I did? I can’t remember. “I need to use the restroom.”
“Sure thing.” He leans over and puts one arm under my legs and the other around my back as he lifts me off the bed. I’d love to protest, but I can’t today. Sam sets me down near one of the two bathroom sinks; I hold on to the granite top with one hand and his arm with the other, then limp over to the toilet and look down. Now what?
Sam’s way ahead of me. He unties the bottoms of my scrubs and pulls them away from my body. They’re three sizes too big, so the pants fall to the ground. I hold on to his arm, moving down slowly to sit. My leg is screaming in so much pain that I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed. I’ve never peed in front ofSam. Hell, I’ve never peed in front of anyone but Lauren. I know I’m turning every shade of pink there is, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. Once I’m finished, I reach over to grab a tissue, but he’s already got it. If he attempts to wipe my ass, I may just die. He doesn’t, thank goodness.
I pull myself up and wait while Sam ties my pants back on. I really need a shower. That’ll have to wait until later. “Can I take a shower later?”
“Sure. Let me get you some breakfast, and we’ll work on that next.”
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you have to go to work? Isn’t it Monday?” Oh, shit, if it’s Monday... “Shit. I need to call Theresa.”
“I already did. She said she’d take care of everything and that she’d call you later.”
“Was she angry?”
“Of course not. Why would she be angry?”
“Long story. So, you’ll need to go to work soon, right? I could take a taxi home if?—”
“For the love of God, woman, you’re not going back to your place,” Sam shouts. “You’re healing. I can work from home if needed. Honestly, Gill’s got everything under control. He doesn’t need me right now.”
I’m a little startled by his outburst. “Sorry,” I mutter.
He leans down and kisses my lips. Ugh, I need to brush my teeth, too. I’m disgusting.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I raised my voice. I want you here—I need to take care of you. You’re doing me a favor. If you weren’t here, I’d be going batshit crazy worrying about you. So, please, let me do this. Okay, beautiful?”
“Okay.” What else can I say? Carrying me back to bed, I look up at him. “You know… you said something like that to me before?”
“Like what before?” he says, setting me back onto the bed.
“You said something like that to me on New Year’s Eve.”
“I did?”
“Yep, you said ‘Happy New Year, beautiful.’” I attempt to mimic his deep voice when I repeat his words, and it makes him chuckle.
“I remember. I remember everything from that night. You were pretty amusing to watch.”
“What are you talking about?” Hewatchedme?
“I learned that you don’t like caviar.”
I make a face when he mentions caviar. “No. That stuff is awful.”
“I watched you break the head off an ice sculpture.”
My face heats so much that I’m sure it’s turning bright pink again.
“I know your date was a dumbass, you don’t like wearing heels, your dress was itchy but pretty, and you were, by far, the most beautiful girl in the room that night.”
I look up at him. My eyes burn like there might be tears, but I fight it. “Yeah, well, you were the hottest guy there,” I whisper. “Hands down.”
He rewards me with a sexy smile and says, “I know.”
