Cally’s home was the most luxurious apartment I’d ever seen. It was clear this woman had expensive and fine taste when it came to furnishings and decor. Everything was either marble, stainless steel, glass, or hardwood. And everything had its place. The woman was a neat freak.

“Bathroom’s that way.” She pointed. “Let me just grab some supplies.”

It had taken fifteen minutes to drive over, and by then, my initial adrenaline had worn off and I was sweating bullets. The pain was bad, though I didn’t admit it out loud. Last thing I wanted was for her to think I was a pussy. I had a feeling I’d need at least one or two stitches after all, something I was both dreading and relishing. The thought of Cally running her curiously thin hands across my bare skin gave me wicked delight. It’d been years since a woman touched me. But at the same time, I didn’t want Cally to see my scars. And I had so, so many of them. Some were decades old. Others I’d received in prison. Some, I inked over. Others, I left alone. Seeing them all together, on one canvas, would intimidate anyone. I had no doubt it would offend Cally’s delicate sensibilities.

Cally returned with a first aid kit and several towels. She spread the towels out on her bathroom floor, overlapping them. “Lie down and take off your pants.”

“Now there’s something I never thought you’d say to me,” I said, winking. “Can you turn around at least?”

Cally pivoted away from me and began rummaging through her first aid kit. I unbuckled my belt and tugged it off. Even that slightest of movements sent a sharp, searing pain down to my thighs. I struggled to unbutton, then unzip my fly, grunting all the while.

“Do you need help?”

I didn’t want help, but I needed it. My stiff arms were locking up, and it hurt to bend my body. My knees felt weak and I was light-headed, probably from shock or seeing all that blood earlier. The sight of blood always nauseated me. I swallowed hard, then grumbled, “Yes.”

Cally turned around and looked at me, a smile inching along her face. She was amused by my pain.

I must’ve looked like an idiot with my fly down and my butt cheeks bleeding. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

Cally bridged the distance between us in two steps and gingerly hooked her fingers around my waistband. “Let me know if I hurt you,” she said breathily.

I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting her to yank down the fabric in one quick motion, but instead, she went slowly, careful not to touch my wound. Her fingers brushed against my hipbone, and I startled, mostly because her skin was so cool and mine so feverish.

“Still okay?” she asked, her voice now a soft whisper.

I gulped air. “Yeah.”

The situation was probably as awkward and nerve-wracking for her as it was for me. Several torturous minutes later, the pants came off. I felt as if my heart had been twisted out of its cage. She left my briefs on at least, though I suspected those had to come off as well at some point. I was seriously considering going to the hospital, because the last thing I wanted was for Cally to play doctor. I wasn’t even sure if she was qualified. But mostly, I was ashamed of how my scars looked. I’d had no problems showing off my body before, but with Cally, everything was different. It was almost like if she scrutinized me harder, she’d break down all my walls. I couldn’t have that. I decided a long time ago that my heart would be an impenetrable fortress. I intended to keep it that way. Yes, Cally was sexy as hell. Yes, she was being nice to me when she had absolutely no reason to be. But she was also the daughter of my enemy, which made her off-limits. I couldn’t help the lust I felt towards her, but lust was all I’d ever let myself feel towards Rayner’s daughter.

“Lie on your front. Then I’ll take your underwear off, okay?” Tension quivered in her voice, and I knew she was just as apprehensive as me.

“I feel so exposed,” I groaned. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured my night going.” I gripped the edge of the bathtub and slowly sank to my knees. Stretching out was harder than I thought it’d be, and every muscle in my body vocalized its opposition.

Cally rested a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy.” She gripped my waist and helped me lower myself down further. “Go slow. No rush.” I wasn’t used to this new tenderness in her voice, but I kind of liked it, despite my better judgment. I quickly reminded myself not to fall in love with her voice. I couldn’t afford to get attached to her.

Once I was prone on the floor, Cally began peeling up my t-shirt. I shook my head. “No. Keep my shirt on.”

But it was too late. She’d already seen something, because I heard her sharply suck in air. “Ryder…”

“Don’t. Ask.”

“How can I not? What the hell happened, Ryder?”

I had no doubt she was referring to the ragged tessellation of raised bumps, pits, and welts etched across my lower back. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever.”

“When—”

“A lifetime ago.”

“Who—”

“Not important. Can you just get on with it?”

Cally sucked in a sharp breath. Then, she snapped on a pair of disposable gloves and began sterilizing my wound. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Fire licked me everywhere, and I felt as if I was being burned alive. “What the hell was that? Acid?”

“Just diluted Betadine. I’ve got to clean this cut. It’s deeper than I thought. Hold still.” She continued to shoot a syringe full of liquid on the wound, and I bit back the urge to swear.

“This might sting a little,” Cally warned.

“I can handle it.”

“You screamed when I cleaned it,” Cally pointed out. She held up a curved needle and began threading it in.

“How many stitches?” I grunted, trying to force down the bitter taste in my mouth.

“At least four. Maybe more.”

“Make it quick.”

“I can’t. I need to be thorough or else you might get an infected wound. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“You mock my pain.”

“If you hadn’t pulled a gun on me, you wouldn’t need these stitches in the first place.”

I tried to push myself up off the ground. Her bathroom tiles were insanely cold, and I fought back the urge to vomit. “You know what? I changed my mind. I want to go to the hospital.”

“The nearest one is six miles away. How’re you going to get there? Limp?” Cally eased my head back down again until my cheeks brushed against the soft threads of her towel. “Just calm down and let me do my work.”

Despite all the immature ass jokes that ensued, Cally was surprisingly gentle and efficient. Her sutures were neat, and the piercing needle wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. When she was done, she placed a bandage on my right butt cheek and smoothed it out. “There. All done.”

I tried to get up, but my limbs had fallen asleep. When I finally struggled back onto my feet, I examined myself in her full-length mirror while Cally’s back was turned. “Not bad. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“First aid training. I was top of my class. And Dad took me on hunting trips a lot as a kid, so I—”

At the mention of her father, silence fell between us.

I struggled to push my feet through the leg hole of my pants. Cally stopped me and held out a towel. “Don’t wear those. They’re filthy and ripped. I’ll get you a new pair tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to walk around in bloody underwear, Cally.”

“Take those off too. You can wear my PJs for now.”

“You’re half my size.”

“Hardly. Besides, they’re loose and stretchy.”

“Does this mean I’m sleeping over tonight?” I asked, wrapping a towel around my waist.

Cally chewed her lip for a moment. “Only for tonight. Then we part ways in the morning. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. You saved my ass. Literally and figuratively.” Relief flooded through me. I’d been dreading the thought of limping back to the library with five stitches on my ass.

Cally made her way to her bedroom and I followed suit. The bedroom was dominated by a queen-size, four-poster bed and a walk-in closet. Cally strolled into her massive closet, which was big enough to be a second bedroom, and pulled out a pair of pink pajama bottoms. She threw the fleecy pair at me and I caught them. “You want me to wear these?”

“Like hell I’m going to let you walk around my place half naked!” Cally said. “Yes, I need you to wear these.”

“Don’t you have anything less…pink?”

“Nope.” Cally smirked. “Don’t worry, no one will see limping around in Hello Kitty PJs. Other than me, of course.”

My cheeks flamed. She was teasing me. Maybe even flirting with me. Somehow, tending to my injuries had softened her. I wasn’t about to complain. But I wasn’t about to let her have the last laugh either. Before she could turn around, I dropped the towel and kicked it away in one swift motion. The jerk of my legs brought the pain back in my butt cheek, but it was worth it just to see Cally’s face grow ten shades redder. “You could’ve given me a warning!” she cried, turning away.

I shook out her PJ bottoms. “And you could’ve given me something that wasn’t Hello Kitty.” With great difficulty, I managed to pull the PJ bottoms on. They were a bit too short for me, and a bit too tight around the crotch, but the fabric felt amazing against my skin. “You can look now.”

Cally turned around and burst into laughter. She laughed so hard, in fact, that she doubled over onto her bed. “I need a picture of this.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned her.

Cally reached for her phone. “Dangerous criminal showcases latest Hello Kitty fashion.”

“Quit it.”

“Ex-con models Hello Kitty lingerie,” Cally continued, snapping another photo.

Despite feeling humiliated, I was relieved to hear her laughter. Things between us had been tense throughout the entire night, even dangerous. Yet somehow, we ended up like this. How the hell, I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to question anything at the moment. I was too damn tired.

“Where am I sleeping tonight? I don’t think you want to risk me bleeding all over your cream sofa,” I pointed out.

I eyed her massive bed, lined with six, yes, six pillows. It looked inviting, and it’d been years since I slept in a proper bed.

Cally noticed me gawking at her bed and shook her head. “Nuh-uh. No way.”

“You’d make your guest sleep on the cold floor?” I asked. “Not very hospitable for a hospitality major.”

“You’re not my guest. And my floor is preferable to a cold bench outside.”

I shrugged. “Fine. Any sheets or a blanket at least?”

“I’ll go find some. Give me a second.” After Cally disappeared into the living room, I curled up on the plush rug at the foot of her bed and tried to get some shut eye. I planned to close my eyes for a few seconds, but somehow, when I opened them again, I found a pillow underneath my head and a comforter draped over my body. Nearby, I heard Cally’s soft breathing. In the curtained darkness, I inhaled the heady lavender scent that filled her bedroom and realized that despite all the terrible things I’d done to her, Cally still took me in and helped me out. I didn’t deserve her kindness, and certainly not her laughter, but I was grateful all the same.

Despite everything, she was warming up to me. I had no idea why, and I didn’t care. I was just happy to be alive and well and to have a roof over my head. At least for the night.