“I don’t care,” he said and shifted, waiting for Toby to start dressing the wound. He didn’t move, though, just sat on the other barstool staring at Hart, his hands gingerly cradled in his lap, making sure the gloves, scissors and tweezers didn’t touch anything.
“Chick’s dig scars, right?” Toby said, and Hart laughed, knowing he was fishing.
“Chicks are safe from me.” Hart averted his gaze. Why had he said that? Even if Toby was neither a witness nor a perpetrator in this case, he was still part of it, which meant he was off-limits. Not smiling at the way Toby’s eyes had lit up, however, turned out to be very hard.
“I’ll remember that,” Toby murmured, and he began redressing Hart’s arm. The muscles under his shirt bunched and flexed, and Hart saw no reason to look away. “When I’m done I think we should do your chest too, just to keep it covered for another day or two so the fibers of your clothes don’t end up causing an infection.”
“Okay.” Hart prayed to whoever happened to be listening that Toby didn’t notice his skin pebble into goose bumps at the thought of Toby’s hands all over his chest. Was he seriously developing a pathetic crush on his doctor, for Christ’s sake?
A spare and slightly guilty thought of Isaac was pushed aside. This had nothing to do with him. Hart had nothing to with him.
“Those painkillers should’ve kicked in by now.” Toby ducked his head, trying to catch Hart’s eye, eyebrows drawn down. “You’re still terribly pale. Did you get any sleep last night?”
He’d pretty much passed out with his phone pressed to his ear after talking to Isaac, so yes. “I’m all right.” He wasn’t about to explain away the paleness as part of his hangover. “Or I will be.” Hart flexed his fingers around the bandages. They were expertly tied, neither too loose nor too tight, but that didn’t exactly come as a surprise. “I’ve taken enough of your time.”
“It’s no trouble. I don’t live far from here. You can drive to the hospital with me. I’m sure Freddie won’t mind picking you up there.” Toby helped him stand, and then lifted Hart’s arm onto his own shoulder so he could wrap gauze around his waist. “Hold your arm there.”
“My dad’s car is in the garage. The keys must be… somewhere.”
“Well, let’s check first to make sure.”
Toby’s concern was oddly touching. “So, you said Mr. Drake doesn’t have any family?”
“You’re going to interrogate me now, Lieutenant?”
Hart ducked his head. They stood so close like this. He could smell Toby’s shampoo when he bent his head to check the bandage, a woodsy scent that reminded Hart of those early mornings on the Mountain, dew clinging to everything as he woke.
“It’s just a question.”
“I don’t think anything is ever just a question with you.” Toby put his hands on Hart’s waist, just underneath the wrappings, and left them there. “Do you expect to be in town long?”
“Just until Monday. That was the original plan anyway, before—”
“Before Ben happened.” Toby smiled a little sadly. “He’s not going to wake up.”
“It would be a hell of a breakthrough in the case if he did.”
“Do you remember anything from the moment the bomb went off yet?”
Hart opened his mouth, closed it again, and laughed reluctantly. “Point taken.”
Toby smiled mischievously and moved his thumb over Hart’s skin. “Do you think we could—” They both startled when Hart’s phone rang, Toby’s hands drawing him closer momentarily.
“Toby,” Hart said over the ringing of the phone. “I like you, but I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“Say no more.” Toby took a step back with a wry smile, and Hart answered his phone.
“Hey, it’s Freddie. How’s it going?”
“I’m all right. Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. Just checking to see if you need a lift somewhere.”
“Ah. Uh, no, I—Toby’s here to take me to the hospital if
“Chick’s dig scars, right?” Toby said, and Hart laughed, knowing he was fishing.
“Chicks are safe from me.” Hart averted his gaze. Why had he said that? Even if Toby was neither a witness nor a perpetrator in this case, he was still part of it, which meant he was off-limits. Not smiling at the way Toby’s eyes had lit up, however, turned out to be very hard.
“I’ll remember that,” Toby murmured, and he began redressing Hart’s arm. The muscles under his shirt bunched and flexed, and Hart saw no reason to look away. “When I’m done I think we should do your chest too, just to keep it covered for another day or two so the fibers of your clothes don’t end up causing an infection.”
“Okay.” Hart prayed to whoever happened to be listening that Toby didn’t notice his skin pebble into goose bumps at the thought of Toby’s hands all over his chest. Was he seriously developing a pathetic crush on his doctor, for Christ’s sake?
A spare and slightly guilty thought of Isaac was pushed aside. This had nothing to do with him. Hart had nothing to with him.
“Those painkillers should’ve kicked in by now.” Toby ducked his head, trying to catch Hart’s eye, eyebrows drawn down. “You’re still terribly pale. Did you get any sleep last night?”
He’d pretty much passed out with his phone pressed to his ear after talking to Isaac, so yes. “I’m all right.” He wasn’t about to explain away the paleness as part of his hangover. “Or I will be.” Hart flexed his fingers around the bandages. They were expertly tied, neither too loose nor too tight, but that didn’t exactly come as a surprise. “I’ve taken enough of your time.”
“It’s no trouble. I don’t live far from here. You can drive to the hospital with me. I’m sure Freddie won’t mind picking you up there.” Toby helped him stand, and then lifted Hart’s arm onto his own shoulder so he could wrap gauze around his waist. “Hold your arm there.”
“My dad’s car is in the garage. The keys must be… somewhere.”
“Well, let’s check first to make sure.”
Toby’s concern was oddly touching. “So, you said Mr. Drake doesn’t have any family?”
“You’re going to interrogate me now, Lieutenant?”
Hart ducked his head. They stood so close like this. He could smell Toby’s shampoo when he bent his head to check the bandage, a woodsy scent that reminded Hart of those early mornings on the Mountain, dew clinging to everything as he woke.
“It’s just a question.”
“I don’t think anything is ever just a question with you.” Toby put his hands on Hart’s waist, just underneath the wrappings, and left them there. “Do you expect to be in town long?”
“Just until Monday. That was the original plan anyway, before—”
“Before Ben happened.” Toby smiled a little sadly. “He’s not going to wake up.”
“It would be a hell of a breakthrough in the case if he did.”
“Do you remember anything from the moment the bomb went off yet?”
Hart opened his mouth, closed it again, and laughed reluctantly. “Point taken.”
Toby smiled mischievously and moved his thumb over Hart’s skin. “Do you think we could—” They both startled when Hart’s phone rang, Toby’s hands drawing him closer momentarily.
“Toby,” Hart said over the ringing of the phone. “I like you, but I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“Say no more.” Toby took a step back with a wry smile, and Hart answered his phone.
“Hey, it’s Freddie. How’s it going?”
“I’m all right. Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. Just checking to see if you need a lift somewhere.”
“Ah. Uh, no, I—Toby’s here to take me to the hospital if
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