One corner of his mouth lifted. “So…sexy, then?”
She pursed her lips, unwilling to give it to him. “Just hoarse. Like you lost your voice at a football game or from a cold or something.”
He snapped his fingers. “Damn.”
“I guess that means the doctor said you were cleared to talk again?”
“Yep. Said I should go easy on it, though, and watch for signs of fatigue. As long as I don’t push it, it should get better every day.”
Claire patted his firm chest, the muscles flexed as he held himself up on the crutches. “Congrats. How does it feel?”
“Fucking awesome.”
“I bet. One injury down, one to go.”
He looked at his leg and blew out a breath. “I’m ready to be done with this one, too.”
“You’re off pain meds now. That’s a good sign. Another three weeks and the cast might come off.”
He groaned. “Three weeks is an eternity.”
“Now that you can speak again, that’s all I’m gonna hear, isn’t it? Complaining?”
Graham leaned in, though with his current volume it wasn’t necessary. “That and dirty talk.”
“I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
“It is. Trust me.”
Her stomach swooped, but she kept her face carefully neutral and grabbed her purse. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yep. After you, hot stuff.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“No? I’ve had a lot of time to think up pet names and haven’t had a chance to try any of them out yet.”
She held the door for him and slowed her pace so he could keep up through the parking lot. “No pet names.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not in a relationship!”
Suddenly he was no longer beside her, and she stopped to look back. He’d paused between two cars.
“I know. But doesn’t it feel a little different now? You’re not just Claire to me anymore. You’re not my girlfriend, but you’re not just my friend, either.”
She strained to hear him. “Are we in like…relationship purgatory?”
“I guess.”
Unsure what to say to that, she turned and kept walking to her car. “Regardless,” she finally tossed over her shoulder, “no pet names.”
He didn’t speak again until they were both in the car. She flipped the radio off so she could hear him. “I’ll find one you like, you’ll see.”
“Doubtful.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Anyway, I’m starving. Wanna stop somewhere to eat?”
She eyed him dubiously. “You sure you feel up to it? I thought you might want to go back and rest your leg.”
“I’ve tasted freedom. Never take me back!”
“You’d leave your dog?”
“Of course not. You can drop me off in the mountains somewhere and go back for her. We’ll live off the land.”
Claire let out a laugh. “Me, in the wilderness, with the two of you? Pass.”
He pouted. “Fine. I’ll settle for dinner out tonight.”
She checked the clock. “A little early for dinner, isn’t it?”
“Woman, I’m hungry and I can communicate again and I can see the sky. Don’t ruin this for me.”
With a snort, Claire turned onto the main road. “Right. Sorry. Let’s go have dinner with the rest of the septuagenarians. I know just the place.”
Graham smiled in satisfaction, leaned his head back and rolled down his window. His wavy, dark hair rustled around his forehead with the breeze and he rested his forearm on the window frame, opening his fingers to the air rushing by. In no time at all he went from teasing to content, lost in the open air and sounds of outside, even here in the city.
He really loved it, and Claire made a note to suggest they sit on the porch more often during the rest of his recovery.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of Tagine, a new Moroccan restaurant.
Graham eyed the sign. “This is ‘just the place’？”
“I’ve been wanting to try it. It just opened so it’s been super busy. I thought maybe at this time of day it wouldn’t be too bad.” The parking lot was still surprisingly full, but at least the sidewalk was void of waiting patrons.
“What kind of food is it?”
“Moroccan. Couscous, lamb, vegetables, that kind of thing.” Graham wasn’t quite as adventurous an eater as she was. Claire loved all types of food and would try anything once. “They’ll have meat kabobs or something you’ll like.”