Page 102 of The Convict Gets His Girl

Chase turned her gently, his hands warm and steady on her arms. "Are you okay? You seemed a bit… distant at dinner."

Jewel swallowed hard. She wasn't ready to unpack the swirling emotions that had been brewing since he'd helped her with her napkin, since he'd kissed her cheek, since he'd been so attentive. She was so tired of pretending she was fine by herself, of hiding her physical struggles and loneliness.

"I'm just… exhausted," she admitted.

His thumb traced a gentle circle on her arm. "When was the last time you rested?"

She laughed, a brittle sound. "Rest? I'm a veterinarian. We don't rest."

"You need to," he said simply. Chase's hand moved from her arm to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along her jawbone. The last time she'd slept solidly had been… at the cabin with him Sunday night. She'd tossed and turned for days, plus the overnight shift hadn't helped.

He kissed her forehead and tears pricked her eyes. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, her lips finding his in the ever-darkening night.

The kiss was soft, tender and unlike their previous passionate encounters. Chase's hands remained gentle, cupping her face as if she were made of glass. When they parted, he studied her face, his eyes searching.

"You're pushing too hard," he murmured. "Pushing me away, trying to distract me. Pushing yourself."

She started to protest, but a wave of dizziness made her sway. Chase's muscular arms caught her immediately, supporting her weight.

"Easy," he whispered. "Let me help you."

Jewel wanted to argue, to prove she was strong and independent. But her body betrayed her, muscles trembling with exhaustion. Chase opened her truck door and helped her inside, his movements careful and precise.

"I'm taking you home," he said. It wasn't a question.

Her protest died on her lips as he buckled her seatbelt, then walked around to the driver's side. The familiarity of his care made her ache as she yawned. He started the truck and backed up, her body aching with a bone-deep weariness.

As he drove home, her body ached with a bone-deep weariness. But beneath the fatigue, something else stirred in her heart, something she was afraid to identify as love.

"You still don't have your license, do you?"

His knuckles gripped the steering wheel, but she couldn't see his face in the dark. "Nope," he said softly. "But there's no reason anyone should pull over your truck to find out."

Too tired to argue, she blinked. Then they were parking in the driveway at her dad's. She yawned. "What? That was fast."

He chuckled beside her. "I actually went under the speed limit. You passed out."

She shook her head as he opened the door and got out. She reached for her handle, and he opened the door, gathering her into his arms. He was so strong, and her arms went around his shoulders as he stopped on the front porch.

"Put me down. Dad will worry if you carry me inside."

Chase frowned in the soft light from the windows but did as she asked. "You're going to be alright now? You'll sleep in, take care of yourself? When's your next day off?"

She sighed, gently taking her keys from his hand. "Halloween, where I'm going to help decorate. But I'll talk to Dad and Gemma about coming in late tomorrow."

"Promise?" he asked, growling with his protective streak flaring. It was cute, and she reached up to pat his cheek.

"Promise, but how are you getting home?"

He jerked his head down the street. "Parker lives a short walk from here. I'll crash at his place tonight."

Chase leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips soft against hers, yet so full of promises, it made her ache.

His thumb traced her cheek as he stepped back. "Sleep well, my Jewel."

She watched him walk away, her body heavy with exhaustion but her heart unexpectedly light. When she opened the door, Henry was sitting in his armchair, reading a veterinary journal.

"You look like hell," he said without looking up.

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