Monday morning, Zack walked into Trev’s hospital room to find the younger man half-dressed and frowning. Unexpectedly, Zack’s pulse quickened. Enough. Damn. I’ve seen him like this before. Several times yesterday, actually. Why this reaction now?
Willing himself to remain completely professional, Zack asked, “What’s the matter?”
Trev’s frown deepened. “I don’t have a shirt, thanks to the docs or someone cutting my tank off me when they brought me in here. And for damned sure I’m not wearing this—” he pointed disparagingly at the hospital gown, “—tucked into my jeans. At least I have them, thanks to whoever put them in the closet.”
“They could hardly have worked on your shoulder if they hadn’t removed your shirt.”
“Okay. Good point, I guess, but still…”
“Give me a minute and I’ll find
