CHAPTER TWENTY
Her resistance faded as quickly as it had risen. “The stuff’s out on the table,” she said, her teeth starting to chatter.
“Okay, come on. We’ll do this on the bed so you can lay down.” It was brief, but he saw the look of gratitude cross her face. Exhaustion was setting in, and he needed to get her comfortable. He helped her out of the bathroom, taking most of her weight and guiding her onto the bed.
He scooped up the gauze and tape along with a photocopied sheet of doctor’s instructions for wound care and carried it to the bed. He read as he dumped everything on the mattress next to her before getting to work. She had bandages everywhere, and it just wasn’t feasible to leave the t-shirt on, so Gannon stripped it off.
“Damn it, Gannon!” Paige reached for the bed sheet to cover herself.
“Honey, I’ve already seen it all, and I’m really looking forward to seeing it all again when you’re healed up. So let’s hurry the process along.” He tore a piece of tape into fours with his teeth and adhered them to the sheet.
She muttered something about being ridiculous under her breath while he worked as quickly as he could moving from bandage to bandage. She’d needed stitches in two places and had the equivalent of road rash in several spots. The slice across her calf was the worst of it, deep and angry looking. Nearly a dozen stitches held the wound shut.
“They said it would probably scar,” Paige said into her pillow.
“Scars just mean you’re tough,” Gannon told her, gently securing a fresh strip of gauze to the wound.
“Malia said you told her that.”
“That is one tough kid.” He sealed the tape around the gauze.
“The bed you’re making for her is amazing.”
Gannon raised his hand intending to smack Paige on the ass to have her roll over and then thought better of it. “Back’s all done. Roll for me.”
She started to roll and let out a muffled yelp before slowly complying.
“Almost done, honey,” he promised softly.
He worked quickly trading out old gauze for fresh on her arm, hip, and thigh, before helping her back into his t-shirt. She was still shivering, so he pulled the covers up to her neck.
He found the bottle of pain meds in the pharmacy bag. “How many of these are you supposed to take?”
She shook her head. “I don’t like that stuff. Makes my head fuzzy.”
“You’ve got to be in pain.”
She attempted a sad one-shoulder shrug. “It’s not so bad. I’m fine.”
Stubborn to the point of idiocy, Gannon thought. He could respect that. He found a bottle of ibuprofen in the bag and dumped three into his hand and prodded her arm on a square inch of unbruised skin. “Over the counter,” he promised.
She tossed them back and washed them down with an open bottle of water. Once she started drinking, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head and handed the empty bottle back to him. Paige was as pale as the pillows beneath her.
“When did you eat last?” he prompted.
“Ugh. I don’t know,” she said, closing her eyes. “Breakfast?”
“You don’t eat breakfast,” he reminded her.
“I forgot. Then it was dinner last night. I was going to have lunch after the kids…” She trailed off as if the effort to speak was too much for her.
He swore quietly. “You need a damn babysitter,” he muttered, reaching for the phone on the nightstand and fishing out the room service menu from the drawer. He dialed the front desk and ordered for both of them.
She didn’t even attempt to argue with him, and that worried Gannon. He went back in the bathroom and pulled on his underwear and jeans. By the time he came back out, Paige was dozing. He sat on the mattress next to her and pulled out his phone and texted Cat. He’d finally connected with his sister after showing up at the hospital and being told that thanks to HIPAA the ER desk couldn’t confirm if Paige St. James was a patient. Thankfully Cat had finally answered her damn phone before Gannon had deemed it necessary to yank the doors off their hinges and go looking for Paige himself. She was in the pharmacy picking up the newly discharged Paige’s prescription and had given him what details there were to be had.
Paige had saved the little boy’s life. That part was clear. The kid would probably be scared shitless of thunderstorms for the rest of his life, but he was going to have a rest of his life thanks to the woman next to him who wiggled a little closer to his heat.
For the first time since he’d nearly ripped her shower curtain down, Gannon let himself take a deep breath. Paige was alive and, after a carefully monitored recovery, she was going to be fine. He rubbed a hand over his chest. He hoped to God his heart would recover, too. He’d thought the worst, had fought those demons on the drive back, holding on to that terror until he saw her with his own eyes.
He distracted himself by perusing the doctor’s instructions on recovery and wound care.
His phone vibrated against his leg.
Tony’s got footage of it if you want to see it. Pretty messed up.
Before he could fire off a pissed off reply about what the hell Tony was doing standing around filming the disaster rather than helping Paige, Cat texted again.
Calm down, Lover Boy. It’s not what you think. Tony ended up playing hero. Saved a little girl and dug Paige out. But the second the network heard about the accident, they demanded the footage. No way it’s not making it into the show.
Paige would be pissed and humiliated. Gannon had no doubt about that. And it would also mean Paige sitting through some lengthy, invasive interviews to milk it for every ratings point possible. That pissed him off.
There was a knock at the door, and Paige stirred next to him.
He levered himself off the mattress and answered the door. Room service consisted of a scarecrow of a kid with a shock of white blonde hair and a face full of freckles.
Gannon cut the small talk short and took the tray from the kid before sending him on his way with a ten spot.
“Oh, hell. Did you answer the door like that?” Paige demanded from the bed.
He looked down at his bare chest and unbuttoned jeans, shrugged. “Princess, again, you’ve got bigger problems. Besides, the kid’s more likely to be a fan of Cat than me.”
She sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“My burger and onion rings. I got you chicken noodle soup.”
“Awh.”
“Serves you right for being a health food snob.”
They ate side-by-side against the upholstered headboard, and she shot longing looks at him until he finally ripped off part of his burger and gave it to her.
“Happy now?”
“Mmm,” she sighed, eyes closed to savor every bite. “Okay, chewing made me tired.” Energy gone, Paige slumped back against the pillows.
“Bed time,” Gannon agreed. He cleaned up the dishes and left the tray in the hallway. Tomorrow was going to be a long ass day, starting with a conversation he was going to have with Andy during which he would make it crystal clear that no one was going to turn Paige’s accident into ratings.
He turned off the lights in the room and secured the locks before shucking off his pants and climbing under the covers next to Paige. She felt like an ice cube under the sheet, and he shifted closer, offering her his heat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she yawned. She had no energy to fight him, and Gannon sure as hell wasn’t leaving her to sleep by herself.
“I’m sleeping here. Don’t bother trying to argue.”
“This is also not how I pictured our first time in bed together.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “That makes two of us,” he admitted and immediately tried to stop thinking about how he had pictured their first time in bed together.
Paige went quiet, and after a minute or two, he thought she’d fallen asleep. But she tried to roll to her side and muffled a yelp of pain.
“What are you trying to do?” he asked gruffly.
“Get comfortable.” Pain and exhaustion laced her tone yet still no complaints from her.
Gannon slid an arm under her and carefully pulled her against him, her back to his chest, her ass nestled against his thighs. “Better?” he asked.
He thought she nodded.
“Gannon?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Even though you don’t need anyone to take care of you?”
“Yeah. It was still nice.”
“You know, princess, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to get out of having sex with me tonight.”
“Har har, ass.”