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She sniffled. “I thought the car stunk.”
“What?” he asked.
“I thought it was the car that stunk, but it’s me, isn’t it? I’m a horrible, stinky mess.”
Okay,Gray had no idea what to do with this female.
She was crying.
Because she was a stinky mess.
She wasn’t . . . all right, she really was. At some stage, she’d either stepped or sat in some garbage, or the stench of those assholes that had grabbed her had rubbed off on her. There was a definite smell coming from her.
She sobbed.
“Three men attack her and she handles it like a pro. But she realizes she smells and she falls apart,” he muttered. He didn’t get it. Sure, she’d been a bit shaky after the attack, but during it she’d kept her head. She’d even tried to help him.
Not that he’d needed her help, and she would have been far safer staying out of it. Using her shoes as weapons . . .
Okay, that was surprisingly resourceful. But he still didn’t approve.
Christ. What did he say to her to get her to stop crying? He should know what to do. He’d given aftercare before. But that was different. It wasn’t like he had to say much, just ask how they were doing and if they needed anything.
All right, that could work here.
“Are you all right?”
“N-nooo,” she sobbed.
Shit. Good job, asshole. Now, she’s crying even more.
“Um, well, what would you like? Water? Do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“Nooo.”
Fuck.
He was just going to have to do it. Sure, he might be out of practice, but when a sub asked for one during aftercare, he stepped up and did it. Of course, they didn’t ask for one very often . . . if they wanted one, they usually went to someone else.
Just do it.
“Would you like a hug?”
She sniffled, running her fingers under her eyes and smearing the mascara even further.
Do not tell her that.
There are times when honesty is not appreciated.
He was slowly starting to learn that at the ripe old age of thirty-five.
“I stink!”
“Well, uh . . . yeah, you’re a bit smelly.”
Another sob.
Fuck. Wrong thing to say.
