Pulling my arm from his grasp, I meet his eyes. “Sorry, I’m super ticklish when I hurt myself. Um…how’s your foot?” He lets out a loud hiss of breath and we both look down at his toes curling and uncurling.
The look he gives me is half smile half gritted teeth. “Well, it hurts like a bitch, but nothing seems broken. I’ll live. What about you, hit your funny bone?” He nods to my elbow which I’ve gone back to rubbing.
“Yeah, sorry. But for now, let’s get you cleaned and bandaged up. Do you need something for your toes or are they good?”
This at least earns me a small smile. “Nah, no way to bandage up blunt force trauma on the foot, I’ll live.”
This bathroom doesn’t have a medicine cabinet, just the cupboard under the sink. Squatting down to look, I almost fall over backwards, my hand reaching out to grab the wall behind me before I land on the tile floor. I hear another sharp gasp at the same moment it dawns on me that I have a handful of denim.
Dreading what I might see, I twist around on the balls of my feet and let my eyes wander over to Garret. He’s staring intently down at me, and specifically at my hand, which has a death grip on the knee of his jeans, holding myself up with them—pulling them down enough that a trail of sunny blond hair is now clearly visible between the top of his jeans and the bottom of his shirt. It’s right at eye level
My gaze flicks back up to meet Garrets and he bites his bottom lip, heat filling his eyes. I need to get out of this situation. Trying to pull myself up, I only manage to unbalance further and fall face first towards his leg.
The universe has a sense of humor, I just don’t find it very funny right now.
Giving in and letting myself hit the floor has to be better than face-planting against his groin. Unfortunately, I forgot about my knees being banged up a few days ago at the ceremony, so when they hit the tile, I let out a tiny little squeal of pain.
These pajamas provide no cushioning between my already abused flesh and the stone beneath me. Scrambling back to my butt to save my knees, I’m scooped off the floor completely. This is the second time in less than a week that I find myself with bleeding knees, being held against a wide warm chest. But this one’s vibrating.
Chapter 38
Idon’t even try to stop the purr that rumbles from my chest as I finally get to hold Kelly close. Picking her up when she cried out was completely involuntary. We’re both lucky I manage not to brain myself on the counter or the towel bar while standing up. It would completely ruin any attempts at heroics.
She’s not struggling against me, but I also don’t want to risk making her uncomfortable. I let myself enjoy holding her for a moment longer before placing her gently on the countertop beside the sink. There isn’t a lot of room to maneuver, and there’s more than a little fumbling trying to find a place to sit her down so she can’t fall off the side. Just having her trying to help makes me realize that this girl is insanely accident prone, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I caught her in the kitchen earlier before she could fall and do herself some real harm.
Bracing my back against the wall, I kneel down and roll up the legs of her fluffy blue snowflake pants. The fleecy fabric is incredibly soft, and I briefly wonder if she likes the snow, or if the pattern was just convenient. My mind isn’t distracted for long, as a small patch of purple blooms on the fabric at the bendof her knee. When the skin there finally comes into view, it’s easy to see where it was recently damaged. It doesn’t look deep, but there is definitely blood trickling down her calf now. Shit.
Pulling open the cabinet door beside her legs I see, yes, one box of adhesive strips, no peroxide or cotton balls. When I turn the box over several tiny round bandages fall out. Why did he leave the whole box under here with just these? The box says it’s assorted but there’s nothing else here. My head thumps against the cabinet in defeat, but I can’t linger. Kelly needs help getting cleaned up and patched, and I know I can do that.
Trying to pull her pants legs over the injury proves another problem, as she hisses in pain despite how gently I attempt to lower the material back over her. Finally she pushes me backwards, holding onto my arm so she can stand, and shimmy out of her pants. She holds the cloth away from her knees while she pushes each one down to avoid the tender skin. I’m not happy she’s hurt, but at least the tears in her eyes are keeping my erection at bay when she stands up wearing just a tank top and panties.
Her tiny little growl of frustration is a bit of a surprise as she kicks her pants to the side and starts limping out the door, but that gives me an excuse to pick her up again to carry her upstairs. I head towards their bedroom on the second floor, and I believe that they have another functioning water closet there. I’ve barely settled her in my arms, my purr starting automatically again, when Sam comes down the stairs. He’s followed by the surly looking pair of Teddy and Steve, and Jake, the big red dog.
Teddy growls—actually growls—at me when he sees me carrying Kelly with no pants on. Sam watches both of us as Teddy stomps over and snarls in my face, “What the fuck did you do? Why is she bleeding? And where the fuck are her pants?” He’s jabbing me in the chest with his index finger, reachingacross Kelly to poke me repeatedly, and I’m mildly amused when Kelly smacks at his hand as it passes in front of her.
“Come on guys, my legs hurt, and I just wanna get patched up…and I still need to fix Garret’s hands where they got scraped. You know I hurt myself this weekend. Well, I fell over in the bathroom and made it worse. Then my pants got stuck on ’em. So, I took the stupid thing off to keep from hurtin’ myself anymore, or staining ’em.” She lifts herself up and looks over Teddy’s shoulder. “Sam, where do you keep your first aid kit? There aren’t any Band-aids that’ll work in there.” She points back towards the bathroom we just exited.
Sam’s looks between us for a moment before he shakes his head and sighs. “The main one is out in the shop, but I don’t need anybody else gettin’ hurt trying to go get it in this weather. Come on, I have a few things upstairs that should work.” He turns around and marches back upstairs just as the kettle in the kitchen starts to whistle, causing Jake to let out a loud baying howl and rub his face against my leg. I think he wants to lick Kelly, but the way he keeps sniffing the air around her, maybe he can tell that she’s hurt.
Teddy lets out a long string of mumbled curse words before stomping towards the kitchen, presumably to turn off the stove while I follow Sam upstairs.
Sam
First I get to come home to my omega arguing with another alpha in my bedroom, now my beta is dripping blood up the stairs. Life certainly has gotten more interesting since last week.
What’s that old curse, “May you live in interesting times?” Sounds about right.
Garret follows me into our bedroom, skirting around the big rug I have by the bed. He may be an asshole, but he seems to be a considerate asshole.
Jake follows us upstairs, whining and circling Garret and Kelly, my dog seems to be as obsessed with her as the rest of us, except Steve. I’m pretty sure that if we left the door open at night, Jake would squeeze us all out of the bed except for Kelly, and then lay on her. But waking up with a face full of dog breath once was enough for me. He has a big squishy bed in the living room, another one at the end of the upstairs hall, one behind the dining table, and a cedar stuffed dog-house in the shop. Just in case he wants to hang out while I work. But for some reason, the last three nights, ever since Kelly started staying here, he falls asleep outside my door, like a big hairy tripping hazard.
The linen closet off the bathroom has way too much space, more than what I need for towels and fresh sheets. So, I keep backup first aid supplies in here: tweezers, adhesive strips, antibiotic cream, insect bite spray, you name it, and it’s probably stuffed in a box in here, if I can find it.
Garret sits her down on the countertop between the sinks. She jerks up and lets out a tiny scream before relaxing back, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, cold on my butt.” Garret grumbles butlooks relieved that he didn’t accidentally hurt her. Meanwhile, I pull out the crate that I think I put Band-aids in. They’re not something I need regularly. If I get cut badly enough to need a band-aid and I’m out in the shop, I usually use superglue or duct-tape. Anything worse than that needs to go to the hospital.
Looking over at the medical student in my bathroom, he’d probably be horrified by that admission. Unfortunately, working with wood means I end up with a lot of splinters and cuts, even with the gloves on. When you’ve got a rush order to get out, you fix what you need to as fast as you can to get back to it. Thankfully, I’ve gotten pretty established, so there’s less people I need to try to impress to earn repeat business. Most of my regulars know the quality I put out, it’s why they’re regulars.
The box of assorted bandages is at the bottom of the crate I'm looking through, and I pull it free with a triumphant smile and an, “A-hah!”
