“We can’t stay here,” I told him, looking up at the walls and loft area. “The wind is going to blow it down with us inside it.”
He frowned and waved a hand through the air.
“We’re fine,” he said, sitting on a bale of hay across from the one he threw me on. “This barn has been here for a hundred years. I doubt it blows over tonight. Let me see your foot.”
“What?” I ask, suddenly distracted by his demand.
“Let me see your foot. I want to see how much damage you’ve caused.” He motioned with his hand, asking for my foot.
“It’s fine. I was just walking on it,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything.” He grabbed my ankle and jerked my foot up into his lap.
I whimpered with annoyance, but didn’t try fighting him off. He unlaced my boot and pulled it off, making me wince in painwhen my foot moved through the leather boot. He glanced at me when I gasped, but he removed my sock and looked down at my foot.
I closed my eyes. “How bad is it?”
“I thought you just said it was fine.”
“Wishful thinking. Tell me. Is it broken?”
“Maybe,” he said.
My eyes popped open, finding a big bruise on the top of my foot, near my toes. “Well, that’s just great.”
“Maybe you’ll learn to control your temper next time.”
I scoffed.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, sarcastically.
“Just put your foot up to help with swelling.” He stuffed a bag of the new items I’d picked up under my foot. “You good?”
“I’ll be fine. How far do you think we are from town?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’re not finding out tonight.”
“What?” I asked, a little too loudly. I didn’t want to spend the night in a dark, creepy barn in the middle of nowhere during a storm.
He looked over at me with confusion. “You might have a broken toe or even a bone in your foot, so you’re not going to be walking all that fast. And it’s storming. I’m not tiptoeing through the rain with you. We’ll freeze.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to crash here tonight.”
“You want to sleep in a barn?” I asked.
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like I’m asking you to cuddle up with a cow or something. It’s an empty barn full of hay. It’s probably only for storage. We can crash here, use the hay for a bed. Plus, it will help us stay warm until the sun comes up.”
“I’m not an animal. I do not sleep in barns.” I pulled my foot off the bag and put my sock and boot back on despite the pain.
I stood.
“I’m getting out of here.” I turned for the door.
“Help yourself. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
I turned and looked at him, finding him kicked back on the hay bales. His ankles were crossed, and he had his hands behind his head.
Annoyed with how comfortable he looked, I jerked open the door and stared out into the downpour. The rain was coming down in thick sheets, and as night fell around us, it grew darker by the minute. I closed the door and turned to face him.
“Fine. One night,” I agreed softly.
