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“Side, but I feel sick to my stomach.”
“Okay, lean forward a little bit until I come back down.” He looked around and reached for the little trash can by the front door. “If you get sick, use this.”
And just like that, he raced up the steps. I closed my eyes and tried to take in a few deep breaths, but even that made my tailbone hurt.
“Please, please don’t have cracked or broken anything. Please . . . ,” I mumbled.
After about two minutes, Ty was coming back down the steps with a pillow and ibuprofen. He turned and went into the kitchen. I heard the ice machine and a few drawers open and close.
“Dish towels?” he called out. Before I could answer, he added, “Never mind, you have a gel ice pack. This is perfect!”
I couldn’t help but smile. This was a side of Ty Shaw I had never seen. He probably felt guilty since it was his fault I fell. Of course, had he not been there to catch me the first time, I might have broken an arm or even a leg.
Then he was in front of me again, and my heartbeat picked up ever so slightly simply because I could smell his cologne. Or his soap, or whatever that delicious manly scent was that he had. I was going to guess it was soap. Ty didn’t seem like the kind of guy to put on cologne. It was a mix of leather and a clean, fresh scent, as if he bathed with Irish Spring. Or maybe that was just Ty’s own unique smell. Regardless, I loved it . . . a lot.
And why is my mind fixating on how Ty smells when I’m in so much pain? Good Lord, if I don’t have sex soon, I’m going to combust.
“How about we get you to lie on your back.”
I nodded, not wanting to talk because I could feel the tears simmering just under the surface, and I was feeling overwhelmed with pain and Ty’s stupid smell.
He handed me the ibuprofen and a glass of water and then placed the gel pad on the sofa. The pillow he had brought down was on the coffee table.
“Let’s stand you up really quickly, and then I’ll help you lie down.”
I shook my head.
“Kaylee, I need to get the ice pack under you.”
My chin trembled, and I felt a warm tear slip down my cheek.
Ty dropped down and sat on the coffee table, his face white as a ghost. He removed his cowboy hat and set it to the side. When he cupped my face in his hands, I felt an instant rush of butterflies in my stomach, but then the pain in my lower back took care of that feeling and replaced it with nothing but throbbing.
“Fuck, does it hurt that bad?”
The only thing I could do was nod.
“Okay. Okay. Do you think you can lean back, and I’ll do my best to get the pad under you?”
“I’ll try,” I said, my voice sounding so weak, I wanted to punch myself, but, considering I was already in pain, I didn’t want to deal with any more.
Ty helped me to lean back as he gently tucked the gel pad under me.
“Let me put the pillow under your knees.”
Once he’d finally gotten me settled, Ty hit his watch. “I’ll set a timer for twenty minutes.”
“How . . . do you . . . know . . . all this?” I asked.
He smiled, and my heart felt like it skipped a beat. For one brief moment, I didn’t feel pain. I only saw that smile. That dimple. Those eyes that sparkled when he allowed himself to just be . . . Ty. Happy, not on guard, and willing to let me see him without the walls. I’d seen that side of him before. When we found out Lincoln was pregnant with Brock’s baby. When it was just the two of us, a secret only we knew. It had been fun, seeing him so carefree. Seeing that sparkle in his eyes. It was rare, so anytime I could see it felt like a gift.
“I’ve cracked my tailbone a few times and bruised it more times than I can remember. I’m pretty sure you just bruised yours, but it hurts like a son of a bitch no matter which one happens.”
“Bull riding?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Ty replied with a nod. “And once getting bucked off a stubborn mare.”
“What is it with you and women?”
He winked, and I was pretty sure I sighed, but that was okay in this instance because he would simply think it was from the pain.
“They either love me or hate me. It’s a curse I have to live with, I guess.”
I stared up at him as he looked down at me, that smile still on his face. His brown hair looked like he had run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. It was messy, but in a clean-cut sort of way. Ty kept his hair short, but a little longer on the top. Countless nights, I’d come to visions of my hands running through his hair as he brought me to orgasm. God, he was sexy as hell.
