Page 9 of Vegas Baby

“You weren’t supposed to take your cervical collar off. And sponge baths only. Didn’t they tell you?”

“They told me,” she grumbles.

“I’m going to have to look — and touch — to help you,” I warn her. “I promise to only do what I need to though, okay?”

“Yes, please,” she says in a pleading voice filled with pain. “It hurts.” She whimpers, and her distress almost undoes me.

With her permission and obvious agony, I snap into action. I grab the towel from the rack and lay it over her slick body. I grab another from shelf next to the sink and use it to scoop her into my arms and out of the tub.

“Hold on to me,” I instruct her.

Her wet arms encircle my neck, her head resting on my chest. Her small frame trembles in my arms as I carry her back to the bedroom as quickly as I can, laying her down, the first towel still covering everything private. Even though I got a good eyeful of it all I won’t soon forget. Hostia puta.

I run my hands lightly over her limbs, checking for breaks or contusions and finding none. “What hurts?”

“My hip, where I fell on it. But mostly my neck,” she responds.

“Did you take any more pain meds when you got up?”

“No.”

“All right. Just lie still. I’ll be right back.” I step out and head to the kitchen to retrieve the contoured ice pack for her neck, plus another for her hip. I go back in the bedroom and show them to her. “We’re going to ice you.” I slip the ice pack around her neck. “Which hip?” She points and I place the other ice pack, then pull the half of the comforter she’s not lying on over her.

She sighs in relief. “That’s better, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll get you some food to take your medicine with, okay? All you need to do is rest.”

“Yes, sir,” she responds breathily. Joking, probably.

But holy shit. I leave abruptly to disguise the semi her response gave me.

As I make her toast and eggs, I talk myself down. I cannot think of her this way when she’s in the position she’s in.

It takes considerable effort, but I manage to calm junior down before I bring her a tray of food, drink, and drugs. Because that is what she needs.

I head back in and set it down, helping her into a sitting position, then putting her cervical collar back in place.

“I guess I should’ve asked if you knew what you were supposed to do, but just so we’re clear, you have to keep this on for a week. One. Week. No more, no less. No showers. Sponge baths only. And I know they made your first physical therapy appointment for next week, because it was on the discharge paperwork. So, until then, you need to focus on resting and not doing anything to further injure yourself. Got it?”

She blinks up at me, wide-eyed, and I’m suddenly afraid I scared her by being too harsh.

“Got it,” she finally replies with a strange expression on her face. “But I’m fine to be on my own after three days?” And even though she asked a question, she starts eating like she doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Shit.

I settle carefully on the edge of the bed. “Hey.” She reluctantly looks up at me. “I apologize if I came on too strong just now. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” she replies softly.

“Good. And for the record, I hadn’t planned on kicking you out after three days. You can stay as long as you like. But I do have to go back to work tomorrow, which is another reason you need to understand what you are and are not supposed to be doing.”

“Yes —”

“Querida dios, please don’t say ‘sir,’” I beg her, an unintended groan slipping out.

And she laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh, and it absolutely kills me in the best way possible.

“Damn, Kira, it’s good to hear you laugh.” I didn’t mean to say it, but when her face softens, the smile still on her lips, I’m not upset I did.

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