Her eyes swam with humor.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do that. Lying is against the rules,” she admitted.
I wrinkled my nose, knowing that she was probably right. I shouldn’t trick Carmichael. But just the idea of her going home to her house after what had happened to me today was downright terrifying.
“It’s not just what you think,” I admitted. “That woman had her house broken into last night by the same man that shot me today. I don’t want her alone, and she’s stubborn as they come.”
Her eyes took on an understanding that made me think that she just might do it.
“I can do that,” she said. “But only for one night. You’ll have to figure out the rest on your own after tomorrow.”
I held up my fist and said, “Fist bump.”
She snorted and bumped my fist with her own.
“You’ll need someone to drive you home anyway after the cocktail that I just gave you,” she admitted.
I hadn’t been aware that she’d given me one.
It must’ve been when I’d been dreaming of Carmichael that she’d done it. That, or I was just that fucked-up.
I couldn’t complain about the drugs, either. Even now the feeling of lightness started to spread through me.
The dull throbbing of my shoulder turned into a light, almost able to ignore, tremble.
“I swear it’s all on the up and up,” I lied.
She snorted and fisted her trash, taking her things to the trash can before ripping off her gloves and washing her hands in the sink next to my bed.
Once she was done she tore a few paper towels off and studied me closely.
“I think I could do that.” She paused. “You’re probably going to want the help in the morning anyway. The pain medication will wear off, and you’re going to feel like you’ve been hit by a bus.” I imagined I would. “Now, I’m going to go talk to your doll. You make sure you get ready to go. At least, mostly. You can put these pants on, and I’ll help you with the rest when I get back with the discharge paperwork.”
I pried my eyes open wider and stared at the scrubs that I hadn’t been aware she’d laid at the end of the bed.
I nodded my head and started to swing my hips over the side of the bed, thankful not to have the wires and the IV attached to me any longer.
When had she taken all of that off?
Shedding the hospital gown, I stepped very carefully into the scrub pants and then lifted them up.
I was literally pulling the scrub pants up over my ass with one hand when I heard more than saw her come in.
It was the gasp and the ‘oh, shit’ that had me turning to face her.
“Hey,” I said, feeling weak as a kitten, and kind of sad that my cock was now tucked away behind these awfully thin blue pants. “Can you come tie this for me? I don’t think I can manage it just yet.”
In fact, I knew that I couldn’t.
Though, saying that, I knew that if I just sat down they wouldn’t be threatening to fall down off my ass. I could wait until the nurse came in and get her to do it.
Yet, the idea of having Carmichael that close to me sounded heavenly.
So I would use the card while I had it to play.
She bit her lip, her black curls bouncing as she made her way toward me.
I wanted to reach up and tug that hair tie from her hair, to see her hair flowing freely around her shoulders just the way I liked it.
Instead, I kept my hands exactly where they were, resisting the urge to touch her even though I really wanted to.
I was doing pretty good with the idea of her putting her hands on me, really, I was. Until she dropped down onto her knees in front of me, and every single fucking fantasy I’d ever had about her came to light.
Her mouth twisted and she bit her lip in concentration as she slowly reached for the ties on my pants.
I hiked them up further, which then caused my cock—which might not be super hard because my brain wasn’t working right just yet, but it definitely wasn’t small either—was pulled up tight to the fabric.
Her breath hitched, and I closed my eyes and counted backward from one hundred in my head.
Her fingers went to work on the tie, and she moved in such a way that her knuckles bounced slightly against my left testicle.
I wasn’t sure that she noticed what she touched. I sure the hell did, though.
In between one breath and the next, she was standing.
“Oh, that looks bad,” she said as she pressed lightly against the skin right under my elbow.
Not anywhere close to the bullet hole, but I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Looks as bad as it feels,” I didn’t see the point in lying. “Zero out of five stars. Do not recommend.”
She snorted lightly and reached beside me to grab the shirt.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “I literally don’t think that I can get it on. I’ll walk out without a shirt on.”
She frowned and looked at the shirt, then at me again.
“I don’t think it’ll fit, either,” I told her. “The pants are really tight around my thighs.”
She looked at my pants once again, then at the shirt.
“You have to custom tailor your suits, don’t you?” she asked quietly as she dropped the top back on the bed.
“Yes,” I winced. “Fuckin’ A. I just got that suit, too.”
“The one that you were shot in?” she asked.
I jerked my head in the affirmative, wishing I wouldn’t have almost immediately.
“Yeah,” I groaned. “Just picked it up yesterday. That fucking sucks donkey balls.”
“What does?” Flint asked.
I turned to see him and the nurse back at the door.
She was looking at a chart, and thankfully Karen wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“The fact that now I have to go get fitted for another suit when I despise the hell out of it,” I grumbled as I looked at my feet. “Did they fuck my shoes up, too?”
“Those are here,” I heard Carmichael say. “You want them on?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m not walking out of here on bare feet. Do you know how dirty these floors likely are?”
She shook her head and tossed the shoes onto the floor.
I sat down and reached forward to grab one but immediately regretted it.
I felt a wave of nausea roll over me at the pain that ripped through me at the move.
“Let me do it,” came Carmichael’s soothing voice.
I couldn’t even appreciate her at all.
Not with the way that I was currently fighting not to throw up all over her and the floor.
“Pick your foot up,” she ordered.
I did and she slipped my stupidly expensive shoe on my foot. They were wet. Likely with blood.
I still didn’t care. I could probably get them cleaned. If I couldn’t, I’d wear them anyway.
Who looked at shoes anyway?
“Nobody does,” Carmichael answered. “At least not a man’s shoes. I don’t ever look at them. Now, if this were a woman’s shoe, I’d say the opposite. But they’re not that bad. And I don’t know about the scuffs from the concrete, but you could probably get them cleaned up just fine.”
I looked into her eyes and felt my breath hitch.