Page 114 of Perfectly Grumpy

“It could’ve been an accident?—”

“Lauren. This was no accident. Bart’s the best shot out here.”

I help her to her feet, but she’s in too much pain to walk to the cabin. Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms.

She shakes her head. “Tate, no. We’ll be easy targets if you carry me.”

“You think I care about getting hit right now?” She’s so beautiful this close. “You’re hurt. All that matters is making sure you’re okay.”

I move quickly through the trees, cradling her close to my chest. Every few seconds, I glance around, but I don’t see Bart the rest of the way.

When I reach the cabin, I set my gun on the porch and lay her gently on the sofa bed.

“You okay?” I ask, brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek. Her face twists in pain, and it’s killing me not to fix it.

“I’ll be okay,” she says. “It’s just a welt.”

“It’s not just a welt,” I say, crossing to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit, my anger replaced with the overwhelming need to take care of her. “Honestly, it looks like someone slapped you with a hot skillet.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s exactly the image I needed burned into my brain.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of vivid similes.”

She readjusts her body on the sofa, trying to see what I’m sneaking from the kit. “Please tell me you’re not going to use the antiseptic against me.”

“No promises after what you did to me.”

“Okay, this one will help with the pain.” I kneel beside her with a small tube and twist off the cap, sniffing it once. “Minty. Or possibly travel toothpaste from the bottom of your grandma’s purse.”

“That’s maybe not as reassuring as you might hope.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been trained in the fine art of soothing PR professionals.”

Her mouth twitches.

I carefully lift her injured leg, positioning it so I can reach thewound better, my touch as gentle as possible. I evenly apply the cream to the angry red mark blooming across her calf. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers, and I force myself to focus on the task, not the fact that she’s letting me touch her like this. “Let me know if I’m hurting you,” I murmur.

“You’re not,” she says. “Yet.”

I glance up, stopping for a second. “Good. I charge extra for pain and suffering.”

“After nursing you back to health, this is the payment I get?” she asks, fighting a grin. “And just for the record, you complaineda lotmore than me.”

“Hey! I just carried you across enemy lines while risking my life. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m just saying,” she says. “I’m clearly the better patient.”

I lean back on my heels, twisting the cap back on. “Only if you survive this tragic flesh wound.”

She laughs, and the knot of worry in my chest loosens. Despite everything that’s gone wrong today, this moment feels like something real between us. Even if we don’t win the Family Olympics, I’ve already gotten something so much better.Her.

This week, I’ve seen a side of Lauren that she never shows at the office—a caring, funny, wildly charming side she keeps locked away under layers of control. She’s the woman who makes me laugh when I’m serious, who talks me through panic attacks in small spaces, who fights for my stolen computer like it’s her own. The only woman who makes me want to be better than I am.

And sitting here, taking care of her while she lets me see her vulnerable, I realize the truth I’ve been avoiding all week: I’m falling for her.Hard.The kind of falling that changes everything—that makes you rearrange your whole life around one person.

It makes me wish this week would never end, that we could stay in this bubble where professional boundaries don’t matter, where I’m not her client and she’s not my PR manager. A place where we’re just Sunny and Sheriff.

Because Lauren isn’t just the woman I’m pretending to date anymore. She’s the woman I can’t imagine my life without.

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