That was exactly the problem.
Nobody should be allowed to be that nice without some kind of permit. There should've been paperwork involved, psychological evaluations, maybe a government agency making sure men like Elias weren't walking around freely ruining women's emotional defenses.
Instead he was standing in front of me covered in sweat and mud, genuinely concerned because I'd dropped a kitchen utensil.
I looked away first, like the complete coward I'd apparently become.
"You should shower."
For my sanity more than yours.
The words came out sharper than I'd intended.
Elias blinked, then looked down at himself, taking in the mud, the sweat and the general state of post-patrol disaster he'd brought into the kitchen.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Oh."
I immediately regret
