Hel told herself all of the logical reasons, but she didn’t let go of his hand, and her mind flickered back to their first kiss, which was barely a kiss. A smile curved at the corner of her mouth as their brush of lips meant more to her than any number of passionate kisses she had been given in the past.
The noise in the department faded around her, and she found her eyes fluttering shut, and in a hospital chair, next to the bed of a man she could never have, she drifted off to sleep.
The cold ice dropping from Hel’s hand and hitting her lap woke her up. Blinking in surprise, she glanced down at her watch and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she had only slept for a few minutes.
Gently, she tugged her hand from Frost’s and immediately regretted it, feeling a cold shiver run through her.
Getting quietly up, she stared down at the sleeping giant, who looked so soft in sleep, compared to the tough man he was when awake. He hadn’t hesitated earlier, taking the patient down in seconds. She shivered again as she recalled how he jumped to her defence. It made her feel a lot of things she shouldn’t.
He stirred in his sleep, a frown crossing his brow, and Hel resisted the urge to lean forward and smooth out his eyebrows, instead stepping away from the bed and leaving to fetch the plaster saw.
“Hel. Are you okay? How’s your face?” The charge nurse bustled up to her in the corridor.
“Hey, Nat. It’s fine. Sore, but I’ll live,” Hel said. Even though it wasn’t just sore, it throbbed in time with the headache developing behind her eyes.
“Shouldn’t we X-ray your face? Make sure you don’t have an orbital floor fracture?”
Hel huffed. Shit, Nat was right. She hadn’t even thought about it, and she should have. It was literally her job. “You’re right. I’ll go and check in at the front desk. I’ll ask one of the regs to write me an X-ray form.”
“How’s your knight in shining armour? Or should I say hospital gown?” Nat wiggled her eyebrows.
“He’s okay.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Nat asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“No,” Hel denied, shaking her head, but even to her own ears, her voice sounded regretful. “He’s my housemate.”
“Housemate with benefits?” Nat sounded hopeful.
“No!” Hel exclaimed. “The only benefit is me not being homeless.” An image of his lips brushing hers flitted across her mind, and she pushed it away.
“Shame. He’s a giant hunk of man. What does he do for work? He looks fit.” Nat wiggled her eyebrows and giggled.
“He’s just retired from playing professional ice hockey.” Where he swept her off her feet as if she weighed nothing.
“Nice. He didn’t sound Australian.”
“No. He’s Canadian. He’s over for a season and heading home in a few months.” Hel swallowed down a lump in her throat.
“That’s a shame. The way he sprung to your defence. Well, it made my heart race with excitement. That’s the kind of man you should try and keep.”
Hel didn’t say anything because all she wanted to do was agree. She wanted to keep him. Instead, she shrugged a noncommittal answer and said, “I should go and check in at triage.”
She escaped down the corridor before Nat could question her more, registered at the front desk and grabbed the plaster saw so she could check Frost’s leg.
“Frost,” Hel whispered and touched his shoulder. Her fingers lingered, even though she knew they shouldn’t.
She observed his sandy eyelashes flutter as he woke up. Why did boys—actually, in Frost’s case, she should say men—always have the nicest eyelashes? They were long and full with a small curve at the end. They were the kind of eyelashes she dreamed of, as her ginger ones were non-existent if she didn’t put some mascara on them.
Absentmindedly, she pushed some of her red hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. As she stared, his eyelids opened, revealing his emerald green eyes, which locked with hers.
“Hey,” he croaked.
“Hey, “ she replied. “I’m going to take the plaster off now to check your leg out.”
“Okay.”
Hel cleared her throat a couple of times before she said, “I need you to take your sweatpants off.”
