CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Luckily the doctors had given Carrie something for the pain, and whatever it was, it was strong as hell because she was smiling and chatting as if she hadn’t a stage two sprain of her ankle. It was immobilized in a boot with Velcro straps and she wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it for a few days. That particular fact didn’t appear to bother her at the moment but when the drugs wore off she was going to be upset about it. There was no way she could care for herself alone at Paige and Nate’s house.
Which is why he’d brought her to his house.
She’d giggled when he’d carried her from the taxi into the living room, setting her on the sofa and elevating her leg with a pillow. Apparently in her current state, being ferried around like a fainting heroine in a historical novel was amusing. She’d been given a set of crutches but frankly she scared Max to death with them. At best Carrie could only be described as awkward when she’d tried them out at the hospital but then she was under the influence of some powerful painkillers. It was much easier and simpler, not to mention safer, to simply carry her where he needed her to be.
He put a few pillows behind her back and handed her the remote for the television. “Now why don’t I get you a nice cup of tea? Are you hungry? I can fix something.”
Carrie shook her head, placing the remote on the end table. “Still full from lunch but thank you. No tea, but maybe a nice glass of water? The pain medication is making me thirsty.” She blinked a few times and yawned. “And a little sleepy too.”
Hurrying into the kitchen, he quickly fixed a glass of ice water and brought it out to her only to find her fast asleep, her head lolling against the cushions. With a chuckle, he retrieved a wool throw from the closet and covered her up, careful to tuck the blanket around her feet and shoulders. They’d both been chilled to the bone after getting caught in that rainstorm.
After running upstairs to change clothes and into an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he checked on Carrie again still peacefully sleeping although the blanket had slid off and onto the floor. He tucked it around her again and settled into a chair opposite the couch to check his emails on his laptop. His attention, however, kept straying back to his houseguest as she slept, her expression in sweet repose.
In deep contrast to pretty much all of her waking moments.
He winced as he remembered her whimpers of pain when they’d manipulated her ankle in the hospital to see how badly it was damaged. Her full lower lip had trembled but fighter that she was, she’d held back the tears that had surely wanted to fall. A few expletives had escaped from her potty mouth but all in all Carrie had been quite brave. He’d expected a few of those curse words to fall on his head but so far, nary a one.
After all, this was Max’s fault.
Like the stupid idiot that he was, he’d been running too fast on the wet pavement. His legs were twice as long as Carrie’s, so of course she’d been struggling to keep up. He’d wanted out of the rain and because of his thoughtlessness she’d been hurt. He was supposed to be taking care of her and now she’d been injured. Paige and Nate were going to throw a fit when they found out. Max had some groveling due for Carrie and he would gladly do it. Hopefully when the pain medication wore off and she started to think more clearly, she wouldn’t hate him.
His gaze traveled back to the couch where she lay sleeping, her long, dusky lashes fanned out on her cheeks and a dainty hand tightly clutching the blanket to her chest as if it were her favorite stuffie. When awake, Carrie was a formidable and strong woman but right now she looked almost like an angelic child. His protective instincts had already kicked in but now they seemed to take up every part of him until his chest was painfully tight at the mere thought of anything bad happening to her. He’d keep her safe and happy no matter what.
Time ceased to be meaningful as he studied her head to toe. The long fiery red hair, her stubborn chin and graceful neck, her perfectly polished toes peeking out of the boot. Every time he saw her again he was struck by how much more beautiful she was than the time before. Was she growing more lovely or was something changing inside of him?
Going back and forth between watching her sleep and checking his email, he didn’t know how much time had passed when her lids fluttered open and a smile curved her lips for a split second before a grimace took its place. The medication must be wearing off.
“Shit, I hurt.”
Quickly tossing his laptop aside, he was up and out of the chair. “I’ll get you the pain pills the doctor prescribed.”
“Wait,” she called, struggling to sit up, her forehead furrowed with the effort. “I don’t want to take those unless I have to. Maybe just at night. I have some ibuprofen in my purse. Fuck, where is my purse? We didn’t leave it in the street, did we?”
There was panic in her voice and Max hurried to her side and knelt down, taking her hands in his. “I told you I have this handled, didn’t I? Your purse is on the foyer table. Do you want me to get it for you?”
Not waiting to hear her answer, he snagged the oversized handbag from the table and placed it down next to her. Knowing Carrie, she wouldn’t have rested until she saw the damn thing with her own two eyes.
She pawed through it, placing odds and ends on the coffee table before tossing back two pills and chasing them with the now tepid glass of water. Her gaze followed his to the items she’d unloaded from her purse.
“What?”
Picking up the small bottle, he flipped the lid and sniffed. Alcohol.
“Hand sanitizer,” she offered, her brows raised.
He held up a second item.
“Hair tie. You never know when you’re going to need to pull your hair back.”
“Obviously.” He held up a third. “And this?”
“Band-aids or as you call them, plasters. I get a lot of paper cuts.”
There was a tin of mints, a brush, a comb, a tiny notebook with a pen, a head band, an e-reader, an Oyster card for the Tube, chocolate, dental floss, tissues, safety pins, a mobile charger, a bottle of nail polish, and several tubes of lipstick.
And the purse wasn’t yet empty. It had been heavier to carry than she was.
“Well, my sweet, should there be a zombie apocalypse you are all set.”
Carrie stuffed everything into her bag. “I think you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m just surprised. You’re usually one of the most organized women I’ve ever seen but in this one area you have a giant bag of odds and ends.”
Pulling open the top of the purse, she held it up so he could see inside. “It is organized. I have a place for everything and I know where it all is. It only looks muddled to the untrained eye.”
It was his turn for his brows to shoot up. “Am I the untrained eye in this scenario?”
“Are you an expert on women’s handbags?”
Max had to admit that he was not.
“No, but I’m trainable.”
“My point exactly. Now do you think I could trouble you for some ice for my ankle? It hurts like someone took a sledgehammer to it.”
Shit, he needed to get on the ball if he was going to take care of her. “Of course. One ice pack coming up.”
He refreshed her water while he was at it and then handed her a stack of menus. “Choose whatever you want.”
Gingerly she accepted them but didn’t open any. “You don’t need to go to any trouble. I can just order something when I get home.”
Home? Carrie had no clue. He’d expected an argument when she figured out she was just about helpless but it appeared…she hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Sweet,” he said gently, lowering himself into the chair next to the couch. “You aren’t going home tonight. Or probably tomorrow night either. Or the next. Don’t you remember that the doctor said no weight on that ankle for at least a few days? That means you can’t be on your own.”
It took her a long moment before she seemed to understand, panic crossing her features.
“I can’t stay here.”
Why not? She hadn’t minded last night.
He kept his voice even and calm, not wanting to get pulled into an argument about this. She wasn’t leaving and that was final. “You need someone to take care of you. I’m sure Paige would want to do it herself if she was here but she’s in LA. It’s not a problem because I’m glad to do it. This is all my fault anyway.”
Carrie shifted position, wincing as she moved her tender ankle. “How is this your fault? I was clumsy and I fell.”
“Chasing after me,” he shot back. “My legs are twice as long as yours are. I was thoughtless and you paid for my inattentiveness. I truly am very sorry, Carrie. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“My shoe slipped,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not your fault.”
“Because we were running. If we had been going at a more reasonable clip it might not have happened.”
“Or I might have been flattened by a London taxi. Seriously, you don’t have to feel guilty. I’m sad to say this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen ass over teakettle and it won’t be the last.”
He clapped his hands on his knees. “Be that as it may, I do feel responsible. Now what would you like for dinner?”
Her expression turned mutinous. He had a fight on his hands.
“I cannot stay here, Max.”
“Why not? You clearly cannot stay by yourself. How will you get around?”
She pointed to the crutches he’d leaned against the doorway. Far away from where she was lying so she wouldn’t be tempted. “With those.”
“Oh? How will you carry food or drink back and forth? Or get in and out of the shower? Or climb the stairs? You haven’t thought all of this through, love. The hospital was very clear in their instructions. You’re to have someone to look after you for a few days until you’re getting around better. They wouldn’t have released you if they thought you were going to be on your own.”
Her mouth was hanging open and he had to stifle a laugh. She appeared positively scandalized. “The shower? You’re planning to help me bathe?”
In every way possible if she’d let him.
He gave her an evil grin. “It will be my pleasure.”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times as her gaze darted to the crutches then back at him. Every alternate scenario she could think of was whirling through that brilliant mind of hers but she was going to come back to the same solution he’d come to hours ago. Falling back against the cushions, she gave a sigh of defeat.
“Fine, but we’ll…reevaluate…in the morning. I might be a lot better.”
“We’ll see,” he replied, picking up the menus again and handing them to her. “Now choose some dinner and then a movie perhaps? Whatever you want to do tonight.”
Max was simply grateful she’d given in and stayed. But he had a feeling that this might just be the battle and not the war. Victory was far from a sure thing when it came to Carrie.