Page 29 of Never Enough

“Preparing to doctor your ankle.” He brought all the items over and set them on the futon next to her, then dragged a kitchen chair in front of Haskell. He motioned with his hand toward her foot. “Give it over.”

She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned her face away from him.

He sighed. “Look, I can grab your ankle myself, but then I run the risk of hurting you, and I don’t want to make it feel worse. Help me out here, tiny.”

With an air of frustration, she turned her head back in his direction, her lips pursed, her eyes boring into his. “I told you not to call me that,” she grumbled, although secretly, she felt a pleasurable tingle run through her when he did.

He motioned with his hand again. Reluctantly, she lifted her leg with both hands so that she could keep the foot stabilized and gingerly set it on his thigh. Once it was steady, she watched him smooth his hands down her calf. When he reached the tender area, his touch became even lighter, checking more to see where the swelling started and ended rather than probing the injury.

Because he didn’t look at her while he waschecking her ankle, she was free to check out his features in depth. His blond hair was in a high and tight cut, the top too long to be regulation, so he clearly wasn’t in the military. His skin was tan like he spent a lot of time outdoors, and she wondered if he had tan lines or not. The “or not” part made her want to pluck at the neckline of her shirt to fan air down her torso. She also noticed the laugh lines around his eyes. He was clearly in his mid-twenties, but based on his banter, he loved to laugh, and the lines made him even more handsome.

“Well, I have to call you something.” He began to weasel a finger in between her foot and the back of her climbing shoe.

She hissed at the pressure it placed on her swollen ankle.

“Sorry,” he apologized. He glanced at her face and winked. “Your fight response when cornered and all that hissing you do reminds me of an alley cat.” He nodded. “New name. Kitty cat. I like it.”

She groaned and flopped against the futon’s back. “I think I prefer tiny.”

His grin at her frustration lit up his entire face, and it made her want to smack him, kiss him, as well as make him smile some more, all at the same time. Lordy, he was gorgeous! His grin grew further like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Then he turned his attention to her tiny foot on his leg, and as gently as he could, he slipped the shoe off. Since she wasn’t wearing a sock, it was easy to see the discoloration that had already started. She felt the calluses on his hands as he ran them one last time over her foot, his concentration tight. “It doesn’t look too bad. Just a moderate tear, I think.”

He filled the plastic bag with ice, tied off the ends in a knot, and placed the bag draped over her foot so that it hung over both sides of her ankle. As she sat with her foot in his lap, he began to unfold the hand towels he’d pulled from the kitchen. Two ofthem he left folded and off to the side. He used scissors on the third to make several small snips in the ends about one inch apart each.

As he tore the towel into thin strips, he started talking again. “So, what’s your name, kitty cat?”

She huffed. “Why do you need to know? Not like we’re going to be besties or anything.”

“Kitty cat is good for dirty talk, but when I call out your name later, I’d like it to be an actual name.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded.

He laughed. “Close your mouth, tiny. You’re catching flies.” He went back to wrapping her ankle.

“It’s Haskell,” she murmured.

His eyes flicked up to hers without moving his head. “Unusual name. Suits you. Mine’s Sawyer.”

He continued to work on her ankle.

“I don’t recognize your accent. Where are you from?”

“Jo-Burg.”

“You’re from South Africa?” she shyly asked.

He nodded.

“I heard you speaking another language. Was that Afrikaans?”

“Ken jy Afrikaans?” he asked.

Her eyes looked at him blankly.

“Yes. It was.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard it spoken before.”

“It’s not common outside of the country.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “You’re obviously from England but not London. Northern?”

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