It wasn’t at all my imagination that Rip leaned into me or that his fingers grazed the top of my hand as he asked, “You want to go to the doctor?” There was something about his voice that had me wanting to close an eye. “I’m thinking about it. I’m sure that jerk’s insurance will reimburse me for it.” “It will,” Mr. Cooper claimed from his seat up front. The fingertips went back to the top of my hand. He didn’t even try to lower his voice. “I’ll take you when we get back.” I didn’t tense up my forearm as his fingers lingered over my knuckles, and unlike him, I did tell him quietly, “I’m okay.”
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Like he cracks me up
