Girl Gone Viral (Modern Love #2) - Alisha Rai Page 0,49

louder.

She placed her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. Entering Jas’s bedroom was fairly intimate, but if he was hurt, she didn’t want to ignore him. She heard a low, tortured moan, and that made up her mind for her.

There was enough light coming in from the rapidly lightening sky to see Jas clearly. His head rocked back and forth on the pillow. He’d kicked the sheet off. He was naked except for a pair of shorts. Seeing that much skin might have normally sent her packing, but he was in so much distress, she couldn’t leave.

His lips parted and he gasped. His brow was furrowed. She walked over to the side of the bed. “Jas,” she whispered, but he was in deep REM sleep, his eyes moving rapidly under his eyelids. And what he saw wasn’t making him happy.

“Shhh,” she crooned, and placed her hand on his cheek. He immediately stilled. Jas shifted his legs and she glanced down. This was as much of his flesh as she’d ever seen, but she could barely register his lean stomach when the web of scars on his right thigh and knee existed.

She’d seen these scars before. The details were murky, but she knew he’d been injured in the course of duty, that he sometimes moved a little stiffly when it was cold out. Katrina wasn’t a veteran, but she knew trauma. She knew scars, scars on the body and on the soul.

She studied the lines of exhaustion and pain etched into his face. Her heart melted. He was so focused on her, always. On her comfort and well-being.

Because you’re his client.

Her lips twisted. Her silly romantic dreams were just that, dreams, and he couldn’t help that he didn’t feel the zings she did. Nothing else would come of this, but she considered him a friend. She’d be a better friend, his best friend. He had things going on in his life that had nothing to do with her, and she ought to be more sensitive to all the stuff he might be dealing with, the stuff he didn’t show her or anyone else.

Katrina didn’t want to wake him. On the contrary, she hoped he caught up on his sleep. Before leaving, she opened his window a crack so air could flow into the room. A poor substitute for her cool hand on his face, but probably a much safer option to mitigate his discomfort while he slumbered.

Chapter Thirteen

JAS HAD GROWN up with peach everything—peach cobbler, peach pie, peach jam, even peach sandwiches. He might not be a farmer but peaches ran in his blood, and occasionally his mouth watered when he remembered the taste of the first crop of the season, fresh from the trees.

So it was no surprise the delicious peachy scent of whatever was cooking lured him out of bed and downstairs in the morning.

He entered the kitchen and found Katrina at the stove, stirring something in an old cast-iron pan. She wore leggings and a soft cozy cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bra strap and light brown skin. He kept his gaze above her neck. “Good morning.”

Her beaming smile caught him off guard. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” he lied. His sleep had been fitful, as it occasionally was in times of stress. He didn’t remember his nightmares perfectly, but the feelings always lingered in the morning.

For the most part, he could repress the memories of getting hurt, but sometimes . . . well, sometimes they popped to center stage. “You?”

The dog lifted her head from where she lay at Katrina’s feet. He expected the animal to growl or huff at him, but instead she only put her giant head down and closed her eyes. Looking at Doodle’s still big paws, he feared she wasn’t quite done growing.

“Excellent. Doodle kept me nice and warm. Did Bikram get back to you about anyone missing her?”

Her words were casual, but he caught the hint of worry underlying them. Her attachment to the dog was very clear. “He hasn’t responded yet. He seems to be a little annoyed with me, so he may be delaying.” He hadn’t meant to confide that last part. The nightmares must have loosened his tongue.

“Hmm. Maybe he’s annoyed with you for the same reason he seems to dislike me.”

“He doesn’t dislike you,” he said automatically.

She lifted a shoulder, and the sweater slipped farther. Not that he was looking.

“It might be he’s resentful that you working for me has kept you