Kirk flashes me a crooked grin, giving me a thumbs-up sign.My heart does a silly little flip-flop, and all I want to do is hug him---for at least a week.
Oh yes, it's way too late to back out now.I think I'm in love with this lunatic.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kirk
Three weeks have gone by since the debacle on Aonach Eagach, and I've barely done anything physical since.Gretchen won't allow it.Ahmno bad enough off that she needs to treat me like a wee bairn, but I cannae deny that I enjoy the way she bathes me.It makes me so bloody horny that I want to mount her like a stag---from behind while she's on all fours.
At least the team was able to salvage enough footage to complete the stunt.
But I've had enough of being coddled.My shoulder has healed well, and I'm ready to get back to work.I catch Gretchen eyeing me suspiciously from the kitchen as I test my range of motion, rotating my arm in slow, careful circles.
"Don't even think about it, Balfour," she calls out, waving a wooden spoon in my direction like a weapon."The doctor said six weeks minimum before any strenuous activity."
"The doctor doesnae know my body like I do."To prove my point, if only to myself, I flex my fingers and feel only the slightest twinge."Besides, ahmno planning anything dangerous.Only some training to keep my muscles from atrophying completely."
Gretchen snorts, turning back to whatever delicious concoction she's preparing.The lass has taken over my kitchen these past weeks, insisting that proper nutrition is essential for healing.She's not wrong, but I'm starting to go mad with boredom.My muscles are crying out for exertion.
"I know that look," Gretchen informs me, abandoning her cooking to plant herself in front of me, hands on her hips."That's your 'I'm about to do something stupid' face."
"I dinnae have such a face," I protest, though the way her eyebrows arch tells me she's not buying it."I'm only stretching, lass.Nothing more."
"Uh-huh."She narrows those gorgeous hazel eyes and studies me as if I'm a bomb she's trying to defuse."And I suppose that's why you've been eyeing your climbing gear for the last twenty minutes?"
Has it been that long?I glance at my equipment stacked neatly in the corner and realize with a twinge of guilt that Gretchen has caught me red-handed.The climbing harness has been calling out to me like a siren song all morning.
"I'm going mad cooped up in here," I confess."A man needs adventure,mo leannan.It's in my blood."
Gretchen sets down her wooden spoon and crosses the room, her expression softening as she reaches me."I know this is hard for you, Kirk.But I watched you nearly die on that mountain.Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
I capture her hand and press a kiss on her palm."Please stop saying I almost died.It was a controlled situation, even with the malfunction."
She rolls her eyes and sighs."Men.You're all so damn stubborn."
The lass returns to her cooking while I contemplate the weeks after the stunt that nearly turned disastrous.My entire family has insisted on visiting us---meaning me and Gretchen---at least three times a week every week.In between their visits, the Carvers also have insisted on giving me a "look-see," as Alvena phrased it, on a regular basis.I dinnae mind that.But I do mind being treated like a bloody invalid.
Gretchen and I have also moved in together.It's "more expedient," as she likes to tell me.
During my convalescence, I've also endured the well-meaning but bloody annoying attention of my friends and their wives.Thane brought a bottle of Dùndubhan Masterpiece single-malt that he insists has "healing properties for a Scotsman's shoulder."I didnae argue with him on that point.Rebecca came with him, and they both fussed over me as if I were a newborn lamb.Fiona Sterling brought her brawny husband Domhnall, and the two of them kept trying to convince me to visit the distillery for a "safe" tour that wouldn't strain my shoulder.
Even the fucking mailman asks about my health when he delivers packages.The entire village seems to have appointed themselves as my personal health committee.
"I'm going out," I announce with enough volume that Gretchen glances up from her cooking.
"Out where?"she wants to know, suspicion lacing her voice.
"Just for a wee walk," I reply, trying to sound casual.
"Uh-huh, sure it's 'just a walk.'"The lass aims a batter-laden wooden spoon at me."I know how sneaky you are, Mr.Balfour.You aren't fooling me."
I growl softly like a ruddy animal."I'm going mad,gràidh.If I cannae have my cock inside ye soon, I'll become a cautionary tale and a study for the psychology journals.I at least need to get outside before I break something---or someone.Please let me fuck ye.Now."
Gretchen doesn't seem intimidated by my growl.In fact, she seems amused, which only makes my frustration grow."After your doctor-approved twenty minutes of exercise."
"I can walk longer than that."
She stabs her spoon in my direction again."Twenty minutes, tops."
