Page 62 of Wish You Were Mine

“I don’t think so. Just bruised.” To make sure, I pulled at the waistband of my shorts and looked beneath them. “Nothing is bleeding.”

“Good.” He withdrew the compression sock. “Would you rather put this on yourself?”

I tried to bend forward, but my hip throbbed. “Can you do it please?”

His expression softened. “Of course.”

With brisk, efficient movements, he removed my shoe, peeled off my wet sock, dried my foot with an unused sweat towel, and pulled the compression sock over my toes and around my heel. It came up to mid-calf, and I couldn’t help wincing. The pressure wasn’t particularly comfortable.

“Too much?” he asked.

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a strange feeling.”

“I know. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve had to use these things.”

I chuckled. “Do you make a habit of injuring yourself?”

“It goes with the sport.” His face darkened. “I am really sorry about this. You told me you were rusty, and I promised we’d be fine, and here you are. Hurt.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” I swung around, returning my legs inside the vehicle. “It was an accident. No one could have known it would happen. Like you said, that branch wasn’t there earlier, and we were going slow. It was just unlucky timing.”

“If we’d been going more slowly, I might have noticed it.” He looked frustrated, and even though I didn’t blame him at all, I understood why. It was easy to carry guilt, and based on how reluctant he’d been to pursue anything with me, I suspected that guilt weighed more heavily on him than others.

I forced a smile. “Take me home and coddle me and I’ll be fine.”

He gave a strained smile back. “Sure.”

He packed away the first aid kit, loaded the cycles back onto the rack, and got in the driver’s side. He started the engine and drove us back along the narrow road we’d taken earlier.

While we were driving, he didn’t speak much. He seemed to be brooding. It worried me a little, but his mood eased the further we got from Castle Hill. By the time we reached my place, the strain lines around his mouth had disappeared, even if he still seemed a little off balance.

“Wait here,” he instructed, and I watched, mildly amused, as he unloaded my bike and wheeled it to the porch. He opened the vehicle’s rear door and slung my bag over his shoulder. Finally, he opened the passenger side door and helped me out.

We hobbled up the path to the front door. I told Asher where to find the key in my bag, and after a brief search, he pulled it out with an exclamation of victory and slotted it into the lock.Once inside, he guided me to the sofa in the living room.

“Sit here,” he said, maneuvering me onto the end cushion.

My lips twitched at his bossiness. “Sir, yes, sir.”

He ignored me and reached around to pull the lever that raised the leg rest. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He hurried into the kitchen and returned less than a minute later with two ice packs and a bag of frozen peas. He positioned one ice pack and the peas around my ankle and passed me the other ice pack, which had been wrapped in a tea towel.

“For your hip,” he said.

“Thanks.” I pressed it against my side and leaned back on the sofa, closing my eyes. “I have to say, this isn’t how I imagined today going.”

He snorted. “Me neither.”

I bit my lip, unsure whether he intended to stay. If I wanted clarification about what exactly this was, then now was the time to do it.

“Asher,” I said slowly, “is this a date?”

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the front door.

He jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

He strode out, and I heard voices as he opened the door, then footsteps down the hallway.

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