A Cosmic Kind of Love(51)

“Everything all right out there?” Chris called out.

Oh my God.

I’d just tripped over Bandit because I’d been staring at Chris naked.

“I’m fine.” It sounded weak even to my ears.

Chris hurried out of his room, wearing only a pair of pajama pants, his brows drawn together. He let out a curse at the sight of me on the floor and lowered himself beside me as I pushed myself up. My wrist throbbed, and I flinched.

“Bandit, get off.” Chris gently pulled the dog away by the collar. “What happened? Are you okay?” He brushed my hair off my face, my skin sensitive to the touch of his fingertips.

Mortified, I couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m a klutz. Tripped over the dog. I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, why are you holding your wrist like that? Let me see.”

He took hold of it, and I winced as a burn of pain flared down the outside of my wrist and arm. I finally allowed myself to meet his concerned gaze. I felt awful for spying on him. An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t get the words out. It was much too embarrassing.

“I think you’ve sprained it. We need to get some ice on it.”

“I’m okay.” I tried to push to my feet, but Chris took over.

I sucked in a breath as he took hold of my good hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist to help me up. It put me against his naked chest. He was still warm and damp from his run.

Swallowing hard, trying to breathe normally, I forced a little distance between us as soon as I was on my feet. “I’m really okay.”

“You will be when we get ice on it,” he replied firmly, not letting go of my hand.

He led me downstairs as I cradled my sore wrist against my chest.

Of course this would happen to me.

The universe was always watching. Karma was always there to give you a swift kick on the ass for ogling a gorgeous, naked astronaut (and client) without his permission.

“Oh no, what happened?” Richelle was loading the dishwasher as Chris pulled me into the kitchen.

“She tripped over Bandit.”

“That damn big goofball. He’s taken me out in the past too. I’m sorry, Hallie.”

“No, it’s okay. It was my fault.” I ducked my head. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Chris released me but only to grab a tea towel and hold it under the ice dispenser in the freezer. He folded the towel around the ice and then handed it to me. “Sit. Ice it for twenty minutes. We’ll see how it is then.”

“I told you I’m fine. Just embarrassed for causing a fuss.”

He lifted my chin with the gentle touch of his fingers until our eyes met. He smiled warmly into mine. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Bandit, on the other hand, should feel pretty sheepish.”

I chuckled, relaxing a little.

Until I remembered he was half-naked.

My gaze unwillingly dropped to his chest.

The memory of his full nakedness made me hot all over again.

Chris took a step back, and the hoarseness in his voice when he said he’d return after his shower forced me to look at him.

I was pretty sure the heat in his eyes was not my imagination.

Oh.

Oh okay.

Hope unfurled in my chest.

Then he pivoted and strode out of the room, and I tried not to picture his naked ass again and failed.

“Another coffee? Maybe an aspirin for the pain?” Richelle’s voice reminded me I wasn’t alone.

She grinned at me in a way I knew my thoughts were written all over my face.

Crap.

Covering my discomfiture, I turned away, pressing the ice to my wrist. “Sure, thanks.” I squeaked out.





TWENTY





Hallie


The ice helped, but my wrist was still a little sore as we sat outside to enjoy lunch on the backyard patio. It had turned into a warm day, reminding me that summer really was just around the corner. We’d decided to grab some lunch before driving back to Brooklyn.

Culinary master that she was, Richelle served these amazing homemade crab cake sandwiches with bread she’d baked herself. I needed to learn how to cook and bake. Or at least marry someone who could.

“I’ve never asked, but how exactly does one become an astronaut?” I said to Chris after swallowing a bite of my sandwich. “Specifically, how did you become an astronaut from being a pilot in the air force?”

Chris shrugged and wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin before he replied, “I was a test pilot and worked with NASA. It happened from there.”

Richelle snorted. “I think Hallie wants the entire story.” She turned to me. “Everyone expected, with his genius-level grades, he would attend MIT or Harvard or Stanford, but he followed his brother into the Air Force Academy.”

Chris smirked at her before turning those swoony dark brown eyes on me. “I graduated as a systems engineer from the academy. An important qualification in my selection to NASA.”

Fascinated, I asked, “And you made captain in the air force really young, right?”

“In four years, which is the shortest time period you can make captain,” Richelle answered proudly. “He trained as a tactical fighter pilot, was on active duty for four years, and made captain by the age of twenty-seven.”