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“Then you should have asked Winston to take you, or waited for me and Constance to get out of our meeting. Any of us would have taken you. You made a bad decision.”
“Okay. So I got that wrong. That hardly qualifies as self-destructive.”
“You also shouldn’t have come back here alone.” I prepared antiseptic wipes. “Winston told you to go to the hospital to get this cut looked at. Did you?” I added sarcasm. “No, of course not, because a princess like you knows better.”
I wiped the lower section of the cut with antiseptic to clean it.
She pulled away. “Ouch.”
“Don’t be a baby.” I dabbed at the cut more gently this time, then gave her the bad news. “I’m going to have to undo your bra to get at this.”
“First take off my shirt, then my bra, what’s next?” she sassed.
I wasn’t touching that question. The obvious answer would have been,Everything so I can check you thoroughly.“I can still take you back to the hospital, if you want.”
She shook her head. “No. Go ahead.”
I undid the clasp and removed the shoulder strap on this side. Mentally I thanked her as she gripped the cups to keep from flashing me while I cleaned the gash. My dick couldn’t take it. Then I took up the tweezers. “Lift your arm a little farther.”
“It hurts.” Her lips formed a pouty O, and my mind wandered to what those lips would feel like against mine, or wrapped around me.
I coughed to clear my head. “I have to get the tree branch out. Or do you want a piece of wood embedded in the scar for the rest of your life?”
“Tree branch?” she asked with a laugh.
“Fine. Keep it. It’ll make a great conversation starter when you wear an evening gown to one of those swanky parties.”
She lifted her arm even higher than I needed. “Go ahead.” She sighed.
“That’s good. Thank you.” It took a few tries to dig the offender out. She flinched but didn’t complain. “I got it.” I brought the tweezers around to show her the splinter.
Her brows winged up. “That’s big.”
I nodded. “You can lower your arm now. Cross it over your chest.” The margins were already an angry red. “You really should have gotten this cleaned and closed earlier.”
“You said that.”
I wiped the cut some more and located my glue. “Then you ran to this house without one of us.”
“I’m safe here. This is my house.”
“Wrong.” I leaned down and examined the edges of the cut. “A little farther around with the arm. Squeeze your other breast with your forearm.”
“Why?”
She was argumentative to a fault.
“I’m going to glue the cut shut, and we need the skin properly aligned to avoid a visible scar.”
“Oh.”
When she didn’t get it right, I repositioned her arm over her boob. “Hold it there.”
“Why was I wrong to come here?” she asked as I worked on the cut from back to front.
“Shh...” I’d finished half the cut. “Your attacker left a note on your car. He knows what you drive and where you live. He would also know his best chance was to catch you here, rather than risk guessing wrong about the several possible hospitals you might have gone to.”
She gasped. “You’re saying he could have been here waiting for me to come home?”
