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His palm was warm and steady on her thigh. “No. It’s a graze. I’m sure it hurts like hell, but you’re lucky. We need to clean and stitch it though.”

“I guess I’m glad you don’t have to dig through my flesh.”

He opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and she pressed her face into the pillow. Warmth filled her gut, spreading through her body. Her limbs tingled, and she waited for another wave of fog to carry her to la-la land.

Dallas’s fingers gripped her just above her knee. “Sorry,” he croaked.

Cold liquid hit her flesh, and then the fiery zing of alcohol swarmed through the wound. She jerked, her muscles spasmed, and pain shot up her side. She let out a stream of curses and tried to tear away her leg, but Dallas’s hold kept her in place.

“One more.”

“No way.” She shoved at his shoulder, but he dumped the bottle again. Another vicious bite of agony hit her. “Asshole,” she hissed.

Dallas mumbled an apology and rubbed his hand up and down her thigh. She melted back onto the pillow, her body drenched in sweat.

The crinkling of plastic came next. She closed her eyes. The angry throb of her leg matched her elevated heart rate. Her stomach closed in around the liquor in her system, heightening her nausea. Oh, crap. She might really get sick after all.

“It’s not too bad. With all the blood you lost I thought for sure it’d be worse.”

She didn’t dare turn her head to watch what he was doing. His hand was on her skin again, this time less forcefully. “Just some numbing cream.” His fingers moved over her with a featherlight touch, and the cold cream cooled her flaming skin.

“That’s nice,” she said. Her words came out garbled.

“I’ll give that a minute to take effect. Do you need some water?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to move yet.”

“Are you sick?”

She groaned.

A light laugh permeated the soft clouds that now carried her. She frowned and, without looking, swatted him. Her knuckles connected with his abdomen. “Are you laughing at my expense?”

Her fingers slid down his stomach to rest on his lap. Gosh, he was warm. She turned her hand over so her palm rested on his jeans.

“Considering I’ve never seen this side of you . . . yeah, a little.”

“Mmm. Well, you won’t see it again.”

Pressure poked around her wound. “Feel that?” he asked.

“Kind of. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good.” Plastic crinkled again. “Hold still.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled through her nose. More pressure on the wound, and a little stinging, but nothing she couldn’t breathe through. She exhaled and took a few more deep breaths.

“Doing good.”

“Please don’t make it ugly,” she said softly.

“Nothing could look ugly on you.” His tone didn’t carry a note of flirtation, just distraction. Another minute passed. “All done.”

She lifted her head and turned to survey the damage. The wound wasn’t nearly as big as she’d expected. Rather than a grotesque chunk missing from her leg, there was an inch-long gash, and the skin had been neatly pulled together over it.

“Thanks. Why do I have the feeling you’ve done that before?” She rolled onto her back, keeping her knee bent.

“More times than I care to count.”

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