“Murphy,” the little girl said.
My eyes peeked over his shoulder to the small girl standing across the room as his head whipped around.
“Hush, Lanie,” Brian said. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?”
“Don’t do it until you’re here,” she said.
“Sounds like she’s got ya there,” I said, grinning.
Panning his gaze back to me, he propped my foot against his chest. The wet warmth of his skin sent goosebumps up my skin as I sighed. I clenched my body, trying not to shudder as I curled my toes into his muscles. My body wanted to feel any part of him he would allow me as my tits stood at attention behind the material of my bra. What the hell was wrong with me?
I watched as Brian took out some antiseptic and a pair of tweezers. I knew exactly what he was gunning for first, and I tried to pry my leg away. His eyes flew up to mine as his hand came down onto my foot, steadying his hold on me as my eyes began to water.
“I’ll make it quick,” he said.
One by one, he plucked every splinter out from beneath my skin. Some I couldn’t feel at all, while others hurt like hell, but not once did his hand let up from my foot. His touch was strong. Commanding and domineering. But it wasn’t forceful, like my ex’s. He wasn’t trying to control my movements, he was only trying to steady them.
Tossing the tweezers into the sink, he took out some alcohol wipes. With every swipe he took, my leg jumped. Pain shot up my thigh and I hissed and bit back curses, trying not to startle the little girl in the corner. I saw the nanny trying to hurry her out of the room as a tear rolled down my cheek, but the little girl was pitching a fit every time she was moved.
“Leave her be, Tanya. The crying’s distracting.”
My leg jumped as Brian rolled over a deep gash and his hardened gaze flickered up to mine.
“And so is that,” he said.
“Sorry, it hurts.”
“Then don’t go walking on wood that looks unstable.”
“I had no idea it was unstable,” I said.
“Shining a simple light on it would’ve told you everything you needed to know.”
“Oh? And how’s that?” I asked.
“If it’s splintering from the floor, it’s not to be walked on,” he said.
Fuck. Like the splinters on the front porch I had seen as I walked up.
He tossed the bloodied alcohol wipes into the sink as well then grabbed gauze and an ace bandage. He layered some sort of goopy solution on my shin, causing me to wince as I tried not to jump.
He wrapped up my leg and then offered me some Tylenol and a glass of water.
“You good?” he asked as he took the glass from me.
“I think so, yes.”
“Good. Can you walk?”
I jumped down from the kitchen counter as his arms reached out to catch me. I collapsed against him, hissing as pain shot up through my knee. I’d really done a number on my shin , which meant I wasn’t going to be able to clean the house like I’d planned.
And how the hell was I going to afford to repair that damn staircase?
“Yep. I can walk,” I said.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Brian argued.
“Would you put on a damn shirt, please?” I asked.