As I pull away, a visible swallow clears her throat, and she looks back at me with pining fire in her eyes. Her lips are pinched before her words fall out. “I’m sorry that it never came up. Are you mad?”
The thing is . . . Blake is Bill’s enemy. Not mine. I’ve never actually met the guy. Bill can be awfully dramatic about things.
I shift my hand to her chin, tipping it up. My heart skips a beat that she allows me to do that. What is happening between us feels right. To worry about anything else—especially since all that drama is not even about us—is a waste of my energy. “I’m not mad,” I assert. “Maybe a little shocked, but I’m not letting Bill or Anton ruin our weekend.” As I rest my chin on her head, soaking up the warmth that wafts off her body, I can’t help but let my mind wander.
I mean, Bill isn’t going to be happy, and he has a way of getting what he wants, but nothing REALLY bad can happen . . . right?
I’ve always been an early riser, but I don’t think I slept at all, my mind too excited as I replayed our kiss—over and over. My foot bounces under my blanket, reminding me I’ve now missed two doses of meds. I ignore it, choosing to instead think about our kiss some more.
Maybe I got the timing wrong?
But I don’t regret it.
It seemed like we were dangerously close to locking each other into the friend zone if something didn’t happen soon. I know she felt the magnetism I did. After stressing about it for another solid ten minutes, I know I’ll never settle down. I get up and head to the kitchen, hoping to find some coffee I can make.
Two steps into the living room, and I startle to see Paisley propped up on the living room recliner, fully asleep. Her head leans to one side, supported by a thin pillow folded in half. One foot is on the recliner footrest. The other leg is kicked over the armrest, dangling down. The faintest little snoring pipes out of her nose. It’s all too evident she had a rough night.
My heart wrenches with empathy.
More than likely she couldn’t sleep flat on her back with her injured shoulder.
Not wanting to wake her, my plans to make coffee are thwarted as the kitchen is just a few steps away from her. But more than that, I can’t help but stare at her. My lips tingle when I recall how it felt to kiss her. She looks so beautiful; I can’t help but reach out to brush the side of her cheek. Her skin is so soft, it begs to be kissed, and I lower my face—
And cue her exorcism mode!
Without warning, her head springs back and she jolts to a sitting-up position, pillow already in her hands as she’s ready for an attack. Her arm flails back in a windup before her eyes are even open! If the footrest wasn’t in her way, I don’t doubt she’d be fully standing, her reactions are that quick.
My hands fly up, ready to dodge her weapon. “It’s just me,” I whisper shout and duck, chuckles ripping out of my mouth. I quickly pinch my lips together because it’s not funny she got so scared.
But it actually really is super funny.
Her eyes pop open and swell to the size of silver dollars, all the while she holds this on-guard stance.
A snort leaks as I cover my head and cower. “Relax,” I urge in a hushed voice.
“Ah, maybe I should have warned you.” Her eyes rapid-fire blink as she quickly scans the room before she brings her gaze back to me. “If you ever want your own episode of Dateline, touch me while I’m sleeping.”
I hold my hands up, and all the while I can’t stop laughing. After a moment, her shoulders relax, and she slips out a snicker. “What were you trying to do besides get beheaded?”
A deep laugh rolls out of my gut. “I was just brushing my hand against your cheek.” My cheeks heat, as it sounds so odd to say that out loud, and I rush to add, “Don’t worry. I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”
“I would advise not to.” She punctuates her words with a curt nod but then rolls her neck into a stretch, as her hand instinctively finds her shoulder and rubs it.
“Rough night?” My gaze hangs on her shoulder. She doesn’t look off-kilter anymore, but I can imagine all the bruises and possible swelling she’s suffering from.
“Aw man.” She tips her head further into a neck stretch, while her jaw drops into a deep yawn. “I have no idea what they gave me at the clinic, but as that wore off, the pain got so much worse. I took some of the pills they sent me home with. Those didn’t do near the trick. I couldn’t get comfortable.” She motions to the chair with a flick of a wrist. “I ended up here, only after trying the couch and even the floor.”
“I’m not an expert, but I can tell if it slipped back out of place. I can check if you want.”
“I don’t think it’s out of place.” She tilts her head the other way, stretching it more. “But it’s notnormal.”
Now that she’s dropped her weapon, I advance closer, circling around behind her chair. I slide my hands onto her shoulders, running my thumb along her shoulder blade. It only takes me a moment to feel a dense knot. “I think your shoulder is fine, but you have this knot—maybe it’s from how you slept? It could still be from your injury, but I think that’s what’s bothering you.”
Checking my assessment, I press on it, and instantly, she arches her back and pipes out, “Ouch.”
“Yep.” I chuckle as I wait for her to relax. “That would be it. I can rub it out for you if you want?”
“I’m not going to sayno.” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and turns in her chair to give me a better angle. I get to work, rubbing little circles with my thumb over the knot. “So, I’m guessing it’s the hockey that made you an expert on all of this stuff.” Her face is angled down, muffling her voice a little, but I can still hear her well enough.
