Page 57 of Harry

Bending down in front of her, he eased off her house slippers and wrapped her the towel around her feet with trembling hands. He had heard her screams and thought the worst.

“It is fine. You will be fine.” He said soothingly, keeping the towel on her. “I am going to fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom. Don’t move.”

She nodded, pressing a hand on her stomach. She had been careless, and it could have been worse.

In the bathroom, Harry had to take a moment to steady himself. His muscles were still quivering, and his knees were weak. He thought something dreadful had happened to her. Heaving out a breath, he grabbed the kit and hurried back into the kitchen.

“How does it feel?”

“Not too bad. It’s not stinging anymore.”

“I’ll just put some cream on it. Were you making tea?” He asked as he carefully unwrapped the towel. To his relief, the skin was not bruised or swollen. Taking out the gel, he squeezed some into his palm and started rubbing it into her skin.

“Yes.”

“You should have called me.”

“I can make tea on my own. I am not an invalid.”

He looked up from his task and give her a long stare.

“I was upset with you and was not careful.”

“So, it’s my fault.”

“Technically, yes. Are you finished?”

“Still mad at me, I see.”

“You’re an ass. Just move.”

“No. I’m not finished.” He applied the gel to the rest of her feet and then capped the tube and put it away.

Rising, he lifted her off the stool and into his arms.

“Put me down.”

“Shut up.”

Her eyes flared. “Don’t you dare speak to me…”

“I’ll speak to you however I choose.” He strode straight into their bedroom and dumped her on the bed. “Stay there while I go clean up the mess you made and see about getting you the tea.”

“I don’t….”She folded her hands under her breasts as he simply strode out of the room.

“Oh!” Her eyes burned, and she could feel her blood boiling. Sometimes she could not stand him. He was arrogant and entitled and completely impossible. Blowing out a breath, she tried to get her anger under control.

She was still stewing when he came back with the tray. He had included a cup of tea and some crackers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed the tray over her lap.

“Drink.”

She bristled at his tone. “Make me.”

They sat there glaring at each other for a few minutes, before he sighed. “Please. I’m not dealing with anything the way I’m supposed to. I heard you scream and feared the worse. One minute we were fighting and the next I hear you screaming.”

He dragged his fingers through his hair and dislodged the thong he had secured it in. “I’m on edge and taking it out on you.”

“Why are you on edge?” His confession had diffused her anger.

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