She stepped closer to the SUV. “Then why are you—” She sucked in a breath. “What happened? You’re hurt.”
He was leaning back against the headrest and shifted to meet her gaze fully. “I’m fine. Just not ready to go home.”
“The bandage on your shoulder doesn’t look fine,” she insisted, reaching for the door. “Oh, my God, Cole. Were you shot?”
He didn’t argue when she reached around him to unfasten the seat belt. He wore a white T-shirt with one sleeve bunched above the bandage that covered the upper part of his arm. “You said my name again.” One side of his mouth curved. “It sounds good coming from your lips.”
“You’re delirious. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine. Bullet grazed me.”
“Who shot you?” she demanded, tugging him from the Jeep.
“Bad guy,” he muttered.
“There’s a cut on your forehead.”
“It’s only a scratch. I chased him through the woods.”
She took his hand and led him up the flagstone walkway toward the house. Paige was a deep sleeper, so Sienna didn’t think the inn owner would wake up, but she climbed the stairs to her bedroom quietly, Cole following behind her.
She pushed him toward the bed. “Sit down,” she ordered. “I’m going to get something to clean out that cut.”
“Scratch,” he insisted.
“Tomato, to-mah-to,” she shot back and hurried toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. She found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, cotton balls and a small box of bandages, returning to the bedroom to find Cole sprawled across the bed.
He glanced at her as she moved toward him. “Nice wallpaper,” he said, circling a finger in the air.
A rose-hued paper with a pattern of red and pink roses covered the walls. The queen-size bed had a wrought-iron frame in a delicate design with filigree decorating the end of each post. There was a tall chest of drawers against one wall, and a shorter, longer dresser on the opposite wall. Both were covered with lace doilies and vases of dried flowers.
It was like a throwback to an inn of a hundred years ago, and Sienna had immediately appreciated all the homey touches. It was a feminine space, but even on his back, Cole looked ridiculously masculine in it.
“Tell me what happened.” She sat on the edge of the bed, placing the supplies on the nightstand.
“Drug bust,” he said tightly. “More guys than we anticipated.”
“A drug bust in Crimson?” She soaked a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide. “That seems hard to believe.”
“I only wish our mountain Mayberry, as you call it, was safe from the issues people associate with big cities. But drugs are an insidious problem. Maybe not to the level other places find, but we deal with our share of bad here, Sienna.”
“Was it a success?”
He nodded, then hissed out a breath when she dabbed the cotton ball against his broken skin. “Did you ever consider a career as a nurse?”
She smiled sweetly and pressed harder against the cut. “I should take you to the hospital.”
He gave a small laugh. “Spent some time there earlier and not going back. One of my deputies shot a guy who was fleeing the scene. He’ll live, but his leg needed some attention.” He moved his arm, then groaned. “The doc wrapped up my shoulder so I know it’s fine.”
“Was anyone...?”
“Killed? No, thankfully. But we arrested four of them and shut down the local operation. It was a good night.”
She took a bandage strip from the box and unpeeled the wrapper. “So why are you here?”
“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “Not that I told Jase about you being in town, but that he and Declan knowing seems to be messing with your head.”
“My head is fine,” she whispered, covering his cut with the bandage.
