Page 115 of The More the Merrier

“I didn’t think to bring my phone. Nothing’s ever happened in the thirty years I've been chopping firewood.”

“Always take your phone with you.” I grabbed him around the waist, bracing him against my side. Heading toward the house, I hoped his injury wasn’t serious. I’d seen people lose limbs from chopping accidents. “Where is the wound?”

“Above my knee, but thankfully lower than my cock. It’s not bleeding much. At least I don’t think it is.” He attempted humor but panted in between words, telling me he wasn’t as good as he appeared.

“New plan.” That knowledge changed my course, and I released my hold. “Keep your hand on it.”

“I can walk, Dalton.”

“I’m sure you can, but we need to hurry.” I couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but I was certain he read into what I didn’t say. Instead of wasting time arguing, I lowered myself toward the ground to adjust my center of gravity. It enabled me to lift him across my shoulders, evenly distributing his weight without putting pressure on his legs. I needed to assess his injury sooner rather than later.

“I didn’t hurt myself that badly, man.”

“We won’t know how bad it is until I can get a good look at it.”

“Carrying me like a pretty princess is going to make me fall in love with you, Prince Charming,” he grumbled, likely never having been picked up by anyone else in his life.

“If you nicked something major, lumbersnack, you could bleed out.”

“Lumbersnack,” he repeated, still panting. “Put me down, man. You’re going to drop me.”

“I’ve never dropped anyone. Now shut up, and don’t fight me.” Speaking would exert additional energy he didn’t need to waste. Hustling, I carried him up the stairs and kicked the door open. Kendall screamed, startling. She threw her hands over her heart.

“I’m sorry, darling. Can you please get my bag? It’s in the living room.”

She recovered, shutting the door behind us, then immediately jumped into nurse mode. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and she nodded before hurrying to get my equipment.

“Did you just break down my door, charming?”

“No, I left it ajar. I had a bad feeling.” Setting Grant on the kitchen island, I did my best not to jostle him. He was muttering curses under his breath, and I hated to cause him undue pain. Kendall returned in record time, handing me my medical shears and a pair of gloves. “Try to relax and don’t talk unless it’s important.”

“You don’t have to cut my pants off,” Grant protested. “Ask me nicely, and I’ll remove them.”

“Your jeans are already torn beyond repair.” Cutting down the seam of his pants on his injured leg, I scanned for any major indications of a serious issue and saw none. Handing the scissors to Kendall, I pointed to either side. She set the shears next to us, donned gloves, and put pressure on the wound without further explanation. “Slowly move your hand, Grant.”

He did what I asked without protest. Assessing the wound, I was relieved to see it was long, but thankfully not deep. Grant narrowly avoided a more serious situation. He still needed to take it easy, but that was more do-able than an urgent trip to the hospital. Staying home with Grant and taking care of him and Kendall sounded like a wonderful way to enjoy a snowy weekend. “You are extremely lucky.”

“My pants don’t feel the same way.”

“Your ass isn’t going to feel much better when I’m done with you, either.”

“I’ve been handling my shit for years.” He swallowed hard. “You’re not going to magically keep me in line with one rule.”

“Two rules.” I smirked. My nonchalant tone and the way I was already handling him did nothing but cause him to roll his eyes. He kept saying he wasn’t a brat, but I knew better.

“Two rules.” Grant shook his head. He rested his hand on top of Kendall’s head, lightly running his fingers through her hair. “What are they?”

“Listen to what I tell you to do and be honest with me and yourself. Do you agree?”

His Adam's apple bopped up and down as he stared at me. Though he’d already verbally agreed to a relationship, we hadn’t gotten the time we needed to delve into our dynamic specifically. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. What’s your safeword?”

“Snickerdoodle.”

Though I very much wanted to tease him about the choice, he was likely playing off Kendall’s baked good theme. “We’ll talk more after we get you all patched up.” I dabbed a disinfectant around the inner edge of the wound. Grant jerked his leg and his hand at the same time, tugging on Kendall’s hair. She let out a low moan.

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