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I get the impression it might be a bit more than that when she sets aside a bloody towel and it’s bloodier than I expected. What steals my attention more is the way her hand trembles as she grabs the sanitized tweezers and returns to work.
“Are you okay back there?” I ask.
“Yeah. I just… a couple of these shards went pretty deep. I’m worried they need real medical attention.”
“Nah, you’re doing great. I trust you,” I tell her.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Yeah, but you strike me as someone who’s pretty trustworthy.”
She falls silent after that. She also gets back to tending my wounds.
It takes a while since she’s moving so carefully. I’m sore as hell by the time she’s finished, but she finally drops the last shard into a little bowl she set up bedside like a surgeon. “I think that’s all of it. I’m going to gently push on your skin where there was glass to make sure I got it all. Let me know if you feel anything I might have missed.”
When she finishes pushing on me, I flex my shoulders, then my back a bit to see if I feel anything. “Nah, I think we’re good.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “There are two spots that have been sliced open pretty good. I think I should put that skin glue stuff on them, but do you want to look first and see if you agree?”
I shake my head. “Go ahead and seal it up.”
Rather than reach for the tube, she hesitates. “It’s really important to make sure it’s clean before I do that. I’ve cleaned the area to the best of my ability, but there’s dried blood on your back and… I think it really needs to be bathed in soap and water before I glue it together. I would hate for it to get infected.”
I crack a smile at how serious she is. “And what does my nurse recommend?”
Her cheeks flush, but she meets my gaze to prescribe, “A shower.”
Chapter Eight
Brynn
Once he’s in the bathroom, I strip the towels off his bed. Blood got on a few of them, so I’m careful bundling them up and dropping the pile on the hardwood floor.
I feel like I should wash them, but I don’t want to snoop around and I’m not sure if he has a washing machine in his apartment. I’m sure he does. With an apartment this size, it would certainly fit, and who wants to go to the laundromat?
Without him around to distract me, I’m alone for the first time since everything went down. I pace around his bedroom, trying not to think about it.
That proves impossible, so when I hear the shower turn on, I change my mind about snooping. The laundry needs to be done, so I’ll just take a peek and see if I can find his laundry room.
I find a gorgeous laundry room in a service nook just past the kitchen. This apartment is seriously high end, and I feel like the help as I lug the pile of dirty towels through an area clearly meant for servants.
The laundry room has a built-in shelf for linens, and I see more towels neatly folded and put away on the middle shelf. The washer and dryer are installed beneath a marble countertop, with a cabinet between them and a sink above it. There’s a leafy green houseplant on the counter, and I don’t really see this guy caring for plants in his free time.
Does he have a maid or a devoted girlfriend?
He certainly hasn’t given the “somebody’s boyfriend” vibe, but he could just be a bad one. As gorgeous as he is and given the financial status this apartment implies, I’m gonna go ahead and say he’s sought after.
I feel more at home in his laundry room than the rest of the apartment, so I make use of the stain remover, then toss the towels in the washing machine.
Once I get the wash started, I turn around and look at the clothes hung up on the rod in the built-in compartment. I told myself I wouldn’t snoop, so I don’t open the built-in cabinets, but I admire how nice they are. His laundry room is nicer than any place I’ve ever lived.
The whole place is immaculately kept. Further evidence of a maid because if his girlfriend is doing all this, I would expect her to live here, too, and I haven’t seen any evidence of a woman in my non-snooping session.
My heart drops guiltily into my stomach when I walk into his bedroom and see him standing there with just a white towel wrapped around his hips. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, his dark hair still dripping wet as he pushes it out of his face.
It feels too intimate to see him like this.
He seems unbothered by it, though. He glances at me on his way to his walk-in closet as if girls watch him walk around his bedroom nearly naked all the time.
