Page 17 of Overexposed

“Oh yeah,” Ollie said as he rose, then raked a hand through his hair. “He was banging her head off the car. And she is really woozy, threw up already.”

“I am not,” Slick argued, and she made a pathetic attempt to shove me back and stand. Yeah, she definitely was woozy.

Cupping her face, I lifted her gaze to mine. The lights were definitely hurting her. “Cooperate please,” I said. “Let me identify the issues and we can take care of it, and then we’ll turn the lights down again.”

Her grimace needed no interpretation, nor did her wince as I began to work my fingers over her scalp. I tried to keep it gentle and ignore the silken feeling of her hair on my skin. A little tougher considering I didn’t have to imagine the spill of it now.

“Ow, fuck.” The sharpness in the first word and the echo of pain in the second assured me that I’d found the tender spot. There was some swelling, but I wasn’t feeling the bone move.

Thatwas a relief.

“Easy,” I said as I rose and leaned over her to part her hair and get a good look. There was no blood on my fingers, so I didn’t think it had broken the skin. That said, she needed care.

“Can we turn down the lights now?” If she didn’t sound so damn miserable, I might have left them on just to get even with her for her ditching me to wake up alone. But that was being a dick and I didn’t want to be a dick right now.

Maybe later, when she was feeling better.

“Hey, Ollie, turn them back down and get me a couple of ice packs and some water.”

“Sure,” Ollie said. “Right away, Mr. Gemini, I’ll get that for you.”

I ignored the sarcasm. “Get the med kit for your hand too. You tore up your knuckles.”

“Fuck,” Ollie swore as he strode out of the room after dimming the lights. I leaned back on my knees and staredup at her. The little sigh of relief as it went darker wasn’t manufactured.

This was the same woman who kicked my ass with her sharp tongue and playful gambling. She’d also rocked my fucking world, and I’d gotten it up more than a few times that night. It had been a long time since that had happened.

“Hang in there, Slick,” I said. “We’ll get you fixed up. You have any allergies I should know about?”

“You have a medical degree that I should know about?” The snappy response pulled a reluctant smile to my face.

“Certified paramedic,” I told her. “Helps with the work and when we get into scrapes.”

Her mouth formed a silent O.

“If you want a doctor, I can totally take you to one.” Ollie probably should have forced the issue with her. The longer I studied her eyes, the more I worried. They were definitely dilated and she wasn’t focusing well. I had no doubt there was a concussion, but now I had to worry about a subdural hematoma.

“No,” she argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“Still singing that tired verse?” Ollie asked as he returned with a bucket of ice that also held water bottles and ice packs in one hand and the first aid kit in the other.

“Look,” she said, twisting to try and find him but she wavered a little. Not a good sign. “You saved my ass, I appreciate it. But you don’t need me to be here and I’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Damn, Slick,” I said before Ollie could jump into the conversation. “Way to wound a guy. I know you got off… I even remember you screaming my name more than a couple of times.” My dick gave a pulse at the reminder.

“I guess you two really do know each other,” Ollie muttered as I cracked open one of the water bottles and pressed it into Slick’s hand along with a couple of painkillers.

“You could say that,” I told him. “Drink that slowly. Your throat sounds bad. Gonna wrap an ice pack on it and put another on your head.”

I was glad she wasn’t bleeding—at least visibly. She couldn’t quite hide the pained expression as she took a drink.

Her eyes were half-closed and it gave me time to just study her while I wrapped one of the ice packs around her throat. The Velcro would keep it in place. We had all kinds of ice packs in the freezer. Our injuries varied, so we needed to be flexible.

The night I met her, she had been dressed in jeans and chunky motorcycle boots. They’d been cute on her and had done fantastic things for her legs, but this was a whole different style. She wore the same boots but instead of a T-shirt, she had a nice blouse and black skirt. Nothing high-end but definitely attractive. Maybe a waitress uniform? Was she a cater waiter maybe? Ollie’s suit coat didn’t go with the rest of the outfit, but maybe that was my jealousy talking.

Frankly, her outfit screamed “comfortable” and not “please hit on me.” Hell, it didn't even say “let’s party.” The barest trace of makeup seemed present, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Then I checked her fingers to reassure myself.

No rings.

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