Page 28 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

“We need to get that shoe off and take a look at your ankle before it swells even more,” Ethan said, following closely behind. Before Julia could respond, he dropped to one knee and began to untie her shoelaces, loosening the top part of her right shoe efficiently while holding her leg steady at the calf.

All she could do was watch, breathing carefully in through her nose and out through her mouth as the pain shot up her body in waves. She gritted her teeth, though, and allowed him his ministrations because he was right—things would get worse, and it was always better to deal with them head-on.

Just a little something she’d learned in life.

Luckily, he was swift and he was careful, and her shoe and sock were off before she could suffer through the process too much. She leaned forward to take a look just as Ethan bit out a curse and Maggie grimaced.

Admittedly, it wasn’t lookinggreat. Her ankle had swelled up to balloon-like proportions and was turning purple in some areas. She attempted to turn her foot slightly and let out a hiss at the pain of even that minor exertion.

“You need a doctor—”

“I can’t go to the doctor—”

Her and Ethan’s words overlapped one another, and he looked at her incredulously. “Are you serious right now? You need to get that looked at.”

“You exaggerate,” she scoffed, trying to look casual as she crossed her legs, avoiding touching anywhere near her extremelyswollen ankle. “I’ve had worse,” she added, which was decidedly untrue.

“No, you haven’t,” Ethan said flatly.

“How would you know?” she shot back, a reminder to both of them that for the past eight years she could have broken every bone in her body and he’d have been none the wiser.

The words appeared to shut him down, and she watched as he looked away, jaw tense.

“I need ice,” he spoke finally, directing his words to Maggie instead of Julia.

She was already nodding, ready to help. “Okay, sure. How—?”

“Put some crushed ice in a large ziplock or something that we can wrap around her ankle, and bring me a hand towel or something as well. We need to ice it, then apply pressure and elevate. She has to do those thingsnow, before she’s totally incapacitated this week.”

Ahhh. Yes. Of course. Now his concern made sense. If she was incapable of walking around, she wouldn’t be able to play host to his Hollywood chess pieces and take them on their grand romantic tours and show them around the estate. It wouldn’t do to have their proprietor for the week completely out of commission, now, would it?

She rolled her eyes and attempted to sit up, hoisting herself up on one leg again. “Maggie, you don’t worry about any of that, I can handle it. You just go ahead and serve up dinner while Ethan here takes a warm shower and changes. I’ll get the ice—”

“Are you nuts?” Ethan glowered down at her, color heightening in his cheeks in a way that usually indicated his annoyance turning into anger. “You aren’t going anywhere. Sit down and we’ll—”

“Please,” she interrupted him acidly, cutting him offmidsentence, “donotpresume you can tell me what to do at any point, now or ever.” Her voice dripped with venom, and she could see Maggie regarding her, aghast at this new side of her employer.

The bastard, however, had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Ice, compression, elevation.” He guided her gently but firmly back to the couch, as if she hadn’t spoken at all and certainly as though her caustic tone had done nothing to him, and forced her to sit. “Put your foot up, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“Wait!” This time something in her tone did give him pause, because he stopped to look at her warily. “I’ll follow your orders, but please”—thispleasewas much softer, more beguiling—“can I do it in a warm bath? If I have to spend one more minute in these soggy clothes, I think I might actually die.”

Ethan looked at Maggie, sharing a glance with her as though they were co-conspirators. When she gave him a slight nod, Julia wanted to screamTraitor!at her. But the truth was, the quicker she acquiesced, the sooner she would be in the bath, and then, hopefully, enjoying a delicious warm meal afterward. So she kept her mouth shut and waited for her keepers to enact their decision.

“All right, I’ll help her downstairs, you get the ice and towel.”

Maggie nodded and jetted off to do her task.

“You know, I don’t really need—Ethan!” All protests went ignored as she was once again scooped up in Ethan’s arms and carried to her room.

* * *

Letting out asigh, Julia sank deeper into the warm bath, making sure her foot stayed elevated on the rim, with the ice and towel wrapped securely around it.

After Ethan had deposited her in her room, and then required an obscene number of assurances that she would be fine getting into the tub by herself before he actually left, she had quickly discarded her wet clothing and hobbled to the adjacent en suite.

All the renovations she had done to the house held some sort of purpose, an ideal standard (within budget restrictions) that she thought guests of Donwell Cottage would enjoy. As such, all were chosen with someone else in mind—or somethingelse: mass appeal, profit margins, aesthetic. She had also wanted to respect the history of the cottage in homage to Ethan’s family. His parents hadn’t told her that was necessary, but there was a certain element of preservation she wanted to uphold. Even in redoing the walk-out basement, transforming it from the dingy cellar it had been to the functional kitchen, laundry room, and living space it had become, she had done it all with a purpose, with minimal frills, using things that wouldwork, things that would bring value. In other words, it wasn’t personal.