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“I didn’t plan on spending my Christmas in hospital, but here we are.”
Strike glares, angry and embarrassed and in pain. “You don’t need to be here.”
Robin’s cool blue-grey gaze is implacable. “Would you rather Lucy?”
He looks away. “No.”
“Well, then.”
There’s a pause. Strike sighs. “I’m sorry, Robin.”
“Not your fault it’s icy. Let’s just get your wrist fixed.”
But then what?
She’s not done. “And then maybe you could...”
His heart hammers. “What?”
“Well. I thought you were about to kiss me.”
“Er, I was.”
“So. Let’s get you out of here, then.”
He grins. “Yeah.”