“I’ll go easy on him,” I promise as I make my way back downstairs. After knocking twice on door #2, I whisper the word icepack and the door pops open.
Maggie’s right where I left her, on top of the closed toilet lid with her foot propped up on a trash can. The relief that surges through me is unwelcome, not to mention ridiculous. She’s got a twisted ankle. Where the hell did I think she’d run off to?
“Points to Kappa for a fully stocked first aid kit. It may not have been opened in the last decade, but none of this stuff goes bad, right?”
Maggie looks hopeful, and I mentally cross my fingers as I pluck a pack of alcohol wipes from the box. “We’re good,” I announce, and it’s the truth. According to the package, these wipes are good until August thirty-first of this year. And today’s August twenty-first.
We’re golden.
I root through the box and find the rest of what I need. Snapping on a pair of gloves, I take a look at her scraped upknee in the light. I don’t pay any attention to the curve of her calf or the smooth, soft skin of her thigh. Nope. I’m just cleaning out her wound like any normal person who totally does not have a new-found leg fetish would do. Tearing the alcohol wipes open, I look into Maggie’s eyes. “Can’t lie. This is probably gonna hurt.”
“Is that really necessary? It’s probably clean, right?”
I laugh lightly. “You basically rolled around in the dirt. I’m no medical professional, but this step is definitely required.”
She bites her lip and closes her eyes.
“You’re tough. You’ve got this.”
Maggie just laughs. “No one has ever mistaken me for tough in my whole life. I’m a certified wimp. I freak out when I get a paper cut. I don’t even handle the hiccups with any amount of dignity or bravery.”
“Hiccups are the worst. Besides, you’ve been walking around on pointy-toed heels all night. That counts as badass. You can absolutely handle a little rubbing alcohol. On three, ready? One, two?—”
“Motherfucking son of a bitch in heat,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut as she stops the flow of blood from my arm to my hand with her death grip.
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. All five foot three of this little blonde bombshell is bringing me to my goddamn knees as she winces from the sting of the rubbing alcohol.
If she thinks this hurts, she may well pass out when I wrap her ankle.
Maggie peels her eyes open just in time to see me tearing the top off of another packet.
“Almost done, I promise.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Her words are playful but something in her tone tells me my answer matters.
I could joke and ask her what other choice she has. I couldpretend to call out to any number of drunken party guests to see if there are any pre-med majors in the house.
I could toss out some cheesy line about how I don’t go around lying to beautiful women.
But none of that’s my style. I’m not the funny guy. Or the suave one. I’m the dependable one. The one who protects what’s mine.
I’m a keeper. It’s what I do.
Maggie’s sure as hell not mine, I tell myself, tamping down the wave of possessiveness that washes over me.
But she’s in my care for the time being, and that’s all I’m focused on right now.
Well, that and the fact that her perfect tits are about to spill out of her tiny little dress…
I give my head a mental shake and reach for another alcohol wipe. “I went to summer camp when I was nine. It was a sleepaway camp, the kind where you stay all summer long.” I don’t need to look into her sky-blue eyes to see that she’s wondering what the hell I’m talking about. “I don’t even remember the name of the camp now, but I was in Sparrow Cabin with a bunch of other guys my age. The second day we were there, someone stole all the gummy worms from the snack stand.”
I blow a little cool air on her skin before dabbing some ointment on her cut and sealing it with a bandage.
Maggie’s paying no attention to the first-rate medical care I’m doling out. She’s too busy clutching her non-existent pearls and feigning shock. “Not the gummy worms!”
“Mmhmm,” I say, nodding gravely as I reach for the ACE bandage. “And brace yourself because it gets worse. One time, when we were on a hike, somebody TP’d our cabin.”
“The audacity.”
