every line, feeling a little like a voyeur, and then frowned as his eyes landed on the bandages that covered one shoulder and spread down her side.
The frown deepened at the sight of the gun in the shoulder holster, lying on the coffee table.
“I hope you have a permit for that.”
She looked up as he spoke, her clear gray eyes wide, framed by thick lashes. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she nervously licked a lush lower lip.
“I’m a cop. That is, I was a cop.”
God, she’s pretty. He hadn’t noticed before, but now she was warm and dry, with firelight licking along those sweet curves. The hard punch of lust surprised him, settling low in his abdomen. He struggled to focus on more important things.
“What happened?” He gestured at her bandages.
“It’s nothing.” She reached for her soaked hoodie, grimacing in distaste.
“Here.” Colin stepped forward with the sweatshirt, and for a moment it looked like she was going to turn it down. “Come on, I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“I don’t need help.”
His skepticism must have shown on his face because she had the grace to blush and snatch the sweatshirt from his hands. For a moment, Colin watched her try to pull it over her head, jostling her bad side as little as possible, and trying to smother the little gasps of pain when she moved the wrong way. Rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and carefully untangled her from the fabric. She stiffened immediately. Colin worked on keeping his hands to himself, though his fingers tingled at the accidental brush of soft skin at her waist where her tank rode up. He stepped back.
“Thanks,” she murmured grudgingly, “I’m Evie.”
The sweatshirt bagged on her, covering her to her thighs and slipping off one shoulder as she reached out a hand. Something hot moved through Colin at the sight of her wrapped in his clothes, but he shook it off and enveloped her hand in his, noting the firm grip and graceful fingers.
“Colin Daniels. Welcome to Bright’s Ferry.”
Jennifer Teege, Nikola Sellmair