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Chapter Six
Ian knew he was wading into deep waters. One kiss and his IQ had dropped at least forty points. Fortunately, the effect was temporary. As long as he kept his distance, he probably wouldn’t do something stupid.
There were any number of valid reasons not to get involved with Bella Craig. First of all, she was Finley’s sister. Brothers tended to take those kinds of relationships very seriously. For Ian to even think about being intimate with the lovely Bella would be enough to give his friend a coronary.
Secondly, Ian sucked at relationships. He loved sex. And he’d had no complaints from the few women he’d dabbled with since earning his final degree and striking out on his own. When it came to daily interaction, though, that’s where things fell apart.
Ian tended to have laser focus when he was working. More than one woman had told him she didn’t appreciate being ignored for long stretches of time. Bella would be harder to ignore than most, but it could happen. Then her feelings would be hurt. She would call him a jerk and a loser, and it would be over.
Oddly enough, he enjoyed sparring with her almost as much as he might revel in sharing her bed. Almost, but not quite. Still, the prospect of terminating this budding friendship sobered him. Maybe given the circumstances, he should enjoy her company and keep a lid on his baser instincts.
Bella was vulnerable. Strong and capable, but vulnerable. Men had undervalued her time and again, leaving her wary and combative. He didn’t want to be responsible for adding another layer to her armor.
She didn’t speak during the drive back to town, and neither did he. When they made it back to Finley’s house, Ian could hear Cinnamon barking a welcome inside. Anytime Bella planned to be gone for the day, she hired a teenager from the village to walk and feed the dog.
Ian shut off the engine and hopped out, prepared for battle. He opened her door. “You’ll have to let me carry you. If you’re on your feet when we go inside, that crazy dog will knock you down.”
“Okay.” In the illumination from the small bulb of the porch light, he could see that Bella suffered. Her face was pale as milk. She clenched her jaw when he leaned in to scoop her up.
He had expected a fight. The fact that she curled her arm around his neck without protest and rested her head against his chest worried him. “Maybe we should go straight to the hospital,” he muttered, torn between wanting to get her comfortable quickly and the possibility the ankle might be broken.
At last Bella put her foot down, metaphorically speaking. “No hospital,” she said. “Not for a sprain. If I can’t put weight on it in forty-eight hours, then I’ll go.”
“Do you have any idea if Finley owns a pair of crutches?”
“Actually, he does. From a motorcycle wreck he had a few years ago. I saw them in the hall closet on the landing.”
“Good. Rest and more rest tonight, but knowing you, you’ll need them tomorrow.”
“I’m not stupid,” she said, her voice subdued. “I’ll behave.”
The entirely inappropriate mental image of making Bella behave gave him a very inconvenient boner. Enough that he stumbled on the top step. “Sorry,” he muttered. He fished out the key his hostess had provided and unlocked the front door. Cinnamon bounded against his legs, almost sending both humans crashing to the floor. “Easy, girl,” he said. “We’re glad to see you, too. But the lady of the house is hurt. You’ll have to help me make sure she’s okay.” He could swear the dog understood every word.
The trek up the stairs past his room and on up to the next floor was slow but uneventful. Bella made a quick visit to the en suite with his assistance as far as the door, and then he tucked her into bed. While in the bathroom, she had changed into a lemon yellow T-shirt and cotton drawstring bottoms in navy with tiny yellow palm trees all over them.
He made her lie back so he could examine her injury. With better lighting, her ankle looked far worse. Puffy and bruised, it was a mess. “I’m wondering if I should wrap it,” he mused aloud.
“Oh no,” she pleaded. “I don’t even know if I can bear to have the sheet touch it.”
“So putting on those pajama pants must have hurt like hell. Why didn’t you let me help?”
Her eyes widened. “Because you would have seen my underwear.”
He grinned. “Leopard print bikinis? Satiny pink thong? Black lace see-through?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her face was red from her throat to her hairline. He loved the way she got all hot and bothered when he teased her. Just like the Banty hens his grand-da used to raise.
He decided to take pity on her. “Shall I forage in the medicine cabinet and see what I can find?”
She nodded carefully, her blue eyes dull with fatigue and discomfort. “I saw a prescription bottle in there, but I didn’t pay attention.”
Fortunately, the tablets were a strong pain reliever left over from Finley’s crash. He examined the bottle with a frown. “This says to take two every four to six hours, but you’re a lot smaller than your brother. What if we try half of one? If that’s enough for you to rest comfortably, it would be better to err on the side of caution.”
“Makes sense. But I’ll need a small snack if you don’t mind. Crackers maybe. I don’t want to upset my stomach. And Ian…” She raised up on one elbow, her expression agitated.
“What?” He rested his forearm against the doorway to the hall, keeping his distance. That was the plan.
“You’re not responsible for me. I really appreciate your help, but after I take this pill, you’re off the clock. Go to sleep or to work or whatever, but don’t think you have to check up on me. I’ll be fine.”
