He pulled up a chair and gingerly lifted my ankle onto it. I didn't protest as he wrapped the ice pack around my ankle. He had even put a towel around it so that the coolness wouldn't sting. How many times had he done this before? Set traps for women and baited them into the homes of his lawn mowing clients?
"Here," he said and handed me a pill and a glass of water. "This'll help. It looks like a sprain. You should stay off of it for a few weeks."
I looked down at the pill. "What is it?"
"Advil. It's all I have."
It's all the owners of this house have. He was acting like he owned the place, which I knew he didn't. I ran by here every day during the week. His truck, touting his lawn care service, was only here on Thursday mornings between 8 and 8:30 a.m. Maybe this whole act worked on other women. But not me. I knew his schedule. I knew he was lying. The only question was why?
I was about to tell him off when he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I just stared at him.
"Call someone to come get you. Unless you want me to drive you. I really don't mind."
Neither option would work for me. Eventually, he'd have to move on to his next client. He couldn't sit here with me all day. I'd pretend to make a call. And then whenever he left, I'd hobble home. Easy. Option C it was. I typed in my house number and pulled the phone to my ear. I listened to my voice on the answering machine and waited for the beep.
"Hi," I said into the receiver. "It's me."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fumbling with something in his hands.
I turned away. "Everything's fine," I said, trying my best to make it seem like I was talking to someone who cared. Or anyone for that matter. "But you know how clumsy I can be." I laughed awkwardly at my own joke. "I tripped on my run and busted up my ankle. I'm sure it'll be fine in a few days but I can't exactly walk home." I paused for dramatic effect. "Mhm," I said into the receiver like I was listening to what someone else had to say.
I gasped when I felt his fingers on the back of my hand.
"I promised you a Band-Aid," he whispered. He wiped the disinfecting cloth against my palm like it was nothing. Like he didn't know his touch was making every inch of my body ache for the same attention.
I realized I hadn't said anything into the phone in a long time. "Mhm," I said again, forgetting the play I was putting on. My voice hitched on the word.
He looked up at me and smiled.
I was hoping he hadn't heard the quiver. But apparently he had. "Just come when you can, bye!" I ended the call.
He looked back down and smoothed the Band-Aid into place.
"All better," he said like I actually was a five year old kid. Which meant maybe he was a man in a white van offering free candy.
I bit the inside of my lip. He didn't look like he wanted to harm me. He looked like he wanted to make sure I wasn't in pain.
"Are they coming?" he asked.
"What?"
"Your friend. Are they coming to get you?"
"Oh. Yeah." I pulled my hand away from his. "She’s at a dentist appointment. She’s still in the waiting room but said that she’d be here as soon as she can."
"You didn't tell her where."
Crap. Had I really not? I guess I wasn't going to win best actress for that performance. I waved my hand dismissively. "I'll wait outside. She'll see me. She lives down the street from me. She has to drive by here either way, so..." I let my voice trail off. My excuse was pathetic. Also, I didn't want to sit outside. At least in here, the neighbors couldn't see what I was doing.
My watch started beeping again. I turned off the timer so it would stop.
"Somewhere to go?" he asked with a smile.
"Something like that." I needed to distract him. He was asking too many questions. "Do you think you could search for something stronger than Advil?" Really? My distraction was for him to pilfer their medicine cabinet for drugs? I wished I was speechless at the sight of him again. That was easier to manage.
He looked down at my ankle. "The Advil should kick in soon. I don't have anything stronger."
"You didn't even look."
He lowered his eyebrows slightly.
I needed a second away from him to clear my head. "Please, just..."
"There isn't anything stronger in the house. Do you want me to take you to the ER?"
"No." It came out faster and louder than I intended. I pushed my bangs off my forehead. Why was he so terrible at coming up with plans?
"Jesus." He sat down next to me and leaned in far too close.
Oh my God, he’s going to kiss me. My mouth suddenly felt dry.
"I didn't realize you hit your head,” he said. “Maybe we should go to the hospital."
"What?” It took me a second to realize that my fantasies were on hyperdrive. I touched my forehead. “I didn't hit my head." I leaned away from him. He was too close. His intoxicating smell was making me dizzy. "I don't need to go to the ER. My ankle is just killing me."
"You have a bruise..."
I caught my reflection in the mirror again. A small bruise was clearly visible above my left eyebrow. I pushed my bangs back in place. "Well, it doesn't hurt."
"You could have a concussion."
"I'm always this snippy. It has nothing to do with my head."
He laughed. This time I wasn't sure it was at me though. It seemed more like it was with me.
"Well, I'm glad you're always this snippy. I thought it was just your reaction to me."
No, it's definitely not you. Instead of speaking the words in my head I simply nodded.
"I'll go see if I can't find something stronger. Keep your eyes open for me, just in case." He lightly patted my knee.
Every time he touched me it felt like a spark coursed through my whole body. It made me want to rip off clothes and make buttons fly across the room. I swallowed hard as I watched him disappear down the hall again. I knew I shouldn’t have come in here with him. Surely I was going to do something stupid. In a stranger’s home. I looked around the room, searching for any hint at who it belonged to. The only thing I knew for sure was that they didn't have children. Everything was too white. Or maybe their kids just weren't allowed in this room.
Chapter 5
He came back carrying two glasses and a bottle filled with an amber colored liquid. Bourbon maybe. Or whiskey. I never drank. I wasn't supposed to mix alcohol with my pills.
"Will this work?" he asked and set the glasses down on the coffee table. He popped the cap off and started to pour some of the alcohol into the cups before I responded.
My ankle was killing me. I glanced to the left and looked out at the empty street. No one would know. The last time I drank was probably in college. I never liked the way it made me feel. Like I was completely out of control.
If I drank, I'd probably say something embarrassing. Most likely, I'd probably hit on him. I couldn't let my carnal needs take over. I turned back to him. I couldn't let anything about my life slip to the man who stared at me, patiently waiting for me to take the glass he offered me.