Emi flashes her eyes to the camera, fire blazing, and flips Maren off, then starts to crouch. She’s unsteady on her feet; even from a distance, I see her calves twitching. Arms cross in front of her as she goes to balance on one foot, stretching the other horizontally. Then it happens. She loses balance, starts to wobble, and her balancing foot slips. She lands awkwardly on the extended leg in a one-sided split and howls.
“Oh, shit,” Maren is heard muttering just before the video cuts off.
“Fuck,” I cringe, cupping my cock and groin with sympathy pains shooting down my leg. “Why were you taping this?”
“To show her afterwards she could do it.”
“That didn’t work out too well,” I point out.
“I know, that’s why I’m plying her with wine, making your dinner, and giving you an out. I’ll stay so you aren’t subjected to the endless torture of her tonight.” She starts rolling pizza dough onto a round stone.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She stops mid-roll and flashes me an approving smile.
“Good answer.”
“What kind of fucking men have you women dated?” I may not be the poster child for relationships, but I know how to treat a woman.
“Well, as you know, I dated the limp-dick of all assholes. She told me she told you about him. Emi’s never dated. I mean, she’s had dates, she’d had sex—”
“Stop right there,” I growl, not interested in hearing more.
“Oooh, the possessive type?”
I start to tell her exactly how possessive I can be, but take a large slug of beer instead.
“Help me!” Emi screams, and I leap up, the chair falling back, ready to get to her.
“Let me.” Maren puts a hand to my chest. “She’s naked and embarrassed.”
“I’ve seen naked women before,” I protest.
“Yes, but we both know this is different.”
“Call me when she’s dressed and I’ll come get her.”
She nods and I follow her out of the kitchen. She goes to Emi’s room, while I go to clear the couch for Emi to lay. A few minutes later, they appear in the hallway, Emi leaning on Maren’s shoulder, hobbling in.
I go to her, lifting her and laying her down on the chaise until she assures me she’s comfortable. Maren disappears, leaving us alone.
“I’m going to rub some arnica in the area, and then we’re going to alternate between ice packs and heating pads for most of the night.” I prop her leg on my knee and massage the ointment on the injured area tenderly. When I get to the ligament, she inhales sharply and I go slower, feeling the tightening beneath my fingers.
“Do you have your gun?” She whimpers.
“I always have my gun.”
“Can I shoot Maren? This is all her fault.”
“You’ll be fine soon. No need for first degree murder.”
“How about manslaughter?” she asks so seriously, I stop rubbing to stare at her.
“How about a kiss instead?” I position her leg back and shift to her side, sliding my arm around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Walker,” she says softly, cupping my cheek and bringing her lips to mine.
“Always, Emi.”
I sweep her hair off her forehead and pat the back of her head lightly. “Time to move, gorgeous.”