Page 95 of The More the Merrier

“Of course, I can.”

“You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

“Not rough, but far from boring.”

“And not in a fun way, I bet,” he said, chuckling.

“No, not fun at all,” I replied. I’d wanted to get a buzz, turn off my brain, and then go home. Taking care of Kendall put a damper on the original plans, but perhaps we were being brought together for a reason. I certainly wasn’t upset at her.

Backing away from the bar, I followed Grant down the hallway to his office. He bought the space years ago when it was a run-down buffet and created the best small-town bars I’d ever been to. It was one of my favorite spots to escape from the world. I enjoyed Grant’s company, and he created a great atmosphere. We found Kendall stewing on a small couch, arms folded across her chest, and her legs were tapping up and down.

She immediately balked. “I don’t need help.”

“If you saw someone tumble from the height you were at and then land the way you did, what would you suggest?” Grant posed the question while she looked back and forth between the two of us.

“I don’t need a sexy medic—” Kendall swallowed her words. Though I very much wanted to tease her, I let the statement go since she sounded like she’d had more than a few drinks. “If someone can call me a cab, I’ll go home.”

“If I don’t at least get you checked out, it’s a liability. Humor me, okay?” Grant winked.

“Fine.” She stopped tapping her legs, but her expression didn’t change.

“What happened?” I went into first responder mode instead of addressing her issue from earlier. Not to mention that she’d flirted with me and then called me sexy. I’d obviously been on her mind as well.

“I was dancing on top of a table, and uh, lost my balance.” She shrugged. “I smacked my head on a chair on the way down. Grant carried me here.”

“Does anything hurt?” I didn’t have my gear on me, but it was in my car if I needed to grab something.

“My pride,” she lamented.

“Ouch,” Grant agreed. “But you managed to sneak in a few shots after they cut you off.”

“I can’t help the fact that everyone was offering me drinks like they were going out of style.” Kendall rolled her eyes.

“May I see if anything is broken or bleeding?” I found a pair of gloves in my inside jacket pocket and tugged them on. I treated her as if she were any other patient of mine.

“Sure.”

I started at the top of her head, along the back, feeling for bumps or cuts. Nothing seemed off. I ran my hands down her neck, over her shoulders, and downward, continuing a basic assessment until I reached her feet and crouched in front of her. “Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“Is anything physically hurting you?”

“My right ankle. I stupidly wore heels and when I went to stand up after I fell, I twisted it.”

“Is that why you’re barefoot?” I shook my head. Taking her tiny foot in my hand, I rolled it gently, feeling for anything out of place.

“Yeah. Are you done?”

I shot her a look as I straightened to my full height, but I had no business lecturing her. She had done nothing wrong other than drink a little too much. Still, it worried me. If she was engaging in this sort of behavior after her outburst earlier, then something deeper wormed at her.

“You seem all right, but if your ankle swells or your head hurts, you should consider making an appointment with your doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Kendall stood up. She put pressure on her ankle and winced. The motion did not go unnoticed. She plucked a pair of high heels and her purse from the other side of the couch while pretending that she was completely fine. I saw right through it.

“Do not put those spikes on again, Kendall.”

“I won’t put them on, but these are my favorite.”

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