“Body.”
“You don’t need any help there.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“You know full well you’re attractive. No one has that level of muscle tone without knowing their body is bangin’.”
I cleared my throat, but kept quiet.
Working out kept me from losing my mind. Punishing myself on the rowing machine and kettle bells kept me grounded when the dark thoughts were too much.
“I think your brain is more in need of help. You’re grumpy and full of pain—and I’m not talking about your ankle.”
I clenched my jaw. Did she actually see it? Sometimes it felt like a black cloud was following me.
“Don’t get your shorts in a twist. You don’t have to share, but I can tell.”
“It’s none of your business,” I gritted out.
“That’s fair. But I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not. So just accept it.” She reached for the first aid kit on the coffee table. “Now, let’s get you wrapped up.”
“It’s fine.”
“It will be.” With gentle fingers, she poked at me and I managed only a hiss. “Since you didn’t scream or faint on the way up to the house, I imagine it’s not broken. You should probably get it x-rayed if it’s not better in a few days.”
I said nothing, just fisted my hands tighter at my sides.
“Okay, tough guy.” She efficiently wrapped it up so fast, I knew she wasn’t lying about her brother. And the fact that it immediately felt much better with the compression annoyed me further.
“Let’s get your foot up on the couch so we can elevate it.” She started fussing with pillows and propped me up, then tucked me in for fuck’s sake. Her honey and snow scent made me just as hungry as the stupid food on the stove. “There we go, Porkie.” She patted my head. “Sit tight and I’ll make you a bowl of soup.”
“Stop calling me Porkie.”
“Maybe I will when you stop acting like your brethren.” She grinned at me and a dimple dented her right cheek.
I tried to ignore her, but my gaze kept straying over to her as she moved around the kitchen like it was her own. My stomach roared at the fragrant steam that exploded out of my Dutch oven as she lifted the cover. Even from across the room the delicious herbs rolled out like a siren’s song. Instead of a normal bowl, she walked over with a gravy boat shaped like a turkey. How the hell had she found that?
“Sorry, I couldn’t find your bowls. I did find a surprising array of animal dishware in a box, though.”
I hadn’t realized I’d packed it with the cross-country dishes. Another reminder of Christopher. The random and ridiculous kitchen items had been his favorite gag gift every Christmas. I stared at the warped waddle pointing at me.
“Have to admit, the kitchy items don’t seem you at all.”
“They were gifts. You can have them.”
She arched her brow. “Why?”At my scowl, she sighed. “Have anything to do with the breakup box of scraps I found in the hall?”
Shit. She found that? I probably looked like a damn psycho. “Something like that.”
“Can you sit up?”
“I’m not a child.”
I noticed a little gold hoop at the arch of her right brow as she bent toward me.“So he says like a bratty two-year-old.”
I struggled up and accepted the turkey gravy bowl with a plaid towel wrapped around it so it wouldn’t burn me.
She tucked a pillow behind me. “I pretty much used the whole rotisserie chicken you had in there. Sorry about that.”
