Page 122 of Bears Behaving Badly
“I guess we’re both awfully heroic,” she said with faux modesty, and he laughed. She turned until she was on her side, studying his profile.
He was still holding her hand as his breathing steadied, and he turned his head to smile at her. “I’m going to stay just like this for now. I’m afraid if I try to get on my side, I’ll puncture a lung. But ask me if I give a shit.”
“I try not to ask questions I know the answers to.” Then she sobered. “I was so blind. You were right there. You were under my nose for two years, and I never saw. I never saw. Not your bravery or kindness or disturbingly strong sweet tooth…”
“I’ve been crushing on you for over a year and never did anything about it. So, the opposite of brave.”
“There are different types, I suppose.” Then: “Really? A year?”
“Don’t get smug.”
“Too late!” She began to stretch, then groaned. “I think I might give the painkillers one more night.”
“Good call.”
“But imagine how the sex will be when we can bring our A game.”
He groaned. “You’ll kill me.”
“Too late to chicken out now,” she said, and kissed his knuckles.
Chapter 38
“I said I was sorry!”
“You didn’t, actually.” Mama Mac swiped at her with the dish towel again. “Worse, I had to hear about it from that nice bird you work with.”
“I can’t decide if you’re calling Nadia a bird because she’s British or because she’s a raptor. The first one’s okay, but the second could be considered—ack!That hurts almost as much as the bullets did.”
“Well, the towel’s damp.” But Mama Mac backed off, which validated Annette’s decision to pretend the annoying, half-hearted towel whaps hurt more than they did. “And here. This is what you came for.”
Annette took Lund’s original files back. “It’s one of the things I came for. Do I want to know where you stashed these?”
“You don’t, Nettie. And well done, you. For all of it. Except the part where you forgot to tell me you were attacked and hospitalized with multiple gunshot wounds.”
“Let’s not dwell on the past,” she replied as Mama Mac brandished the towel again. “That was days ago. We’re living in the present, which means I’ve got to follow a judge’s order to turn these in to IPA, and then I’m meeting David for lunch.”
Caro yawned as she slouched into the kitchen, scribbled on her pad, then handed Annette a note and tucked the pad back into her pajama pocket:
Lunch? It’s 8:30 in the morning, Net.
“I know, I’m running late. And oh, goody, you’re starting with the Net stuff, too.” What was up with that silly nickname? Laziness? Was itthathard to pronounce both syllables of her name? How much time could it possibly take?
But it was gratifying to see Caro again. She was still painfully thin (which Mama Mac was combatting with several small meals a day, plus protein shakes with pureed beef, and brownies, lots of brownies), but was clean and well rested in flannel pajamas and bare feet.
Mama Mac pushed a bowl of savory oatmeal toward her
“Ooooh!”
and past her to Caro, who fell to like she was starving. Which made sense.
“Oh.”
Mama Mac rolled her eyes and slid over another bowl. Annette had been doubtful about the savory oatmeal trend—she preferred hers with loads of cream and brown sugar—but there was something to be said for steel-cut oats with a fried egg, a slice of pork belly, sautéed mushrooms, and chives. “Yay!”
Caro snorted.
“What can I say?” Annette replied with her mouth full. “I take joy in the simple things.”
