Chapter 4
“Couldn’t stay away?” the infuriating woman that he’d hoped to avoid said, as she grabbed a kitchen towel and ran it under the faucet.
“Yeah, that was it,” he said dryly, turning to make his escape when he suddenly found himself stumbling back as the small woman, who was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked, dragged him towards the kitchen table and before he could argue, he was being shoved down onto a wooden chair that wobbled to the side and threatened to drop him on his ass.
“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s have a look at that cut, shall we?” she said brightly as she dragged another chair closer, sat down and-
“Son of a bitch!”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t her fast ball,” she said with a sympathetic wince as she continued to clean the gash on his eyebrow and made him bite back another curse as the action caused a sharp sting to pierce his skull.
“Sure felt like one,” he said, reaching up to take over only to have his hand swatted away.
“It usually does,” she murmured as she leaned closer to get a better look at his cut and in the process giving him one hell of a view of lightly tanned breasts and a black lace bra that reminded him of the other reason that had brought him here on this fucked-up trip from hell.
Silently cursing, he shifted his gaze back up to her face and watched while she worried her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she carefully cleaned his cut. Having nothing better to do, he watched her, taking in her expressive baby blue eyes, the way she kept worrying her bottom lip as she worked, the barely-there laugh lines that told him just how easily and freely this woman smiled, the short jet black hair that almost matched his own and couldn’t help but wonder what she would look like if she let it grow out.
She was pretty in that bad girl kind of way, passably cute, and most importantly, nowhere near his type. He preferred women with long blonde hair, even longer legs, and who loved to be pampered. He quickly took in her v-neck black tee shirt, worn jeans, black boots and dismissed her as a problem. Now her friend on the other hand…
She definitely would have been a problem if it hadn’t been for that ring he’d spotted on her left hand earlier. She was exactly his type and that was something that he wanted to avoid this summer, he absently reminded himself as his gaze landed back on the top of those lightly tanned breasts. He wanted to clear his head and figure some shit out before-
“Ouch!” he snapped when the vicious woman pressed the towel against his cut harder than he felt was necessary.
“Eyes up here, Yummy,” she said with a teasing smile.
“I wasn’t looking,” he said, but of course he had been. She might not be his type, but she was still a woman and he was a man who appreciated a woman’s curves.
“It’s okay. I understand that I’m irresistible, but,” and here’s where she sighed dramatically, “I can’t help it,” she said before shooting him a wink and a smile that had him relaxing.
At least she didn’t look like she was going to hit him.
That was something.
Not a hell of a lot, but something, he decided as he forced himself to sit still while she cleaned his cut. It stung, but he’d had worse so he just sat there and let her work while he tried to come up with a suitable lie for the two assholes that were probably waiting to pounce on him, because there was no way in hell that he was admitting that a little girl had done this to him.
He could always tell them that he’d been injured when they’d tried to take him down with a headlock, he thought as he glanced around the large kitchen and couldn’t help but frown when he realized that the grey slashes on the cabinet doors and countertop was actually duct tape.
“Look, I’m sorry about this,” she said, as he took in the rest of the kitchen, noting all the wasted space, the outdated cabinets, and the layout that was all wrong for this room.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said absently as his attention moved to the tiles that had been placed down wrong. The lines didn’t match, most of the tiles were cracked and even with blood seeping into his eye he could tell that they weren’t even. Just looking at this mess made his head hurt.
“I think we should get you to the hospital,” she said, somewhat distracting him from the kitchen before he could think about all the changes that he would make if he had the chance.
“I’m fine,” he said, taking the cloth from her and pressing it to his head as he stood up.
He heard a small sigh and then found himself shoved back down onto the wobbly chair. “No, you’re not,” she said, as she momentarily left him to grab a handful of paper towels, a bottle of water, and a first aid kit.
“It’s just a cut,” he said, already over it. It hurt like hell, but he’d had worse. He just needed to pop a bottle of Advil, grab a beer, find a bed, and he’d be fine.
“I think it might need stitches,” she said when she came back and replaced the ruined towel with paper towels.
“I’ll live,” he said, shrugging it off as he held the paper towels against his head, absently noting that they were already soaked.
“I’m sure you will,” she said, gently tilting his head to the side so that she could finish cleaning the rest of the blood off his face. “But, to make sure that happens I think we should bring you to the emergency room.”
“I’m fine,” he said, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at the kitchen that offended his senses. Well, that and because his head was fucking pounding now and every few seconds he thought he was going to be sick or pass out, most likely both.
“Yeah, you look it,” she said grimly as she gave up trying to clean his face and took over pressing the paper towels to his cut when his hand started to tremble, letting him know that it might be time to call it a night.
“I’m fine,” he bit out, deciding to ignore the blood dripping down his face.
“So, you’re going to keep saying that until it’s true?” she asked, wiping away the blood running down his face only to have more take its place.
“That’s the plan,” he said with a resigned sigh as he opened his eyes and stood up, deciding that it was time to go while he still could. Before she could push him back down, he was plucking the bloody paper towels from her hand and heading towards what he hoped was the front door.
“Leaving so soon?” she asked, easily catching up to him and slapping a stack of napkins in his hand.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, pausing to swap the paper towels out and making note of the trail of blood he’d made on the carpet that he would have to deal with later when his head wasn’t fucking pounding.
“This breaks my heart, Yummy. It really does, but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to insist on taking you to the emergency room” she said with a resigned sigh as she grabbed a set of keys off the side table and gestured for him to go ahead of her.
“I’m-” he started to tell her that he was fine, but she apparently wasn’t having it, because she grabbed his arm, forced him to turn around and announced, “I can see your skull,” which of course explained quite a bit.
“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully as he was forced to reach out and grab onto the back of the couch when a shot of pain tore through his head, threatening to knock him on his ass.
“I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I really wish you hadn’t,” he admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to breathe through the pain, but god, did it fucking hurt.
“And I wouldn’t have, but you really didn’t give me much of a choice,” she said, as he once again found himself being shoved, this time down onto something a hell of a lot softer than the wobbly kitchen chair.
“Your kid has a hell of an arm on her,” he felt obligated to point out as he was forced to lie down on his side and wait for his head to explode.
“She gets it from her father,” she said proudly as he felt her switch out the bloody napkins for a towel.
“The man you were talking to in the kitchen?” he asked, wondering if that had been her husband.
“No, that’s her uncle. Her father passed away before she was born,” she explained, as he felt something cool pressed against his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said, because he honestly couldn’t imagine what it was like growing up without a father.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said, making him frown until he realized that the fucking move hurt.
“For what?”
“For this,” she said, as she pressed a bag of ice against his skull.
It took him a few seconds to understand why she was apologizing, but once that cold seeped into his throbbing skull, he understand perfectly, because that was right around the time that it felt like a sledge hammer slammed into his head and he was forced to roll over and make a lasting impression.