“But I’m still on the list?” Fielding gives her a pointed look and tries to wink, only to end up cursing because his eye’s so swollen.

Dumbass. Serves him right.

Maddie puts her hands on her hips and turns to me. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t pass out in the shower. You go take care of your mom and find me when you’re done.”

With that, she turns on her heel and holds out one arm, indicating Fielding should lead the way. They disappear down a long hall toward his section of the house.

Okay then.

18. Maddie

Chapter 18

Maddie

I helped him out of his shirt, assuming he’d struggle with it, having dislocated his shoulder only an hour ago. Then I wandered around his bedroom while he got in the shower.

I found clean underwear and athletic shorts in one of his dresser drawers, then left them on the sink for him to put on himself. There’s a vanity at one end of the bathroom, making it easy to stay close without getting right up in his business.

Of course, he tried to flash me his junk more than once. And I’m woman enough to admit that I was tempted to look. Mostly because I’m curious. Dempsey and Fielding are identical twins: so does that mean they’re identical everywhere?

I decided against peeking and griped at him for indecent exposure instead. I still intend to see what the full Haas package looks like, but I want to see it on the other twin.

Now Fielding’s sitting on the counter, shirtless, while I stand between his legs and clean the cuts and scrapes on his upper body. His forearms and hands are achingly familiar: I’ve drooled over his brother’s for the last week, wanting nothing more than the arms that match these to pin me against a wall of bricks and do all sorts of delicious things to my body.

“You could be a nurse when you grow up, Little Wheeler,” Fielding murmurs as I clean a gash above his eyebrow that is somehow still bleeding. He really could use a few stitches in this one, but no one has mentioned anything about going to the hospital.

“That’s sexist,” I murmur, pressing down on the gauze until he hisses in pain.

“Fine. You could be a lady doctor. Happy?”

“That’s even more sexist!” Heat flares in my cheeks until I see the glint in his unswollen eye.

He’s goading me.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asks.

I look through the bandage options spread out on the countertop, deciding on a butterfly closure for his eyebrow.

“I’m going to be a lawyer.”