“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say brushing down the front of my clothes.
“Maybe you should sit down? Here.” He directs me over to the large leather chair, and I quickly cover my rear end rip with both hands as we walk.
I feel fine, but there’s something about his protective hands all over me that has me wanting to fake a serious injury and demand he swoop me up in his arms and carry me away to safety.
He came to my rescue like it was second nature.
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling safe for a moment before the realization as to what just happened sears my brain.
Benny saweverything. I can’t help but picture what it must have looked like from his point of view—although a mix of rag doll and wet mop comes to mind. My insanely attractive boss saweverything. I feel hot from embarrassment as he looks me over. I would rather Bill, the janitor, have been here pointing and laughing at the scene instead ofthis.
Humiliation starts to engulf me like a wave.
He reaches up and pulls my pen cap out of my tangled hair. His attempt to be gentle is thwarted at the obvious rats nest that has formed from the collision. He winces and mouths “sorry”as the cap comes free with pieces of my hair attached.
God. Just leave me here todie.
“I am so embarrassed,” I say, my voice cracking as he hands me the cap.
“I’m going to throw that chair away first thing tomorrow. Justice will be served.”
“My hero.” I force a laugh.
He sits on the armrest of the chair and pushes a piece of my hair behind my ear. I feel my breath catch at the physical contact. I abruptly shove my hand up to my hair and smooth it out.
“Can I get you anything?” His voice is gentle as he smooths out a piece of hair I missed.
I can’t seem to make words as I become fixated on how close his body is to mine.Why do I feel so debilitated right now?I stutter an attempt at words as he stares at me.
“Alright, twenty questions, let’s see if you have a concussion,” he says, placing his hand softly on my back. I nod in agreement, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
“Favorite food?”
“Tacos.”
“Favorite movie?”
“Princess Bride.”
“Dogs or cats?”
“Will this determine a concussion? Don’t you need to know if the answer is correct or not?” I can’t help but laugh at the sincerity of his medical evaluation.
“Ah, yes.” He chuckles a hearty laugh that I feel all the way down to my toes. “What month is it?”
“September.”
“Good. Where are we?”
I roll my eyes and giggle at the complexity of his questions. “Glendale.”
“Correct! I think you will be okay.” He grazes his fingertips against my back.
Is it me or is herubbingmy back?
