He looks at me, then at my foot, then back at me. “You’re bleeding.”
Picking up the little bin of supplies, I wave it in front of him. “You brought me half a drugstore. I’ll be fine and I’ll return these later.”I sign the words, but I don’t fully look at him. Ican’t. This sweet, tender, somber side of Ollie is more than I can take. If he keeps putting his hands on me and that tender expression stays on his face, I’ll either kick that serene smile all the way to next week, or I’ll let myself surrender to feelings better left buried.
Why are you fighting me on this?he asks.It’s my fault you got hurt, so just let me help you.
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. It’s Blue’s. And really, it was an accident, so it’s no one’s fault.”
Ollie tries to interrupt, but I wave him off.I’m fine. Just let me use the little emergency kit and I’ll be good to go.
He says nothing. I can’t believe he’s giving up this easily. Ollie and I are pretty evenly matched in the stubbornness department, but I’m glad he’s doing as I asked and leaving me alone.
Until I realize he isn’t.
Instead of leaving, he’s just leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed.
What the hell?I ask.
In response, he just shrugs.Go ahead, Fallon. Take care of your bleeding wound.
I wince at the image his words convey. My stomach already feels queasy, and I haven’t even peeked at my injuries except for a quick glance in the kitchen. Because…yeah. Blood is not my thing. Anything more severe than a paper cut is way above my pay grade, and dammit, Ollie knows my weakness.
He knows practically everything about me because he’s one of my brother’s closest friends and because he loves to hang out at our house over holiday breaks and summer vacations. He was at our beach house last June when my sister sliced her thumb while chopping veggies for dinner, and I nearly passed out.
But that was months ago. I’ve changed.
Okay, that’s total bullshit. I haven’t changed a bit, and I doubt I’ll ever outgrow my aversion to blood, but I’m also certain I’ll never get over my aversion to Ollie Jablonski, so I’m in a bit of a pickle.
And he knows it, the fucker.
Go on, I sign.I’ve got this.
He sighs and the bunching of his muscles does funny things to me. Why the hell couldn’t he have put a shirt on when he ran up to get the first aid kit? The guys in this house walk around half naked at least half of the time, and I don’t pay any attention. But a shirtless Ollie is hard to ignore.
You hate me that much? he asks, and I swear he looks positively wounded.There’s glass in your damn foot and I’m such scum that I can’t even remove it for you?
I don’t need your help, I repeat.I can do it myself.
That’s a lie and we both know it. With my luck, you’ll puke at the sight of your own blood, and I’ve already cleaned up vomit this morning, and I really don’t want to do it again.
Then leave.
Ollie shakes his head and the smile he shoots me would make a lesser girl swoon. Fine, it makes me swoon, too, but I hide it with a scowl.
I’m not like Pete, Ollie signs, leaving me confused.
Okay… I answer, doing my best to ignore the throbbing in my foot.
I love his girlfriend, Claire, but she’s mean as hell. He fucking soaks it up. It’s some kind of foreplay for those two, but it’s not my kink.
I roll my eyes in his direction before signing,I guarantee this will come as a shock to you, but I don’t care what your kinks are or what they aren’t.
You sure about that? he challenges.
Unless you get off on blood, you should leave because I’m about to perform surgery on my own foot.
His gaze narrows.Is that really what you want? For me to leave so you can get to work?
What I want is to go back in time and put on some fucking shoes before I walked into the kitchen. What I want is a breakfast of waffles with butter and syrup. And some coffee. But all that will have to wait until I’ve taken care of my foot, and to do that, I needyou to leave.
