“Got a problem there, Morgan?”
My foot slips off the edge of the mattress and crashes to the floor. From my bent-over position, I catch Hailey leaning against the wood frame of the doorway. Her arms cross her chest, amusement playing on her face as she snoops at my handiwork.
I scramble to stash the bloodied pair of socks underneath my pillow. My elbow knocks into my bag, dumping the box of character Band-Aids and half the clothes I packed onto the floor between us. I swipe at everything I can reach, but she’s dangling a pair of black briefs from her pointer finger by the time I right myself.
Smooth.
My mouth cracks into a grin. I can turn this situation on its head.
I press off the mattress and grab the fabric, letting my palm brush against her finger.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I say, my voice low.
She flusters.
“I don’t recall you answering when I asked where you were going next. I thought I made a good enough impression to at least get that much,” I add.
Her face heats and I use the opportunity to tug the briefs free of her grasp and drop them in the opening of my bag.
Mission accomplished.
She blinks, and a smile works its way up to her eyes.Two can play at this game, they seem to be saying.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Your first impression was terrible,” she says. “And I didn’t think it mattered that you knew where I was going. You didn’t plan to see me again, now did you?”
I finally break our eye contact. She’s got me there.
I fit a sock over my foot and slip my boots back on, tying the laces way too tight. When I take my first step, I grit my teethbehind closed lips and pretend everything is fine. She watches my face like she’s waiting for me to respond.
I’m no actor, but I must be doing a terrible job at hiding my grimace because she says, “Let me look at that.”
I should not be staring at her mouth as she kneels before me, but man if I don’t gawk at her red lips all parted and covered in some form of berry color.
Get a grip.
She reaches out and cradles my foot in the palms of her hands. Her fingers sweep across my ankle in a way that requires me to flex my entire anatomy of leg muscles to keep them from shuddering. The warmth of her touch seeps into my skin, and I find myself leaning closer instead of pulling away like I should be. Keeping up the facade that I don’t need help.
“You’re supposed to break them in, you know,” she says, swiping her finger beneath my sock and peeling it away gently. “Not wear them for the first time on a training day.”
I didn’t get into my past with her on that flight or tell her how this job came to be for me—that I didn’t exactly have time to break anything in. But I stop myself.Remindmyself that you can’t get hurt if you don’t open up.
I steal the sock from her hands, slide it on, and stand. “I like to live on the edge, remember?” I arch a brow at her.
“And how’s that working out for you?” she asks.
I model the box of Scooby Doo Band-Aids. “Saving the day.”
I take another step and hiss through clenched teeth.
“All right.” She straightens and drops her hands to her sides. “I guess those crappy Band-Aids will do the trick then.” She saunters away from me, and the way her hips move makes it difficult to keep my eyes above her waist. I manage to appreciate her hair and the way it weaves in a long braid down the middle of her back instead.
“Crappy?” I scoff. “I’ll have you know I paid seven bucks for quality first aid.”
“Yeah, well, those overpriced stickers are half the size of the blisters on your heels. But suit yourself.”
I don’t want her help. The last thing I need is to look weak around here. But I’m not naive enough to believe this is a smart decision. In fact, I might not have a choice in the matter if I don’t want to humiliate myself in front of McCafferty tomorrow.
“Wait!” I stop her.
