I took a deep breath, and pushed hard to wipe my mind clear of thoughts and feelings and the painful residue of all those long months fantasizing about getting to spend even a short amount of time with Mia.
Being a sheriff was a lot easier than all this, by a long shot.
In fact, if I had my druthers, I’d rather Mia shoot me than reject me.
nine
. . .
Mia
Armin peeled back the washcloth.My skin had reddened with the wet heat, and, hopefully, my muscles had loosened enough that he could coax my ribs back into place. My breathing was pretty good, all things considered.
“More,” I said, and he quickly replaced the washcloth.
“Not that,” I said. “The whiskey.”
He held me up and bottle-fed me the only painkiller we had to get me through this. The ribs weren’t going to be a big deal. It was the hip that burned awful, that had given out when I’d tried to stand, leaving me limp in his arms. And I knew getting it back into place wasn’t going to be any picnic either.
It was getting to my head, too, the booze, more than it was killing any pain. I was slow and my words were getting sloppy, and I had to watch myself. I never would have had anything to drink at the club, or with any other client.
But being with Armin had lulled me into a false sense of security. I trusted him. Too much, probably.
“Okay,” I said. “Ready.”
“How hard is it raining outside?” He gazed deep into my eyes. He must have been blotto by now, too. Not a drinker. He poured himself a half-shot for every four of my gulps.
We’d come up with a system. He asked me a question that I had to consider, to take my mind off what was about to happen, and then while I was lost in thought,bam, he relocated my slipped joints. So far he’d pulled my shoulder into its socket. Next we were going for the ribs on my right side, and finally, we’d do the hip.
He lay his hand on my hot, swollen skin. “On a scale from one to ten,” he said. “Where one is light drizzle and ten is monsoon.”
I considered it at length, my mind wandering and thick. Last night was a ten. For sure. I hadn’t been outside yet, but based on the volume, it didn’t sound quite as bad. “I’d give it an—”
He pressed his hand firm into my side. The pain flared hard, burning, a red hot firebrand deep inside, the grind of bone on bone, and I cried out before I could stop myself.
Then the pain in my side was gone. Disappeared completely. “Eight,” I gasped.
Armin’s face looked likeI’dbrandedhim. Eyes wide, bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. I bet I could find another couple of gray hairs in that mane since my arrival last night.
I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through to have a look.
This was the whiskey talking.
“Bath,” I said.
“What about your hip?”
“I can’t. I need a rest.”
He exhaled through pursed lips and covered me over with the blanket. Honestly, he needed the break more than I did. I don’t know what his original plans for this day were.
Maybe he’d wanted a naked woman screaming in his bed. Sure. Why not?
But not like this.
The stress and strain were wearing on him. Though his eyes were still kindly and concerned for me, and it could have been the whiskey, planting its own ideas, but I swore I could remember him vividly now, from the fire.
“Hey,” I said. “You know the fire at the club?”
