She was adorable. His cock stirred, reminding him how long it had been since he’d had a woman. He was becoming a monk.
But he shouldn’t be thinking of her in a sexual way. For one, she was a stranger. Two, she was injured. Three, she was scared of him.
Not a good combination.
“Did you fall out of bed?”
She groaned and removed one hand. “Head hurts. So much. Going to be sick.”
He scooped her up. He didn’t have time to ask permission to touch her, her health came before anything else. He got her to the toilet just in time as she started vomiting. Thank God Clint had indoor plumbing installed in the cabin a few years back.
He held her against him, one hand holding back those curls, the other wrapped gently around her hips as she heaved and shuddered. Finally, she stopped throwing up, slumping against him as though she just didn’t have the energy to hold herself up. And he was certain she didn’t. He gently sat her on the floor, so she was leaning against the wall. Then he flushed the toilet.
He grabbed a clean face cloth from the small storage cupboard under the sink and wet it before crouching before her, holding it out. But she either didn’t see it or didn’t have the energy to grab it so he gently grasped hold of her chin, carefully raising her face up to wash it.
He was shocked to find tears running down her cheeks.
“Baby girl, are you hurting? As soon as I get you back into bed, I’ll get you some pain killers. Are you allergic to anything?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. That was so gross. And you had to hold me through it and see that. I’m so sorry. I’m such a bother.”
That was why she was upset? Because he’d seen her vomiting? Because he’d taken care of her? Hell, looking after her was a privilege not a chore as far as he was concerned.
“Ellie. Ellie, look at me.” He waited until those blue eyes stared up at him. They were cloudy with pain and tears continued to drip down her cheeks. He reached back and grabbed some toilet paper then bundled it up and wiped her nose.
She started to sob. “Oh God, and now you’re having to wipe my nose. What next? My bottom?”
“Hey. Hey, listen to me now.”
Her gaze turned down once more.
Nope. That wasn’t happening. “Little girl, you listen to me right
now or you’re going to find yourself in trouble.” She wasn’t his and he had no right to reprimand her. But he didn’t want her feeling bad about this. She raised her gaze slowly, wincing in pain.
“I am not worried about taking care of you while you vomit or have a running nose or even if you need help using the toilet, understand me?”
“But you don’t even know me,” she wailed.
“Maybe not. But you need me. And I want to help you.”
“You cannot tell me you like cleaning up someone else’s vomit?”
He grinned. “Nope, can’t tell you that. However, I do like taking care of little girls.”
She snorted. “Everyone must seem little to you. How tall are you?”
“Six-five.” He tensed, waiting for any sign of fear but none came.
“I’m still really sorry,” she told him. “I thought I could make it to the toilet and back on my own, but when I stood up the room started to spin and then I fell and my head jolted and I thought it was going to explode. I think that’s why I vomited. It still feels like there are shards of glass being pounded into my head. I could really use those painkillers.”
He frowned. “You got out of bed? You didn’t fall?”
“Fall? No. I haven’t fallen out of bed since I was five and had a nightmare that monsters were chasing me.” She shuddered. “That was awful.”
“Monsters are scary,” he said solemnly. “Luckily, daddies are good at scaring them away.”
“Huh. My dad told me to go back to bed and stop being silly.”