But what kind of person would that make her, if she put her emotions above his life? This wasn’t a game he was playing. He’d already almost died. Axel had said he’d coded twice during surgery.
She would be endangering his life if she made him go.
She would be endangering her heart if she didn’t.
All of those thoughts and realizations were racing through her mind like strobe flashes. The inner turmoil of realization was so great that she felt the blood draining from her face, literally felt her flesh contracting. Morgan must have seen it because he started to his feet, caught himself and winced in pain, then forced himself upright. He moved fast, was beside her in three long strides. “What’s wrong?” he asked, cupping her elbows in his rough palms to catch her if she staggered.
Bo fought down her reaction, conquered it, regained her mental balance. No way would she let him guess what she was thinking. She had too strong an instinct for self-preservation for that. She blew out a breath. “I just got woozy. Low blood sugar, I guess; I didn’t stop to get anything to eat.”
He was frowning with concern. “Sit down, and I’ll get you something. What do you want? A sandwich?”
“Just a yogurt. It’s too close to dinner to eat a sandwich.” Dinner wasn’t the only thing that was too close; he was too close, too warm, too big. She didn’t want to notice that the top of her head didn’t reach his chin, or how broad his shoulders were. She didn’t want to see the faint line of a small scar on his jaw, or smell the hot man-scent of his skin. He was still holding her elbows, and she liked the feel of his hands on her skin, the heat of them. Oh, damn, this was bad. He needed to release her. She needed to move away.
Thank God, he let her go and went to the refrigerator to fetch the requested yogurt and a spoon. Bo went to the bar and eased onto one of the stools. She was shaking, both inside and out. He couldn’t know. He could never know. She had to suck it up, hide her feelings—no, she had to ignore those feelings, box them up and seal it tight, until even she couldn’t tell they were there.
He opened the yogurt container for her before he placed it in front of her, the piercing blue fire of his gaze searching her face. Keeping her expression bland, she said, “Thanks,” and put a spoonful in her mouth. Never before had she been so grateful to have something so ordinary to do.
“I’ve never got what it is women like about yogurt,” he commented, leaning his hip against the counter on the other side of the bar. He was still thin, but he had the easy grace of an athlete, someone who had trained his body far beyond the capabilities of most humans. What was he like when he was at full strength?
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. She wrenched her thoughts from that path and made herself shrug. “The texture is creamy. It’s easy, nothing that has to be prepared. When you don’t want a lot, it’s just enough.”
“The same can be said for peanut butter.”
“Do you like beef jerky?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So what’s appealing about gnawing on something with the texture of leather?”
He grinned, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “When you finish, you feel like you’ve accomplished something. Why didn’t you stop to eat? Worried about Tricks?”
She scoffed, rolled her eyes. “I knew Tricks would be fine. I was worried about you. I just could see you doing something when you were outside that pissed her off, then she’d get all huffy and not come back inside, and you’d hurt yourself trying to catch her.”
He laughed as he looked at the dog, who was lying on her back with all four feet in the air while she enthusiastically chewed on the bedraggled one-legged giraffe. “Yeah, she’s a terror.” He rubbed the side of his nose, his expression suddenly a little abashed. “You were right. For a dog, she’s damn brilliant.”
“I know,” she said smugly. “I’ve been dealing with her for two and a half years now.” Tricks’s intelligence wasn’t due to anything Bo personally had done, but she was still proud of the dog. She paused, and curiosity got the best of her. “What did she do?”
“I was trying to do too much and got a muscle spasm in my back. She wanted to go outside, and I couldn’t bend down to pick up her ball so I told her she’d have to put it in my hand. She did.” He slowly shook his head in amazement. “Every time. How did she understand that?”
“I don’t know. All I know is, she does. If she could talk and had opposable thumbs, she’d rule the world.” She finished the yogurt, slid off the stool to put the carton in the trash and the spoon in the dishwasher. “How’s your back now?”
He turned to face her, lounged against the counter again. “Better. I borrowed her ball and used it to work the kink out. She thought that was a hell of a lot of fun, trying to get the ball from under my back.”
Bo laughed because she could just picture it. Having someone on the floor on her level was one of Tricks’s favorite things. She would light up with glee . . . right before she pounced.
“So how did the meeting go?” he asked. “Given how long it took, I’m guessing not well.”
“Pretty good, actually. It was about the Goodings, of course, but we worked out a plan to handle the problem. Mayor Buddy is going to make Mr. Gooding an offer he can’t refuse.”
“Does it involve a horse’s head?”
She stifled a laugh. “Only if the Hobsons get involved. I hope it won’t come to that. We’re offering to drop the charges in exchange for Kyle signing the divorce papers and leaving Emily alone.”