It also surprised me he had on a fresh pair of Army green cargo pants and a skintight, but clean, long-sleeved burgundy tee. Guess his boys delivered changes of clothes. I wondered if they took orders and had credit at Nordstrom’s. If they did, this would be on the pro side of my Should I Explore Things with Cabe “Hawk” Delgado List.
Hawk’s eyes didn’t leave me as he walked to the bed, sat on his side of it and leaned deep, his torso across the bed, his forearm in it, his face ending up close to mine.
“How you doin’, Sweet Pea?” he asked quietly.
“Can you do me a favor?” I asked quietly back.
“Depends,” he answered.
Figures.
“Next time you’re in a house that’s firebombed, can you pause to put on a shirt and shoes before you sally forth into the inferno?”
I watched from close as he grinned and his dimples popped out.
Then his eyebrows went up. “Sally forth?”
“Okay, you didn’t sally, you raced. You know what I mean.”
Something about his face changed and I couldn’t put my finger on it because his eyes moved to my hair. Then he fell to his front, bracing his weight on his opposite forearm as he lifted his other hand. He ran his fingers along my hairline, down around my ear and he shifted the hair off my neck. Then his eyes came to mine.
I held my breath because they were heated and intense like at dinner last night.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he whispered and I wanted to tear my eyes from his, I really did, I just couldn’t. “You were worried about me.”
“You were fighting a fire in a pair of cargo pants,” I explained, trying to sound casual and probably failing.
His heated, black eyes held mine for a long time, so long I felt my lungs start to burn.
Then he said, “All right, next time I’m in a house that’s firebombed, I’ll put on a shirt and boots before I tackle the inferno.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
His eyes moved over my face then he asked, “Now that we got that outta the way, you wanna answer my question?”
“What question?”
“How you doin’?”
“I’m fine.”
His eyes held mine again for several long seconds before he whispered, “Liar.”
“I am,” I decreed.
“Gwen, baby, you’re curled in a protective ball again.”
Shit. I was.
I uncurled and pushed up, taking pillows with me so I could rest against my headboard. Hawk moved too, pulling himself up and in so his hip was beside mine and his weight was leaning into his hand on the other side of me.
“Is Meredith downstairs?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Is she making homemade donuts?” I asked.
“Is that a hopeful question or a serious one?” he asked in return.