was almost overwhelming.
“Would it disturb you if I stayed awhile?” he asked.
“No. That’d be nice.” Her words were a little slurred and he guessed the meds were kicking in.
He toed off his shoes and took off his jacket, then lay down beside her. She curled on her side and he wrapped his arm around her middle.
“This okay?”
“Yes.”
She wriggled a little closer. They lay snuggled together for what felt like fifteen minutes and slowly he felt the tension ease out of her body.
“Feeling better?” he guessed.
“Yes. Thank God.” She sounded drowsy, almost as though she was tipsy.
“Let me guess. You’re not supposed to operate heavy machinery on those pills, huh?”
“Something like that.”
He tightened his grip for a moment, pulling her closer. Unable to help himself. She felt strong and fine and infinitely precious cradled against him.
“Can I ask you something?” Her voice was slow and lazy and contemplative.
“Sure.”
“You can be honest, because I probably won’t even remember this tomorrow. Do they ever bother you? You never look at them, you never say anything, but it’s not as though they’re not obvious. They must register. Right?”
It took him a moment to understand she was talking about her scars. It hit him that this was something that had been playing in her mind for a while, even though he suspected she would never have raised the subject if she wasn’t dopey from the pills.
He hated the thought that she’d been worried about something so trivial, that beneath her surface confidence and assurance this had been eating away at her. If he had known, he would have said something long ago. Mackenzie’s scars were a part of her, testaments to her grit and courage. He couldn’t imagine her any other way. It was that simple.
“They don’t register, for the most part,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “You have to understand how the male brain works. When there’s a naked woman in the room, there are better things to focus on, if you know what I mean. But I do wonder sometimes if they hurt.”
“They don’t hurt. Not anymore. My hips hurt, sometimes. And my back. And I can’t lift my left arm past shoulder height. But otherwise I’m good as new.”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You’re better than new.”
“So are you.”
Her hand slid over his, squeezing warmly. Words—affectionate, committed, emotional words—filled his head. Crazy and impulsive. He opened his mouth, but common sense stopped him before he could say what was in his heart.
It was too early to even be thinking like that. He needed to take a deep breath and remind himself that there was no need to rush into anything. They had time. Even though he would be returning to Sydney soon, Melbourne was only an hour’s flight away. He could visit every weekend if he wanted to. Or Mackenzie could come to him. His returning home was not the end of this. Of them.
“It would be really easy to fall for you, Oliver Garrett,” Mackenzie said. “So easy.”
He went very still, but she didn’t say anything further. After another minute or so her body loosened even more and he realized she was asleep. He lay beside her, breathing in her scent, thinking about what she’d said and what he hadn’t.
Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? It seemed to him that the answer had to be yes, because he was in love with Mackenzie. Fiercely so.
She challenged him, aroused him, fascinated him. She made him laugh, she made him think. She made him want more.
More of her. More happiness. More hours in the day. More laughter.
He could hear his brother’s cautious voice in his head, warning him to be practical and prudent, but he ignored it. His gut told him this was right, and so did his heart.
He waited until Mackenzie was deeply asleep, then eased from the bed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Mr. Smith waited in the hallway, his head resting mournfully on his front paws. He glanced at Oliver without lifting his head, giving him an even more lugubrious air.
“She’s fine, buddy. Don’t worry.” He leaned down and scratched beneath the dog’s chin. “You’re a good dog. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for messing around with my girl.”
Mr. Smith settled his head back onto his paws, his gaze once more going to the closed bedroom door. Oliver left him to his watchdog duties, heading home to check on Strudel.
She seemed fine, if a little sleepy, but