Well, she’d tried to do some more research. This time into the Devil’s Sinners. But she knew what she’d found would just give her nightmares so she’d given up.
She hadn’t seen Spike since breakfast. She couldn’t say if she was relieved or disappointed.
Maybe a bit of both.
Would he mind if she made lunch? She felt like she should since he wouldn’t let her lift a finger at breakfast.
With a groan, she searched through the cupboards and fridge, deciding to make grilled cheese sandwiches. She picked up a frying pan and started heating it up on the stovetop. She got the sandwiches put together then placed them on the hot pan.
Oh. Wait. She just thought of something to add to her notes. Moving back to her laptop, she reminded herself not to forget about the grilled cheese.
* * *
The alarm blared, and he jumped to his feet.
Shit!
Smoke alarm.
Racing out of his office, he ran down to the living area. Where was she? Why hadn’t he been keeping a closer eye on her? Fuck it! He’d holed up in his office all morning to avoid her and the way she made him feel. The things he was tempted to do.
And now he had no idea where she was.
Doing a great job of watching over her.
Smoke drifted out from the kitchen as he raced in. He found her at the stove, picking up a smoking frying pan from the c
ooker.
“Millie!”
Mr. Fluffy started barking and she screamed, the pot slipping from her hand and landing on her foot. She cried out in pain, dropping to the floor and grabbing hold of her foot. Fuck! Racing over, he picked her up off the floor, setting her on the counter. He quickly checked the stove to make sure it was off. All the smoke must be from whatever she’d been cooking.
“What happened? Did the pan hit your foot?” he yelled.
She nodded, tears dripping slowly down her face as she sobbed.
“It’s okay, baby. Hang on.”
He grabbed a clean cloth and wet it, placing it on the red patch on the top of her foot.
“Hold that there.” He raced over and opened the sliding door then hastened over to the pad on the wall by the backdoor, turning off the alarm.
He ran back into the kitchen. She still sat where he’d put her, holding the cloth to her foot. He turned the cold water tap on then gently turned her, placing her foot under the stream of water.
“Keep your foot there. I’ll get the truck. Get you to the emergency room.”
“I’m . . . I’m so sorry!” she wailed.
“Shh. You’ll be okay.”
“I j-just wanted to m-make lunch. I m-mess everything up.”
“Hey,” he warned, clasping hold of her chin and turning her face towards his. “You do not mess everything up. Now I’m gonna get my truck to drive you to the emergency room. Keep your foot under the cold water.”
She swiped at her cheeks with her arm. “Don’t need to go to the emergency room. It’s all right. It’s just a burn.”
“It could be broken.”