I hold up the sweatshirt. “You looked a little uncomfortable earlier.”
“Oh, my god, thank you,” she smiles gratefully. “This is the itchiest thing I’ve ever worn.”
I swallow down another groan as she pulls the sweatshirt over her head and performs the woman magic trick of taking off her bikini top underneath it and pulling it out a sleeve.
My mouth quirks despite my effort to look stern. “Feel better?”
“Much,” she sighs, before looking between me and her top. “Oh, that’s awkward.”
Raising my hands, I shrug, “No judgment here. That’s female sorcery at its best, that is.”
She’s laughing, but her hand is behind her head, cradling the spot where she hit the ground.
“You can laugh it up in a minute,” I say, “let’s see what Doc Meyers is giving you for the pain first.”
“The patient is getting an ice pack and ibuprofen,” he says, appearing with a small bottle and a glass of water. “Your scans came back clean, and since your blood pressure is good, there’s no reason to keep you. I believe there’s a detective in the waiting room who’d like to take your statement first.”
“Thank you,” she smiles up at him warmly. “Um, I have my credit card in my purse, so I can-”
“No need,” I interrupt, “my family has an account with the doctor.”
Mala’s expression darkens. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you pay for my medical bill.”
“I assure you, a quick visit and a scan isn’t much.” I’m lying. Doc Meyers charges a premium for good reasons.
I shouldn’t take this any further. I should bring her back to her friends.
“But if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you buy me dinner?”
Mala is young, very likely too young for me. But sweet Jesus, she’s beautiful. Her auburn hair flares out around her shoulders like literal flames, and her toffee-colored eyes are sharp. She’sbeen watching all of us, and even though she’s sweet as treacle, she is on her guard.
She’s far too clever and observant to be just a drunk college girl out on a night with her friends. I want to know more about her. It’s been a long time since I’ve been so curious about a woman, and now that her glorious breasts are covered up, I can think more clearly.
Chewing her lip absently, she eyes me. “All right. I would love to.”
Chapter Three
In which there are no names, no backstories, and terrible sheep jokes.
Mala….
When I regained consciousness, the most gorgeous man - no, god, man-god? - I’d ever seen was standing over me.
I’ve been rescued by a god.
Which one was the hottest god? Apollo, probably. Cormac is Apollo slumming it in human form. Though with that hugely muscled build, he could definitely be Ares, the insanely fierce god of War and namesake of my college.
He’s a giant, at least 6’5 or 6’6, so tall he’s blocking out the examination light which is a blessing because while I may not have a concussion, I have one hell of a headache. Long, dark hair brushing his collar and those eyes! Emerald green? Jade green? He’s looming over me like a redwood, so it’s hard to tell.
But he isnotpaying my bill. This private clinic is high-end, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only patient right now. Dr. Meyers has all the insanely expensive imaging equipment and everything I’ve seen between this bed and the CT scan is aggressively high-tech. Maybe he’s a specialist?
“Here’s some ibuprofen and an ice pack,” the doctor says kindly. When he turns his back I slip the pills into my purse. I’m not taking any medication when I’m not even sure where the hell I am. The ice pack feels wonderful, though.
I glance up to see Cormac staring at me thoughtfully, his dark, straight brows are furrowed slightly. I’ve finished giving my pitifully limited information about the attack to that expressionless detective, so snuggling gratefully into his giant sweatshirt, I ask, “Ready for dinner? Pick someplace medium-range and anything on the menu is yours, baby!”
He laughs, throwing back that gorgeous, perfectly shaped head and sounding a little surprised like he doesn’t do it that often.
“Sounds like I’ve caught myself a sugar mama.”
