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Fifteen
“Tellme where you are right now and what your name is?”
“Oh no.” Emilia swung her good arm over her eyes and groaned at Dr. Richards beside her. “Not you too.”
She lay on her teal couch, a pillow tucked behind her head, a fluffy white bathrobe on. The balding doctor bobbed down on her left and squished his brows together. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”
“Just answer the question.” Blaine stood, arms crossed before the fireplace—a fireplace she hadn’t used yet because she didn’t know how to light a fire. But of course, he did know how to light a fire. Now flames filled the room with a subtle orange and flickering glow.
“Fine. I’m Emilia Bonacci. I’m in my house in Harlow. And no, Blaine is not a penguin.”
The doctor spun around to Blaine, no doubt giving him a look that said, Is she usually this odd? Blaine rolled his eyes, a shadow of a smirk curling his lips. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. The fall must have done more damage than I thought.”
If she didn’t have a hugely painful shoulder, she would have ripped the pillow from under her head and tossed it at him. All she could do was flare her eyelids and give him a mouthed scalding for throwing her under the proverbial bus.
The doctor chuckled, seeming to catch onto the inside joke, while using his hands to gesture for her to sit up. She did so with a great deal of awkward shuffling before he held onto her elbow and set about checking her arm’s range of movement. Occasionally, she’d hiss from the pain, the lines between Blaine’s brow growing deeper each time.
The doctor looked up at her. “Wriggle your fingers for me?”
She did as she was asked, no pain generated from that particular movement.
He tapped on her good shoulder, gesturing for her to lay down. “So, it appears you had a fainting spell, likely a form of cold shock from exposure to the elements minus the appropriate clothing. Perhaps you panicked a little too, which caused some hyperventilating and then passing out. There’s no sign of concussion but, Miss Bonacci, you do understand this isn’t California, yes? It might be early spring here, but the weather in these parts can change quickly. You’re lucky Blaine found you when he did.”
Her cheeks burned, and she jolted as a piece of coal exploded in the fire, the flames casting a sunset outline around him. His gaze landed on her, but she turned away, unable to stomach whatever he thought about her impulsive actions during the storm.
She gave her attention to the doctor instead, his kindly brown eyes a million times easier to deal with. “And the shoulder?”
“Well, you were lucky there too.” He pushed to standing. “I don’t suspect any dislocation or a break, just a bad sprain. I’m going to leave enough strong pain relievers to last you the next twenty-four hours, but you might need some over-the-counter stuff for a few days yet. All things considered, my recommendation is you go easy for a bit and see how you do day by day. On the small chance that you do have a concussion, I also don’t want you to be alone tonight. If Mr. Callaghan here isn’t staying, you should call someone else to come down.”
A tight laugh burst past her lips, and she looked from the doctor, to Blaine, and then back to the doctor. “But it’s not necessary, right?”
“What she means to say is”—even though Blaine spoke to the doctor, his stare fused with hers—“thank you for coming over in a storm, and she’ll be sure to follow your advice to a tee.”
His brow raised in a dare for her to challenge him. Challenge accepted.
She scowled at him again but held back on her urge to hiss like an angry cat. Traitor.
The doctor chuckled again and took his first steps toward the door. “If either of you require anymore advice tonight, just call. Otherwise, Miss Bonacci, I’ve left my card on your mantle in case you need further care in the next few days.”
She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, allowing the two men to exit the room and leave her alone with her thoughts. Soon, soft murmurs wafted from the hallway; no doubt she had a starring role in the conversation.
If only she knew more people beyond Aggie or Ally, neither of which lived on her side of this sprawling town, making it a huge ask for either to come over so late at night and in bad weather. Then again, anyone had to be better than Blaine…
The only reason they’d survived so long tonight was that she’d hidden in the living room, while Blaine kept ducking out to the kitchen to check on the pot of soup he’d insisted on making. Why was it that everyone jumped to making soup whenever someone was in any way unwell? She didn’t have a cold; she’d fainted and fallen off a ladder. Heck, did soup even help a cold?
Oh, I should probably just shut it. I’m being an ungrateful brat!
Yes, that she was, but being ungrateful distracted from the all-powerful awkwardness of having the love of her life in her house—watching her like a hawk—staying the night… Whatever happened to enjoying her privacy and a day off?
She eyed the fire, its warm heat radiating across the space and adding to the hot sensation behind her eyes. She hated being reliant on anyone else, being so vulnerable, and to a man of all people. As if she hadn’t spent her entire life thus far being all those things. She’d worked too hard the past weeks to take herself away from all of that.
“Are you feeling any better?” Blaine broke her mental ramblings. He leaned against the doorway, watching her. Again.
“I’m okay.” Her husky tone made that statement sound like a lie, probably because it was.
He strolled over and nudged her legs, making room for himself on the couch beside her. Meanwhile, his skin radiated the scent of leather, wood, and subtle musk. A uniquely him smell.
Her throat clogged, his unbridled masculinity overwhelming and hard to escape. “Ummm. Thanks for helping me today.”
