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The intensity of the moment eased as she held it up, amusement lighting up her eyes to a brilliant shade of amber. “Are you having trouble saying penis, Clark?”
“No, I am not having trouble saying penis.”
“Uh-huh. I think you are.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you challenging me? ’Cause there is a long list of anatomy names only guys know.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it.”
Victoria called out Merry’s name and he shrugged. “Maybe another time.”
“Perfect save.” She shot him a saucy grin as she took a step backwards toward the house. “I better get inside before she starts counting to three. You have a good rest of your day—ouch!”
Clark took two steps forward when she jerked her left foot up off the ground, slipping a hand under her elbow to steady her. “Hey, you okay?”
Her heart-shaped face pinched with pain as she twisted her leg forward, trying to see the bottom of her foot. “I stepped on something sharp.”
“Hang on. I’ll take a look. Lift your foot this way and a little higher for me.”
Merry swung her foot up behind her so the sole faced the sky. He saw the blood already smeared from the ball of her foot to the heel. A deep cut ran horizontally across the arch and he grimaced.
“You got a nasty slice across the bottom of your foot that looks deep. I’m going to pick you up, all right? Probably faster than you hopping along beside me.”
“I can hobble, really.”
“I’m sure you can, but I don’t want you to lose your balance and make the gash worse.” Clark bent over and lifted her into his arms before she could protest further. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a rush of air escaping her full lips.
“Hang on tight to me and the little guy. Don’t want to lose him again.”
Merry buried her face in his chest with a snort of laughter and Clark’s grip tightened on her. He strode around to the front of the house and up the steps, kicking the door gently with his boot. Holly opened the door, stepping back with a startled expression.
“Merry.” Victoria rushed around the kitchen island, worry etched in the fine lines of her face. “What happened?”
Merry lifted her head, a sheen of tears in her eyes. His heart stuttered at the pain etched in her pale features. “I cut the bottom of my foot on something in the yard. Clark insisted on helping me inside.”
Clark hated the wobble in her voice and held her tighter as Victoria launched into mom mode, motioning him to follow her. “Bring her to the couch and I’ll take a look.”
Clark carried her over and set her gently onto the cushions. Victoria lifted Merry’s foot, inspecting it with a cluck of her tongue.
“Why in the heck would you go running around outside with no shoes on?” Victoria squinted, then barked. “Holly. Grab my glasses from my purse, and the first aid kit. I’ve gotta clean this up. You might need stitches. Clark, can you hand me a towel from the corner cupboard?”
Clark did as she asked and when she wiped at the blood on Merry’s foot, Merry winced and reached for Clark’s hand, still clutching her little johnson against her chest. He kept waiting for Victoria to ask about it, but she was laser-focused on her daughter’s injury.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. You sure did a number on this. I’m going to send your dad out to look and see what in the heck you cut yourself on. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
Merry hissed when her mother probed at her wound, and tightened her grasp on Clark’s hand until his bones creaked.
“Easy, Tiger, you’re going to break my writing hand, and your dad likes my reports legible.”
“Sorry,” she said, easing her hold. “I’m not good with pain.”
When she tried to release him, he held tight. “I’m only teasing, Merry. You kung fu grip me as hard as you need.”
Holly came back in with the kit and handed her mom her glasses. She slid them up over her nose and stuck her head down a few inches from Merry’s foot.
“I was right. We’re going to need to take you to get a few stitches.”
Merry groaned, her face going sheet-white. “Really?”
