“I got it.” She pushed herself up and then grimaced when she put weight on her right leg. “Ouch.”
He had to hide his own grimace, but for a completely different reason. Since he’d left her earlier, she’d changed into boxers and a T-shirt—both of which were now soaked and covered in mud. If it had been anyone else, it would’ve been comical. But all he could focus on was how the garments now clung and outlined every naked part beneath—curves and dips and points. Mud wrestling had never sounded so tempting.
He cleared his throat, thankful for the dark night as his cock hardened behind the fly of his pants. “Are you all right?”
“I think I tripped over a root or something.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and winced a bit. “Pissed off my ankle.”
He frowned at the way her words stumbled into each other, hearing the slight slur in her voice for the first time. Apparently the wine had made it over to her cabin. “Let me help you get back to your place. Do you need me to carry you?”
She shook her head, swaying on her feet ever so slightly. “I can…manage. Just carry the tablet so I don’t get any of this on it. Don’t need another talk from the boss, now do I?”
She took a few hobbling steps and tilted to the left. He reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Enjoyed the wine, Charli?”
“It was soooo smooth,” she said, flashing him an off-kilter smile and stumbling another step. “And potent.”
“So I see.” He tightened his grip, halting her. “Tell you what. This isn’t working. Wait here and don’t move.”
Before she could protest, he left her standing there in the dark and jogged toward her cabin. She’d thankfully left the door unlocked, saving him the trouble of going to his place for the key. Once inside, he found the half-empty bottle of wine and a cupcake wrapper. The roasted chicken he’d sent over looked untouched. He set her computer tablet on the counter and grabbed a large towel from the bathroom.
He hustled back outside, finding she had followed his instruction, something that gave him more pleasure than it should have. He handed her the towel. “Clean off what you can, then I’m carrying you the rest of the way. You may have sprained your ankle.”
“I don’t need to be carried. I’m fine.”
“This isn’t a negotiation. You’re injured and drunk.”
She raised a finger to him. “I am n—”
He cocked his head, giving a pointed glance at her muddied state, and she clamped her mouth shut. With unsteady movements, she wiped off her bare legs and cleaned her arms and hands.
He looked over her shoulder toward the fields, trying to do anything but watch her spread that wet mud along that freckled skin. “What were you doing out here anyway?”r: Roni Loren
She slammed the bottle down on the counter and shot him a look that could wilt flowers. “Goddammit. You said you weren’t going to hover, and already you’re controlling my alcohol selections? Back off, cowboy. I’ve had enough of people telling me what I can and can’t do today.”
He knew he should listen. Clearly she was on edge. But she looked so decadent right then—color back in her cheeks, fire in her eyes, the small curves of her breasts rising and falling with her frustrated breaths. He could tell she wanted to lash out even more, that she wanted to take out her day on someone. She needed a release, and though he’d prefer to lift her up on that counter and show her a more fun way of letting go of all that energy, he knew that wasn’t an option. So he was willing to field her wrath if it took that wrinkle out of her brow.
“So you had a bad day,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the edge of the sink, purposely prodding her.
She narrowed her eyes, then turned back to her groceries, ignoring his statement. “Where’s Tom?”
“Above you,” Grant said, nodding at the ball of fur squeezed between the ceiling and tops of the cabinets. “I was trying to get him down when you came in, but he was less than cooperative.”
She tilted her head back and looked up. “Oh, good Lord, Tommy. Get down from there.”
She made some kissing and cooing sounds and in an instant, the cat slinked to the far end of the space, hopped to the top of the refrigerator, then down onto the counter to Charli’s awaiting arms.
Grant shook his head. He’d been trying to do the same for half an hour and had been convinced the cat was stuck. Apparently, Tom was as strong-headed as his owner.
She set Tom on the floor, and Grant saw the flicker of sadness behind the stoic mask she’d put on after she’d realized he was in the cabin. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. “I know we don’t know each other very well, Charli, but I can be a pretty good ear if you need one. You don’t have to put on a happy face on my account.”
She glanced up at him, and for a moment, he thought he’d gotten through, but her expression went smooth as glass again. “Thanks, but I told you, I’m fine. Why don’t you lay those rules on me? It’s getting late.”
So, she was going with the brush-off. Fine.
He’d let her get away with it…for now.
But if he was going to protect her, she needed to trust him.
Usually not a problem. Gaining a woman’s trust was his stock and trade. Unfortunately, this time he was going to have to figure out how to do it without restraints and a firm spanking.