“Posh name.”
“Not really. We’re old farmer stock. Something like that. Dad was into researching our ancestry for a while.”
“Riley,” he replied, sucking in another deep breath as I covered his heel in gel. “Not posh. Military family, army dad, got sent to boarding school at eight and went to uni, and here I am. Head teacher at a really nice school.”
“Interesting.” I smiled. He did too, if just for a second. “There. Have a break, maybe a nap. Let the painkillers kick in.”
“I should go,” he suggested, trying to raise his foot off the pillow.
“Wearing what shoes?” I looked around. Like I hadn’t already clocked his lack of them.
“Surely I can call the…whatever. Buggy service.”
“Yeah, and they will carry you to your room. For heaven’s sake, Riley. Be sensible. Chill out for a bit.”
“Still worried you’ve just drugged me.” He looked it too, sat there, the painkillers still in his hand.
This was me. Slightly underprepared for what my mother’s ideas would throw at me. Not that I thought she had plonked Mr Riley here on my patio, and blowtorched his foot, but yeah. I got up, picked up a bottle of water from the bedside table, opened it up and held it out to him.
“I’m going to go sit outside and read my book. Have a nap, Riley. Let this settle. Then I’ll help you back to your room, and we can both relax. That sound fair?”
“If I’m still alive…” he grumped.
I smiled. Because he was… Fuck. He was truly beautiful and gorgeous and way out of my league. That chest on him? Small dark nipples on smooth skin. Firm. A smatter of dark hair down his legs. Beautiful. Those ringlets were just mesmerising, and he had pouty lips and his nose was maybe a little big and fuck. Fuck me, sideways and all that. He was also injured and helpless and naked on my bed. The towel barely covered his assets. I had no right to even think of his assets. I had no right to stare at his perfectly messy hair, the tips still wet from that shower. Nor had I any right to take in his nipples, his chest, nor that little tummy on him. I wanted to stroke it. With my tongue.
I hope he didn’t notice the breath I sucked in as I tried to compose myself.
The bag from the bed went on the floor, and I took the corner of the duvet and flipped it on top of him.
“Sleep,” I demanded.
Then I grabbed my book and walked outside.
Chapter 4
Fox
Had my colleague Emma been here? She would have sighed in unison with all my friends, the way they usually did. Laughed at my predicament and suggested ways how I could escape out the front door without the man on the patio realising I’d gone.
Which wouldn’t work because every time I moved, I winced and made stupid sounds. I’d had a sunburn before. It wasn’t recommended, and apart from the searing pain, I knew full well it would be followed by more discomfort, then sail into the itch of the devil before I would shed my skin and look like some kind offantasy reptile…
Yes, they would have laughed at me too. Called me names and mocked me. Silly boy.
I was lucky. Bloody lucky.
Also? Freaking unlucky. In love, in my attempts at making myself feel better and even worse so? In my stupidity.
He’d been right, though. In my state of disarray? The shower, the cool sheets against my bare skin and his painkillers had done exactly what he’d promised. A nap had helped, my head was a little less cloudy, my foot throbbing gently instead of me wanting to chop it off with the hotel pen next to me, and the way the curtains were drawn? Protective of my eyes, but I could see the top of his shoulder, the way he was sitting in the shade out there.
I needed the loo again, and I was gasping for a cup of tea. Still, I managed to sit myself up, my bladder protesting as I moved. And stood up.
Fuck. Painful.
Hobble, hobble, hobble. I probably looked like a pensioner, trying to steady myself against the walls, and the relief of finally reaching the toilet? I had to sit down so I could take my weight off my foot.
I was fucked. So, so fucked.
“You okay?”
