Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Except for that hair. Hugo’s fingers twitched, tempted to see if it was as silky as it looked. He’d always wondered what Solomon would look like if he’d let that peach fuzz grow. Now he knew.
Ten kinds of trouble.
He forced his attention down to his chest, confirming what his sister had told him with his own eyes. It was really there, right over his heart. And it wasn’t new. When had he had it done?
Why?
You know why.
When Solomon finally became aware of their presence and lifted his head, their eyes met. It was like no time had passed. Hugo felt the old connection sizzle back to life and jolt his heart into beating faster, the way it always had.
And that wasn’t the only physical reaction.
Shit.
“You fell?”
It was the best he could do on no sleep while fighting to hide his sudden arousal.
“You’re here,” Solomon responded, his frown disappearing. “Yes, I fell. It happens when you turn forty. You have two years left to enjoy being vertical. Cherish them.”
Bronte let out a startled laugh, reminding Hugo that she was still in the room.
“You’re not wrong about that.” She smiled at Solomon, idly picking up his chart for a quick scan. “I hit my fourth decade last year and started bumping into furniture like I’d suddenly forgotten how to walk. Oh and my knees started predicting the weather. Has that happened to you yet?”
Solomon’s lips twitched with barely suppressed humor. “Among other things.”
Hugo shook his head, feeling out of sorts and a little envious of their easy conversation. “Yeah, you both look ready for the nursing home to me. Let me get you a complimentary walker on your way out.”
“I couldn’t use it.” Younger made a face as he lifted his cast again. “Doesn’t look like I’ll be doing much of anything until this comes off.”
“Four to six weeks,” Bronte informed him apologetically. “The good news is the break wasn’t that severe, there are still things you can do and you’ve got a big family to spoil you and run all your errands.”
Solomon chuckled. “I don’t know if spoil is the right word. Other than Seamus, none of us are that warm and fuzzy.”
Bronte’s nod was distracted as she glanced over Hugo’s shoulder. “Speaking of cousins, where did yours run off to?”
He licked his lips before answering and Hugo swallowed a whimper, making an effort to control his body’s instinctual response to Solomon.
You’re still in your nursing scrubs. Do you really think those sorry excuse for pajama bottoms will do anything to hide it if he happens to look down?
Solomon was apologizing. “I’m sorry about him. You have no idea how sorry. He stopped by this morning and he was downstairs when it happened, so he was the one that got to drive me here. I wouldn’t blame you if you felt like pressing charges. He can be a little shit.”
Little shit? “What was he doing there so early? At your place, I mean.”
Those blue eyes were staring into his. Searching. “He never got around to telling me, but he probably wanted me to fix a ticket or hide a body. Who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s asked for something like that. He keeps forgetting I’m not the police chief anymore.”
“We all try to, hon.” Bronte murmured kindly.
Even if he were, Solomon would never do that kind of favor. He was a stickler for the rules.
He nodded toward Bronte. “I said he owed you an apology, and he agreed, but he’s gone now. I heard him tell one of the nurses I was hungry, and he was driving to the diner to buy me breakfast. My favorite, he said. Eggs Benedict.”
“You don’t like Eggs Benedict.”
Solomon snorted at Hugo. “See? The only eggs I don’t like are named Benedict. You know that and I know that, but I have a feeling the man with my keys is unaware.”
He was taking it well. A distant cousin dropped him off at the ER and took his vehicle without permission, and he seemed fine. That wasn’t like him either.
It obviously wasn’t like Bronte.
“Did that punk ass leprechaun steal your car?” She covered her mouth as Hugo and Younger started to laugh. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud. That was unprofessional and I apologize.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve called him worse in my head,” Younger admitted with an open, easy grin. “And we’ll say the leprechaun borrowed my car, since he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not stupid. He didn’t leave until he realized I knew people here, and he probably forgot I don’t have my phone. Not that I’m saying he’s a saint or anything, because he’s not. He likes to ride the line, fighting and hanging out in the seedier parts of town. Seamus says he’s just acting out around me because I’m an authority figure. That William’s upset because he has to go back to Ireland soon and the girl he’d flown over to be with was already married with a baby on the way. Of course, she didn’t tell him that because for her it was just a vacation fling and some dirty texts with a bad boy she never thought she’d see again. Anyway, I don’t think he has much to go back to, and with his brother and sister in college, he’ll be leaving on his own. Kind of sad, when you think about it.”