Page 89 of Buckin' Around

“Yeah, a little,” I rasp.

“Alright, Epsom salts plus magnesium bath for you. Then I’m popping it in a sling to immobilize it.”

Her grabby little hands are turning me back toward the hallway. I’m ushered to the bathroom.

“We have all that?”

The way her ire turns to the most epic eye roll in the history of womankind has me chuckling.

“You need a hand to get undressed?” she asks.

“No, Riles.”

“Fine. Soak until the water goes cool. Then I’ll see you in your room for the sling. I’m going to put Ivy down.” She turns on the taps, checking the temperate before heading toward the doorway. Hesitating, she turns back. “Ivy’s in your bed for tonight. Hope that’s okay.”

If I had my way, all three of us would be in my bed.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Spence.”

Tugging the door almost closed behind her, she disappears down the hallway. The tub is half full by the time I get my jeans off. My socks go next, then I unbutton the shirt the rest of the way. All with my good arm, because pain sucks balls.

I move my fucked arm ever so slightly.

Stabbing pain shoots through the joint and down my arm.

“Ah, fuck.”

If I can’t lose the shirt from the opposite shoulder, I’m going to have to get in the bath half dressed.

I try again, hissing when I get the same painful result.

With a groan, I hang my head. I’m down to my underwear, and I can’t get the motherfucking shirt off.

The tub is filling fast.

Fuck it.

“Riles?” I call out.

Footsteps pad from across the hall, and her head pops through the door as it opens. “Yeah?”

“Help a man out?”

“Um, you sure?” Her eyes are diverted to the almost overflowing tub.

“Come on. I need your help, O’Malley.”

She slips inside and rushes to the taps, twisting them off. Reaching into the water, she pulls the plug, draining the tub until it’s around half again. Turning back, she wipes her hands on her denim shorts. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, and she is looking anywhere but at me.

“I’m not going to make a move. That’s not what this is,” I say softly.

She stops, inches from where I stand.

Her gaze lifts as her hands slide into her back pockets.

The V-neck tank top she wears shows off her skin, more tanned now than when we first met at my parents’ that night of the family dinner. A little sunshine looks good on my girl. Her chest rises and falls in deep, quick cycles as her lips part, eyes searching my own.