“Let’s try your left hand first,” he says once the towel covers the entirety of my body.
I inhale his scent when he raises his arms, spreading my robe and lifting it over my head to give me access to push my arm through the sleeve.
He’s a mixture of musk, fresh air, and masculinity.
“There,” he says just above a whisper once my left arm is through the robe. “We’ll leave the right arm free since we don’t know what bones are broken there.”
“I doubt any bones are broken,” I say weakly.
For a split second our eyes meet. The pain falls away for the briefest moment as I look into those hazel eyes surrounded by sun weathered skin from days spent underneath the Texas sun.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he murmurs.
“What? Hospital? No, I’m …” My words trail off at the withering look he gives me.
“There’s no room for your damn pride right now.” His voice cuts through my argument. “You’re hurt, and we don’t know the extent of your injuries. You called out for help, and I’m the one who answered, so we’re doing this my way.”
He moves around my body, positioning himself at the left side of my body. “Put your arm around my shoulders,” he instructs while simultaneously lifting my uninjured arm to place over his shoulder.
A surprised gasp escapes my lips when he places one strong arm at the small of my back and slides the other underneath my knees.
“What are—” I don’t need to finish the question when he makes it obvious what he’s doing as he lifts me off of the floor in one fell swoop.
Though I’ve lost some weight since my divorce five years ago, and have a regular Pilates and walking routine, I’m still a solid size ten at five-foot-seven. In other words, I’m not exactly petite.
But this man lifts me like he’s picking a pillow up off the floor.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says to my incomplete question.
CHAPTER 4
Joel
“No, I am not letting you walk to the door,” I bicker my way all the way around the front of my truck to the passenger side where Ellyn sits.
She peers down at me with narrowed lids that slightly hide her honey brown irises.
Her gaze, only a few shades lighter than her skin tone, doesn’t scare me. Unfortunately, the look intrigues me. Makes me want things I haven’t wondered about or wanted for a long, long time.
“I only have a bruised hip,” she tells me.
“And a sprained wrist,” I take the liberty to remind her. “Which you could make a lot worse if you try walking, trip and fall right here in your driveway. Then what? Huh?
“Another trip to the ER,” I say, not waiting for her to respond. “Put your arm around my shoulders,” I instruct.
She glares for another second before she reluctantly sticks out her arm with the cast on her wrist to slide around my shoulders.
I ignore the heated sensation that pulses through my body the moment she touches me. Instead, I remind myself to begentle as I lift her from my Ford, holding her to me, ensuring she doesn’t slip.
Something makes her jump.
“Am I hurting you?”
She turns her face to meet mine. It’s not lost on me that our lips are mere inches apart in this position. A fact I can’t deny when my eyes involuntarily drop to get a look at her plump lips.
When she tucks her bottom lip in between her teeth, I bite back a groan.
“No.” Her voice is but a damn whisper.
