah stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the sounds of Reagan puttering around in his kitchen. Three days post-surgery, and he still couldn’t quite believe she was here. In his house. Taking care of him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
