“On my hip. If you give me two drinks, I’ll probably show you.” As soon as she said the words, her eyes went wide, and her muscles tensed beneath me. “I didn’t mean that. Ignore it. It’s the blood loss. It’s loosened my inhibitions and common sense.”
She grunted a few times and tried to pull out of my arms without success.
“No, stay put. I need to clean your cut.”
“Surely one of the other girls can do that?”
“I’m sure I have more experience with this sort of thing, and I don’t mind.” I found a cotton ball and covered it with the saline. “One of the young women is making you hot chocolate and bringing you a shirt since this one is covered in blood.”
“My shirt?”
“Yeah.”
She looked down, and her eyes widened even more. “Am I naked?”
I fought a laugh. “No. You kept half your shirt on, half your coat hanging off your other arm, and you’re wearing a bra.”
“I don’t remember if it was a cute-bra day or an old-bra day.”
“Cute. Trust me.”
That must have satisfied her because she sighed. “Is it clean yet?”
“Almost.” I’d already used five cotton balls cleaning up the now-dried blood from her arm. I tossed the used materials into the nearest trash can. “Let me put a bandage on it, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was quieter than usual.
I finished with the bandage just as the woman brought a sweatshirt and a large white mug with a Beta sign that saidhappy happy happyin red. “Done.”
“Here, Becs.” The woman placed the mug on the night table and stared at Becca with worry lines around her eyes. “Are you okay? We’re sick downstairs just thinking you’re hurt. The girls wanted to come up, but I made them wait.”
“I’ll survive this time, Kristin.” She sat up and smiled—not at me but at Kristin. “Will you go reassure everyone I’ll make it? I don’t want anyone up here since there’s still glass on the floor.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll help her clean up,” I interrupted. “Thank you for getting the supplies.”
She nodded and left us alone in the room. We hadn’t moved from our positions so our thighs pressed together. My entire body tightened with need, with awareness of how warm and soft she was. It unsettled me. Becca took a sip from the mug and met my gaze over the rim, her brow furrowing for a second before her forehead smoothed out.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She ignored my question and let out a long, deep sigh that I swore I felt in my gut. “I’m sorry you’re the one who had to help me.”
“Why?” Her words shouldn’t have hurt me, but they did. Was I that bad of a guy?
“I hate when people feel guilted into helping me. It was nice of you to check on me, though, so I appreciate it. Thank you.” Her stiff tone had me sitting straighter.
“I wasn’t guilted, and you’re welcome.” I rose from the bed and began the pickup. My coat still covered her, and I tossed her the sweatshirt. “Do you need help putting that on?”
“I think not, sir.” Pink tinged her cheeks.
I turned away to hide my amusement. Finding a broom, I swept the broken glass into the pan. She’d done a good job repairing the window before her injury, and I could put the tarp on soon. I stuck my head out the window, frowned at the large fragments there, and was picking them up when she let out a loud, frustrated sigh. I stilled, afraid to turn around. “You good?”
“Um, well, see the thing is… I need help with this shirt. My arm hurts, and I’m stuck.”
“To clarify, Icanturn around?”
“Yes, Harrison.”
