CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Paige woke slowly, advancing into different stages of awareness. She was warm and safe. But she froze when the soft snore reached her ear and she became aware of strong arms wrapped around her.
Gannon.
He’d helped her shower, dried her hair, changed her dressings, and fed her. And then he’d climbed into bed next to her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She let that soak in, ready to feel the humiliation of him seeing her at her most vulnerable. But that thought was derailed by the twitch of what promised to be an exceptional erection prodding her back.
She’d witnessed it with her own eyes last night. It was official. There wasn’t an inch of Gannon King that wasn’t impressive. And what should have been a night of mind-blowing pleasure for the two of them—because Gannon didn’t half-ass anything—had been downgraded to an unfulfilling evening of nursemaid and patient.
That sucked.
So did the cacophony of aches and pains that began to plague her as they settled into her consciousness like a cloud of rabid locusts. There were so many of them she couldn’t identify or isolate them all. Paige felt like she had the flu times a million.
She lifted her head ever so slightly and could tell that the world beyond her room was still dark outside. She should wake Gannon, send him back to his room. But she was so comfortable. The steadiness of his breathing, the slow thrum of his heartbeat, soothed her. She wasn’t alone.
He stirred, burying his face in her hair. “Go back to sleep, honey,” he murmured. And for once in her life, she did what she was told.
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Gannon woke to the incessant ringing of a phone and cracked open a bleary eye. Paige was cradled in his arms, and he could just make out a lightening in the sky around the edges of the curtains.
Blindly, he reached for the phone and sat up, easing his arm out from under Paige.
“’Lo?” he rasped quietly into the phone.
“I’d like to speak to my daughter who didn’t bother telling me she’d been in an accident yesterday.” The voice had more than enough ice to refreeze a melting iceberg.
“You must be, Dr. St. James,” Gannon yawned.
“And who are you?”
“Gannon King, your daughter’s…,” he glanced back at the silhouette of Paige’s sleeping form next to him, “friend.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would put Paige on the phone,” the woman said icily. Gannon imagined it was the tone she reserved for slow valets or dimwitted servers.
“She’s sleeping—”
“I never should have let her take that ridiculous job. Reality television,” Dr. St. James gave an inelegant snort. “She could have gone into medicine like her sister or —”
“Look, Dr. St. James. I understand that you’re pissed off and worried, but you’re a psychologist, right?”
There was a slight pause. “That’s correct.”
“Then I imagine you can hypothesize how berating your daughter after a physical trauma might not be the right call.”
Dr. St. James sputtered on the other end of the line. He could hear it. The anger, the worry in her tone. She cared. She just didn’t know how to show it. Sometimes his own mother, a tough Italian broad as she liked to tell everyone, was the same way.
“Paige is going to be okay, by the way. Pretty banged up, but she’ll live and so will the boy whose life she saved.”
“I didn’t realize—”
“Look, Paige needs more sleep. Why don’t you call back this afternoon, and I’d suggest leading with ‘Are you okay?’”
“Mr. King,” she began.
“Gannon.”
“Gannon, I appreciate that you’re looking out for my daughter, but I find your tone disrespectful and entirely uncalled for.”
“I was just about to say the same to you,” he yawned. “I’ll tell her you called and asked about her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” Gannon hung up the phone.
He swiped his hand over his face. It looked as though he was officially awake for the day. As much as he wanted to stay in this bed with Paige, he needed to get back to his room before anyone saw him sneaking shirtless out of hers. Gannon didn’t care much about appearances, but it would upset Paige if people knew he’d spent the night with her.
He’d play ball. For now.
He switched on the bedside lamp and gave himself a moment to study her. The bruising on her face and the bump looked even worse now, mottled purple and blue. The violent evidence of her injuries still managed to work him up. He could have lost her without ever really having had her. This was no potential fling. These feelings were real and deserved to be explored, for both their sakes.
They were officially dating whether Paige liked it or not, whether she acknowledged it or not. And he wasn’t leaving her side.
“Paige,” he whispered her name. She murmured something in her sleep, and he took the opportunity to lean closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Princess.”
“Mmph.”
“Paige, I’m going back to my room.”
“You’re leaving?” she croaked.
“It’s almost morning.” He brushed her hair back from her face avoiding the bump on her head.
“I’m getting up.” She murmured, but her body looked like it was refusing to acknowledge her words.
“Why don’t you get some r—”
Paige rocketed into a sitting position and tried to cover her yelp of pain with a yawn.
“You’re going to hurt yourself all over again.”
She gingerly scooted herself to the edge of the bed but seemed in no hurry to attempt standing. She had to be hurting. Every visible inch of her was black and blue. He could only imagine what her muscles were screaming at her right now.
“I have to get to the set,” she said, refusing to look at him.
Gannon rolled his eyes and walked around the bed stopping in front of her. He nudged her chin up. Or at least tried to. Her gaze seemed to get stuck somewhere around his crotch, and then he remembered he was wearing only his underwear.
“Eyes up here, princess.”
The grumpy look she gave him did his heart good. She was going to be okay. If she took her recovery seriously, but he’d help her with that.
“About this going to the set—”
“I’m not staying in bed all day while everyone else works and worries,” she said defiantly.
Gannon had already anticipated there’d be no keeping her from the set. He preferred to have her there anyway so he could keep an eye on her. Besides, the rest of the crew was most likely still torn up over seeing her being carted away unconscious and bleeding. It would do them all some good to pretend that everything was normal today.
“You can go to work on the following conditions.”
She was trying to work up a mutinous expression, but it took too much energy. “Ugh. What?”
“You sit your ass in a chair and don’t lift a damn finger. You eat breakfast and lunch. And you come back to rest in the afternoon. We’ll see how you feel after a legitimate nap and then we decide if you can come back to the set tonight.”
She argued, weakly. “Gannon, there are a million things to do. I can’t just sit around and—”
“It’s either that or you’re banned from the set for the next two days. And Andy will back me up there.” He held firm and stared her down. In her weakened state, he was confident in a win.
“You’re really bossy.”
“Yeah? How’s it feel to be on the receiving end?” he asked cheerfully as he helped her to her feet.
Paige kept her face impassive, but he sensed her body tensing with pain. “Paige.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just a little stiff and sore.”
“Do you need anything before I leave?”
“You should probably put your pants on before you go.”
“I should probably check out all your bumps and bruises before I go,” he countered, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt that she wore, but Paige slapped his hand away.
“Be ready to go in thirty,” he said, dropping a soft kiss to the top of her head. He stepped into his jeans and boots and on the way out, grabbed Paige’s oversized windbreaker and put it on. His biceps strained the seams. He pointed at her. “Thirty minutes.”
“Don’t hulk out of my jacket,” she called after him as he let himself out.
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Gannon didn’t bother with a soft knock on Cat’s door. His sister could sleep through an earthquake that sent a six-lane highway into collapse. He gave the door a good three or four pounds before it opened. Cat looked as if she hadn’t slept all night, dark circles hovered under her bloodshot eyes.
“Why are you punching my door in the face at six in the morning?” she demanded, her voice a sleepy rasp.
“You and I are taking Paige to the set.” He snuck into his own room like a teenager after curfew and changed into fresh clothes before having a text conversation with Andy about exactly what Paige would and wouldn’t be asked to do today. Andy was on his side, but there was no way they were going to get her out of an invasive one-on-one about the accident and its after-effects.
“I knew she’d talk you into it,” Cat yawned, leaving the door open and fishing through dresser drawers for clean clothes.
“How do you know she talked me into anything?”
Cat shot him a look over her shoulder. “You’re the only one on the team who can talk her out of anything. If she’s going, it’s because you said it was okay.”
“I didn’t bother having the argument with her. I’d rather keep her where we can see her, make sure no other disasters befall her.”
“Gannon King walking away from an argument?” Cat arched an eyebrow at him and yanked one of a dozen pairs of shorts out of her drawer. “You must be rattled.”
“You’re the one who looks like she didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“It was bad, Gan.” Cat shook her head as if trying to dislodge the memories. “Tony and some of the other guys literally had to dig her out of the debris, and she was just huddled there on the ground over that boy. I thought she was dead. I thought they both were. Everything was dead silent, and then we hear the kid singing his ABCs.”
“Fuck.” Gannon sat down on his sister’s unmade bed.
“My sentiments,” Cat said, heading into the bathroom to change. “So you saw her this morning? I wanted to check on her again last night, but I figured she needed rest.”
“She’s gonna be hurting today,” Gannon said, side-stepping the question. “But I think everyone will feel better having her on set.”
“Agreed. Think we’re gonna see some trouble today?” she called through the door.
He knew exactly what she was thinking. The network or at least Summit-Wingenroth would smell blood in the water and demand a gory retelling. The network wouldn’t sweep this under the rug. Either they’d exploit Paige’s pain, or someone would be facing some serious trouble over the accident.
“I’m sure the network will poke their asshole noses in to it,” he said.
Cat strolled out of the bedroom, her hair tucked through the back of a Kings Construction cap. She yawned mightily. “Well, those assholes are going to have to get through us to get to her,” she said.
Gannon felt his spirits lift and stood up. He could always count on nothing less than the fiercest loyalty from his sister.
He put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her toward the door before she could decide to spend another half an hour on makeup. “I hope they put up a fight,” he said.
Cat snickered and then tossed over her shoulder, “By the way, when were you going to feel like telling me you spent the night with Paige?”
“What are you talking about?” he hedged.
“You smell like Paige’s coconut shampoo.”