“Don’t be stubborn. You have cactus spines sticking out of your arm and your side.” He stepped closer. “And you can barely stand up.”
His statement gave me the gumption to prove him wrong. I shoved off the ground. Putting weight on my foot made my ankle scream in agony. But I bit my tongue so that I didn’t do the same. “But I can walk.” I was nothing if not stubborn.
“Let me at least pull the spines out.”
I looked over my shoulder, trying to get a look. Resigned, I nodded.
He was much too close. “It’s going to hurt.”
“Do it already.”
He lifted my shirt, and I jumped away, regretting the motion instantly. “What are you doing?”
“I have to pull them out of you, not your shirt.”
I moved back toward him. “Oh.”
With my shirt up, and my super pale skin exposed, Zach plucked out each spine. I set my jaw and managed not to scream. He ran his fingers over my skin, and I had to fight a different urge.
I lost the battle. Giggles exploded, and with tears flowing, I wriggled, unable to stop laughing.
Zach furrowed his brow. “Are you crying or laughing?”
I’d never seen a more confused man. “Yes. It hurts, and I’m super ticklish.”
He jerked his hand away. “That’s the best I can do right now. I hope that wasn’t your favorite shirt.”
“Why? Are there holes in it now?”
“I’m not sure the blood will wash out.”
“Blood?”
“In my line of work, I’ve learned that people typically bleed when stabbed.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I limped toward the trail, remembering to go around the poison oak vines. “Thanks for yanking them out.”
He walked along beside me, and I think he had to walk backward every third step to keep up with me. “You realize that we’re being outpaced by that snail.”
“I’m sorry. This is as fast as I can move right now.”
“We’ll get back to camp a lot quicker if you let me carry you.” He gave me the once over again. “You’d be pretty easy to carry.”
Staring down the trail, I traded my last shred of dignity for a break from the pain. “All right.”
Chapter 3
Zach set me in the truck. “Buckle up.”
“What about camping?” I grabbed his arm. “Hank needs us.”
“I’m never camping with you, Carrot. I live about a half hour from here. I’ll tell Hank to meet us there.” He slammed the truck door a little too hard.
My ankle throbbed; my side hurt; and a rash was breaking out on my arms. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t catch you.”
Those words ignited an image in my head, an image I didn’t need. In the last hour, I’d been closer to Zach than I had been in years. And it wasn’t helping me tame my attraction. I studied him while he drove. Was he still in love with Lisa? Maybe. He still had the same smug grin that begged to be slapped away.
If I ever dared to think of removing him from the never-date list, it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t at all interested. But I wouldn’t take him off that list. Ever.
Thirty minutes felt like forever when everything hurt.
We neared familiar landmarks.
“I didn’t know you still lived in Stadtburg.” I’d grown up in this little town.
He nodded. “Saw no reason to leave.”
Only a half hour from the city, it had become almost a suburb. I hadn’t been back much in the three years since my parents died.
He turned off the main road into something resembling a neighborhood. But the houses were more spread out than in the city.
He parked in front of a white, limestone one-story.
It was bigger than I expected—the house and the lot. The closest neighbor was half a block away.
“Don’t move. I’m coming around to get you.” Zach slid out and unlocked the house before opening my door. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“I’ll manage.”
He clenched his jaw. “Do we have to have this conversation again?”
“It’s not that far.”
“Fine. Walk.” He left the door open and headed inside. “Don’t sit on my couch.”
What a snot.
I eased out of the truck and yelped when my foot touched the ground. One step at a time, I hobbled to the door. All I wanted to do was sit. I made it over the threshold and stopped.
Zach had set up a folding chair.
“Thank you.” I dropped into it and forced back tears.
He walked past me, drying his hands on a paper towel. “I’m getting your stuff, then you need to shower.”
“Excuse me?” I’d dealt with rude people before, but this was over the top.
“Carrot, you got into poison oak. Washing off the oils is the only hope of not breaking out in a rash. It’s probably too late, but the hot water will help the itching anyway. It’ll also prevent you from spreading the oils everywhere. After you shower, I’ll doctor your wounds.”
“Put the stuff where I can find it. I’m not playing doctor with you.”
“Playing doctor? Seriously?” He laughed as he walked outside. “You sound like you’re ten.”
No matter what I said, he twisted it. I felt like I was back in middle school.
He walked back inside carrying my very large suitcase. “I’ll put this in the bathroom. There’s also a trash bag in there. Put all your clothes in it. They need to be washed.” After taking my luggage down the hall, he leaned against the wall in the entry way and folded his arms. “I hope you aren’t allergic to cats.”
“Do you have a cat?” I glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his feline.
Zach didn’t exactly seem like a cat person. “No, I ask all my guests that question purely for fun.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I have a cat.”
“Where is he?”
He shrugged. “He wanders.”
“What’s his name?”
That wide grin made Zach’s eyes twinkle. “Waldo.”
I shook my head. “I walked right into that one.”
“Speaking of walked. You going to walk to the bathroom?”
“Help would be nice,” I mumbled.
He leaned closer. “What was that?”
“You can carry me, okay? It hurts to walk. I’m not sure how I’ll even get into the tub.” I couldn’t even look at him. “Does that clear things up for you?”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” He picked me up out of the chair. “I have a plan.”
And I was almost one hundred percent sure I wasn’t going to like it.
He set me on the edge of the tub. “Get in and pull the curtain shut. Then drop your clothes over the side. I’ll stay close in case you need me.”
“I’m not going to shower with you in the bathroom.”
“It’s not like I’m going to watch you shower. I’m doing my best to be a gentleman. You need help. What if you fall in the shower? Then I’d have to call in a rescue team. Would that be better? You want your brother to show up to pull you out of the shower?”
Getting Zach’s help was embarrassing, but having my brother and his work buddies show up would be horrifying.
I stuck my finger right in his face. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not a single soul.”
He waved my finger away. “Especially your brother. He’d probably knock my lights out.” Zach moved to the sink and faced away from the tub.
“Don’t sneak any peeks in the mirror.”
He covered his eyes with his hands. “Happy now?”
Sitting on the edge, I removed my socks and shoes. Taking off anything that revealed more skin would only happen behind the curtain. I pulled it closed and wriggled out of my pants, trying not to put weight on my ankle. Accomplishing the task with only a few yelps and moans felt like a victory.
One by one, my items of clothing landed on the floor. I didn’t
even want to think about Zach touching my bra and panties. At least I’d worn my lacy, pretty things, and they matched. “I’m turning the shower on now.”
“I’ll throw your clothes in the wash and be right back. Do not step out of that tub until I’m back.”
I was in no position to argue. “Okay.”
The blood on my side was a tad alarming. And the only bottle—a shampoo, conditioner, and body wash combo—made me smell like an Irish fisherman and stung like a hot poker being jabbed in my side. Washing, I discovered a few remaining spines. I could feel them, but I couldn’t pull them out.
That meant Zach would be spending more time with his hands on my side. Mortified at the prospect, I rinsed off and waited.
How long could it possibly take to start the washer?
When I was tempted to brave getting out on my own, I pulled back the edge of the curtain.
Shirtless, Zach stood next to the sink. “You finished?”
“What happened to your shirt?”
“It’s in the washer. I’m trying not to transfer oils back to you. Once I get you to the couch, I’ll take a quick shower and change. For now, this is the best I can do.”
The best. That word was definitely in contention for describing his chest. I hadn’t seen Zach without a shirt since he shot hoops with Hank back in high school.
Zach had changed a bit . . . for the better. Wow. In the truck, I wondered what he looked like without a shirt, and now here he was.
“You ever going to turn off the water?”
How many ways could I embarrass myself in one night? “Don’t rush me.” I turned the knob then stuck my hand around the curtain.
“Here’s a towel. Cover up. I’ll help you out. Then once you’re out of the tub, I’ll leave so you can get dressed.”
I wrapped the large bath towel around me. Bless the man for having giant towels. “You don’t need to pick me up. If you let me use your arm . . .”
He stuck it behind the curtain. “Please watch your step.”
I gripped his arm, trying not to notice the farmer’s tan or the very-toned muscles. They temporarily distracted me from the pain, but only for a second. There was no way out of the tub without putting my weight on my ankle, and doing that hurt more than I could handle. “Um.”
“The ankle?”
“I can’t put weight on it.” I didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in the tub, but I also didn’t want shirtless Zach picking me up when I was wearing only a towel.
“Open the curtain when you’re decent.”
“It’s open.”
He backed up toward the tub. “Put your arms around my neck. I’ll give you a piggy-back ride out to the couch.”
It took my brain less than half a second to dismiss that idea.
“No! Clearly, you haven’t thought that one through. Absolutely not.” Covered in only a towel, I was not about to wrap my legs around the man.
Every visible inch of Zach’s skin turned a warm shade of pink. “I was thinking you probably didn’t want me to see you in a towel, but I—never mind.” He scooped me up like I weighed nothing—which was more a testament to his strength and less to my level of fitness—and carried me to the sofa. “I’ll grab your bag. You can get dressed here while I take a shower. Your phone, purse, and camera bag are right there.”
Getting dressed in a living room brought me to a new level of discomfort . . . until Zach walked back out with my bag.
He focused on me, his gaze sweeping over my arm and down the towel. “Will you be okay long enough for me to shower?”
I nodded. For the first time since he’d arrived at my apartment, I didn’t feel like a little kid. His gaze made me feel something else entirely.
“Did I get all the spines?”
Shaking my head, I avoided his gaze. “I think there are a few still in me.”
“I’ll take care of those when I get back out. And I should probably take you to have that ankle checked out.”
I wanted him to walk away so I could get dressed. “I sprained it. It’ll be fine. Hank can look at it when he gets here.”
“Promise to keep weight off that ankle?”
“I promise. Now go shower.”
He strode out of the room, leaving me with a mess of emotions.
I flopped open my suitcase and stared inside. So much had happened since I’d packed, I hardly remembered what was in the suitcase. Hopefully, I’d packed pajamas that were comfortable and decent.
Flannels. Perfect.
I wriggled into my underwear, glad I brought along something not lacy. Hurrying because I wasn’t sure how fast the man could shower, I slid on the pants. So far, I’d managed to keep the towel around me, but getting the shirt on would be easier without the towel. With all my cactus wounds, a bra was out of the question, but thankfully, my pajama shirt was baggy.
I let the towel fall and slipped my arms into the sleeves then rushed to button up the front. But with my talent for messing things up, I’d put the shirt on inside out.
Tugging the shirt off, I prayed he wouldn’t come darting out.
The sleeves had gotten pulled inside out. Getting my arm through wasn’t going to happen unless I fixed it.
I strained to hear the water in the pipes. Had it stopped running?
With the sleeves the way they needed to be, I put the shirt on the right way and rushed to button it up.
Hurried and flustered, I started at the top button and worked my way down.
As I buttoned that last one, my phone rang. Eve was calling.
I really needed to change my ring tone. Pasting on a smile, I prepared to fake my way through the conversation.
“How are you? I got your message earlier, but I couldn’t sneak away to call until now.” Eve sounded bubbly.
“Things are good. I mean, it isn’t what I expected . . . at all.”
“Did Hank invite Zach along?”
What part of my tone gave any hint that Zach was here? Lying to my best friend was a pointless endeavor, but I wasn’t ready to give up trying. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”
“Tell Zach I said sorry about his breakup.”
I gasped. “I am not bringing that up. Then he’ll know.”
We’d somehow managed to make it this far through the evening without bringing up the whole spying through the peephole episode. He’d probably forgotten about it, and I didn’t want to remind him.
“Then I’ll know what, Carrot?” Zach walked up, his hair still dripping wet.
Eve laughed. “I’ll talk to you later. Text me if you live through the night.”
“Very funny.” I wasn’t amused because she didn’t know the half of it. Dying was a real threat. I glanced up, prepared to ignore his question. “Did you even dry off?”
“I just took the fastest shower ever so I could get back out here to help you.” He held up his arms. “But I didn’t get the oil off in time.”
Guilt was an unwelcome companion. “I’m sorry.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Whatever you do, don’t cry. I had about all I can take of that in the park.”
Why did every word out of his mouth get my dander up?
“Let me grab the tweezers.” He continued toweling off his hair as he walked out of the room.
When he walked back to the couch, I stretched out and rolled onto my good side. “Did you lock the door? We don’t want Hank walking in unexpectedly.” I didn’t need my brother misinterpreting the situation.
“He texted to tell me he’s working all night.” Zach handed me a pillow then pulled a chair close to the couch. “Let me see your arm. Is that ticklish?”
“Not as much.” Every inch of me was ticklish to varying degrees.
For the next seven minutes, he plucked spines out of my arm. “I can’t believe I missed so many.” His rough, warm fingers trailed over my skin. “All right, I covered that area in antibiotic cream. Now for the ticklish part.”
I li
fted my shirt and held my breath. I could do this. But as soon as he touched me, giggles erupted again. I buried my face in the pillow. “Just do what you have to.”
“Slap me if I hurt you.”
“I may do that anyway.” Tensing and giggling, I let the pillow catch my tears. Yanking out the little spines hurt as much as pulling out the big ones.
When he finished, he tugged my shirt back into place. “Now to deal with your ankle.”
“It’s fine.” I shifted back into a sitting position.
He knelt on the floor and picked up my foot. “Your ankle is not fine. It’s swollen and bruised. I need to wrap it, then we’ll get ice on it.” Shockingly, his fingers didn’t leave scorch marks as they grazed over my skin.
Slowly, he wrapped an elastic bandage around my foot. “Let me know if it’s too tight. I don’t want your toes turning purple.” After crisscrossing it over my foot, he finished winding it around my lower leg and fixed it in place with the Velcro end. “How’s that? Can you move it?”
I tried rotating my ankle. “Not really.”
His rough fingers brushed my toes. “Any tingling here?”
Now there was, but it was only because the man kept touching me. It had nothing to do with the bandage on my ankle. “I don’t think it’s cutting off circulation.”
“Good. Let me grab you ice.” He left the room and returned with an ice pack and a couple of pillows. “Put your ankle up and wrap this cold pack around it.”
“You like to give orders, don’t you?” Cranky best described my current mood.
He leaned over me. “Haley, if it isn’t too much trouble could you—pretty please—elevate your ankle and ice it so that the swelling will go down and the pain will ease?”
“I liked it better when you gave orders.”
“I’ll remember that.” He winked. “I’m going to make dinner. Holler if you need anything. And by that I mean, don’t move until I come back.”
I stuck my tongue out at his back as he walked away. So much for not acting like I was ten.
Chapter 4
“You want to eat in here or on the patio? I can get a fire going out there.” Zach gazed out the back door. “It’s a nice evening.” It wasn’t hard to tell what he wanted.
One Guy I'd Never Date Page 2
