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“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at hearing things. Whatever else happened, I must have hit my head on something.”
“Yes, I think so.” I dug my thumbs into the ball of her foot, her gasp showing me how much tension I battled there. “But here comes Andrade. He’ll show you to the bathroom and help you get in the tub. I hope you understand that nobody here will hurt you, but you may have a concussion, and we need to keep an eye on you just so you don’t slip or anything.”
“No, I get it. If you wanted to rape me, you could have done it already. Not a thing I could do to stop you. You are, as you pointed out, much bigger and stronger than me. I’ll just have to trust that this massage comes with no strings attached?”
I moved to the other foot and worked on her toes first. “I hope this is helping.”
“It feels amazing. I just want to purr.” She offered me a tired smile. “Like a big old tired cat.”
“Well, I see Andrade headed this way, so I hope you’re a cat who likes water.”
“I think I do because a bath sounds so good.”
“While you soak, I’ll heat up some soup for you. Sound good?”
“Oh, you don’t have to…” A rumble from her tummy was the only response but also the only one I needed to hear. She clapped her hand over her midsection. “Well that was embarrassing.”
“It shouldn’t be. Who knows if you’ve even eaten today at all?”
“Not me. But thank you, I would love some soup. And a bath. And sleep. I really want sleep.”
I moved her feet off my lap and stood up before picking up the blanket and laying it over the back of the sofa. “All right, up you go.” I took her hands and eased her to her feet. “You okay? Still dizzy? Any nausea?”
“Yes-ish, no, and no. I have a headache and my body really hurts. But I am not dizzy anymore and my stomach seems okay.”
“Good. It could be worse, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Andrade approached and I handed her over to him.
“I can walk fine,” she protested when he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the master bedroom. “Really.”
“Then humor us,” I said. “We don’t want you to fall and hit your head again. Unlike on 1960s situation comedies, a second knock on the noggin is not a good thing.”
“So it won’t restore my memory?” she asked.
“It’s likely to do a lot more damage instead. Let Andrade wait on you. Pretend he’s your manservant. Paid help.”
“Is that what you do?” she shot back at me.
“No,” my mate said. “He offers me naughty rewards in return for services rendered.” Tipping his head to the side, he appeared to consider. “Now that I think about it, the services themselves are generally naughty.”
“Just go, the two of you,” I urged, waving them off as I headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make soup and I think there’s a tin of biscuits as well.”
“The kind that gives you a heart attack when you pop it open?” she asked.
“Well, I guess you do remember some things.”
“Seems I do. Maybe that’s progress?”
“Probably not,” I said. “But they do taste good with butter and jam.”
Andrade was guiding her toward the bedroom when she turned back and said, “Strawberry? It’s my favorite.”
“I’ll check...” Because that tidbit of information she knew. Her favorite jam.
