The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(3)

I was sure it did.

But it was time to put a stop to this.

“He’s my dead boyfriend’s brother.”

“Ah,” she uttered knowingly, still wheeling. Her voice had gone from no-nonsense nosy to soft with nurse concern when she went on. “Sorry to hear about your loss, hon. When’d he die?”

“Seven years ago.”

She stopped wheeling.

“Uh…what?”

I twisted my neck to look up at her to see her staring down at me.

“Vinnie died seven years ago.”

“And you’re fakin’ sleepin’ when his hottie brother comes a-callin’ because of why?”

“Because Benny, the hottie brother, wants to talk,” I told her.

“About what?” she asked.

I had no clue.

But with the way he traced my lower lip with his thumb when he told me we were going to talk. With the way he picked me up off the forest floor and sprinted to his SUV with me in his arms after I was shot. With the way he caught my pass years ago when I was drunk after Vinnie died and stupidly, crazily, sluttily threw myself at him…

Well, with all that, I was thinking all this attention wasn’t about remembrance of sisterly love, what with the lip-tracing and tongues-tangling parts being included.

“I don’t know,” I shared with Cindy.

Her brows shot up. “And you faked sleepin’ and didn’t find out?”

“Yep.”

Her head tipped to the side and she deduced, “’Cause no boy who looks like that comes to the hospital every day for a girl who looks like you ’cause he’s keepin’ an eye on his seven-years-dead brother’s girlfriend.”

Indication that Cindy not only had seen it all, but she understood it.

“Something like that,” I conceded.

“Everything like that,” she returned.

She was right, but I didn’t confirm that fact.

“You’re not into him?” she asked, and I felt my eyes get wide.

“He’s Benny,” I said in response, figuring that said it all.

“He sure is,” she agreed, knowing it said it all because she’d seen him, repeatedly (though, once would do it).

“But he’s my dead boyfriend’s brother.”

“Girl,” she started, wheeling me toward the doors again, “God doesn’t care who you let in there, just as long as the feelin’s are honest when you let him in.”

I looked to my bag on my knees. “It’s my understanding God does care who you let in there.”

“Sure enough,” she replied. “But that’s not the there I’m talkin’ about. The there I’m talkin’ about is your heart.”

I was not going to get into this with my soon-to-be-ex nurse while she wheeled me to the taxi that would take me home after my hospital stay, so I pressed my lips together again.

I unpressed them when I felt her stutter step behind me and the wheelchair jerked slightly with her movement.

I also looked up when this happened.

And what I saw was Benny Bianchi in a white t-shirt that hugged his muscular torso in a way that made you jealous of that tee. He also had on faded jeans that fit loose in a way that only hinted at the power in those long legs (not to mention the power behind that package), making you want to get acquainted with both…intimately. He was leaning against his Explorer right outside the doors.

He had his arms crossed on his chest and shades over his dark brown eyes, but I knew those eyes were on me.

He was waiting on me.

Not parked illegally outside a hospital to come for a visit.

Waiting on me to be released.

“Uh…Cindy,” I muttered, eyes glued to Ben. “Did someone at the nurse’s station share with Benny when I’d be released?”

“He may have made that inquiry,” she evaded.

“And was it answered?” I asked, though the evidence it was was pushing away from his Explorer. It was then I knew why Cindy was wheeling me to the doors and not a nurse’s assistant or an orderly. She didn’t want to miss this or miss reporting back to the girls.

“Mm,” Cindy mumbled her evasion this time.

I couldn’t get pissed at this. Not because it wasn’t worthy of being pissed at, but because Benny was moving in our direction, we were moving in his, and all my attention was taken in concentrating on watching him move.

He moved well. He looked good. He was tall. He worked on his body and this work was extremely successful. He had a lot of thick, messy black hair. And he had a face that was movie star handsome in a way that, without a doubt, launched a million wedding fantasies, even from women who just caught a glimpse of him walking down the street.

My eyes remained locked on him as the doors swished open, and we trundled through at the exact same time Benny arrived at our location.

I opened my mouth to say something but didn’t get a word out, because Ben grabbed my bag from my lap and thrust it Cindy’s way with a murmured, “Could you hold that, darlin’?”

Cindy took it and I again opened my mouth to say something and, again, didn’t get a word out because Ben bent, shoved a hand under my knees, one around my waist, and lifted me into his arms.

But gently.

There was pain, but it was minimal. Mostly because it came with his strength and warmth and the smell of his aftershave.