Snowbound - Harlequin.com

86 SNOWBOUND
“Not what the physical therapist had in mind,
but…yeah.”
He allowed himself to relax, too. Despite the way
she’d flinched when he snapped at her, she wasn’t
looking at him as if she saw a monster.
“Did you come to wake me?”
He dipped his head. “I did knock.”
Fiona made a face. “I should have warned you. I
sleep like the dead.”
Not like the dead. He knew what dead people
looked like.
She saw his face, and her expression shifted subtly
as she remembered what she’d been reading. He could
tell; her gaze slid from him to the book beside her. “I’m
sorry,” she said again.
“Quit that,” he said harshly.
Still sitting up in bed, the comforter across her lap,
she stared at him with those startlingly clear eyes.
“Quit what…?”
“Apologizing.” John swallowed, softened his voice.
“You didn’t say or do anything to apologize for.”
“I wasn’t apologizing.” She swung her legs over so that
they dangled off the bed. “I was expressing sympathy.”
“Because I limp? Because I’m scarred?”
Her eyes flashed. “Because I could tell you were remembering
something bad. Why would you assume
the worst of me?”
How did he say, Because I’m so damned mired in
self-pity, I assume that’s what people feel when they
look at me? He couldn’t. Didn’t want to.
“My turn to apologize.” He sounded stiff.