John Sandford - Winter Prey

"Shelly's just taking care of business," Lucas said mildly. He was amused.

"I know. I had a little talk with him about his wife, by the way. I suggested that they both might be better off divorced."

"What'd he say?"

"He said, 'Divorce is a sin.' "

After a few minutes he said, "Push the door shut."

She looked at the door, then stepped over, pushed it shut, sat on the bed next to him, kissed him. He couldn't turn his head much, but he could move his arm, and he held her to him as long and hard as he could.

She finally pulled away, laughing, straightened her hair.

"Jeez, it's hard not to take advantage of you, a man in your condition," she said.

"Hey. I don't hurt all that bad. So come back here." He tried to reach for her, but she danced away.

"I wasn't referring to your getting shot. I was referring to the fact that you're falling in love with me."

"I am?"

"Take my word for it," she said. She stepped closer, bent over, kissed him lightly on the forehead. He tried to reach for her again, but she danced away. "Try to get some rest. You're probably gonna need it when you get out."

"You've got a sense of humor like a cop," Lucas said. "Nasty. And you hide behind it. Like a cop."

She'd been smiling, but now the smile narrowed, turned uncertain. "I guess I do."

"Because you're right. I am falling in love with you. You don't have to be funny about it."

This time she touched him on the tip of the nose and said, "Get well." She was smiling, but seemed to have tears in her eyes, and she left in a hurry.

Lucas drifted for a while, punched up the TV, turned it off, used the bed-lift control to raise his head. He could see out the window, across the lawn toward the town, with the small houses and the smoke curling out of the chimneys. Not much to see: white snow, blue sky, small houses.

And it was bitterly cold, everybody said, the worst cold of the winter.

From inside it didn't look so bad. From inside, it looked pretty good. He smiled and closed his eyes.