2
Twenty minutes later, I pulled my van into the parking lot of the ER, Jack strapped into the passenger seat. It was the business van, full of tools and pipe. ‘Pete's Plumbing’ was painted across the outside in black cursive. I'd tossed on clothes—jeans, turtleneck and sweatshirt, heavy winter coat, boots and gloves. I'd tucked my snarled wet hair up under a thick wool hat so it wouldn't freeze.
We hadn't said too much since the breast baring incident. I kept silent because I was too angry to say anything. I wanted to give him another whack for being so obnoxious. I was also embarrassed I'd had a wardrobe malfunction mid-attack, but halting an intruder had been my first priority. I'd thought about getting naked with Jack, many, many times, but that boob-flashing hadn't been what I’d had
