I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”
He stayed with me on the ground, kneading the area around my kneecap and using two large fingers to press into my muscles. I jumped, but he used his other hand to keep me still. “Hmm. Looks like you twisted it real good. Ibuprofen and ice will help.”
“Thanks, trainer.” I flinched, trying to stand up. He crouched down and instead of helping me up, he scooped me into his arms as though I weighed nothing. Before I could protest, he had me pressed to his chest.
What. The. Hell.
If heaven had a scent, it couldn’t be better than the one radiating off Anderson. A mixture of soap, wood, and something I would forever associate with him. Part of me wanted to nuzzle his neck, bite him, enjoy his arms. The other part was confused. It was weird to feel attraction toward him and pain shooting up my leg. This was the same man who literally was the rudest person I had ever met earlier that week. Talk about mixed signals.
“I can walk, I think,” I croaked out.
“Doubtful. It's already swollen. Is it still pretty far?”
“Yeah. Let's call a car or something,” I suggested, hoping he would take it. He couldn't carry me for a mile. Hell no. “It'll be easier.”
“Sure. I'll ride with you, though.” Then, he set me on the curb as I pulled out my phone. The Uber was still twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes of sitting next to him on the curb. All I wanted to do was fall asleep. “How many more double shifts do you have?”
“Five. Five more.” I closed my eyes with my phone in one hand, my knee in the other. I was thirsty, tired, and disordered. “Every day this week, then it's just the internship.”
He hummed in response. That was fine. I liked docile and calm Anderson. “Is your hand okay?”
“My knee, you mean?” I questioned, unsure what he was asking about.
He chuckled softly. Oh, that chuckle could do things to the female population. It was slow and had a wonderful rumble. My rational brain slapped the other half and stopped that thought from forming. “I meant that night I saw you at the bar. You knocked your hand against the wooden stool.”
“You do remember that night. I wasn't sure.” My eyes remained closed, the memory of that night still fresh. Embarrassment hit me again, hard. Gilly insisted I try flirting. I did. And he dismissed me with barely a shake of the head. And I didn’t recognize him. That’s the worst part.
“Yeah. I remember,” he said it with a hint of resolve, like it pained him. “Anyway, you've worked as a waitress for long?”
“Almost three years.” I yawned, my eyelids becoming heavier by the second. “I'm taking a leave of absence to complete the internship, but afterward I'll go back.”
“Good money?”
“Oh, yeah.” I yawned, again. “I'm struggling.”
“I can see that.” He chuckled that warm sound again. “If you need to rest your head on me, I won't object.”
“That wasn't an Asshole Anderson thing to say.” I smiled as I dropped my head to his shoulder. His large, strong, meaty shoulder. “Nice Anderson is different. Harder to read.”
Then, the sleep took over.
I woke up, however longer later, with my head resting on my boss. My arm was asleep, dangling awkwardly. My knee throbbed with each beat of my pounding heart. Holding my breath didn’t help because the pain only increased. It was like someone had pounded a hammer into my bone.
“Shit. Sorry.” I sat up, wiping my mouth just in case I had drooled.
“I had to wake you. The car pulled up. Come on, I'll help you.” He stood, using one hand to hold my hip and the other to hold my elbow. It was such a kind gesture, it made my head spin.
“Where to?” the old driver asked, a smoker’s voice clear as day.
I buckled in to the Uber. I glanced over at Anderson and sucked in a breath. His expression was soft. Like he was gazing at me instead of plotting my demise. I must've imagined it, though, because I barely made it two blocks before falling asleep again.
“Grace.” Something light touched on my arm. Then, my face. “Grace, we’re at your place.”
“M’kay.” I opened my eyes and slid out of the Uber, thanking the driver. I tried to step on my knee and winced, but then, strong hands gripped my arms, holding me up.
“Come on. I'll help you up. Which door is yours?” Anderson looped one arm around my waist and helped me up the flight of stairs.
“23A.” I totally ignored his scent and the way he kneaded his fingers into my hip. Yup. Totally ignored it. So, up the stairs we went. Me ignoring his body.
“I'm hoping you have your keys, yeah?” His mouth was really close to my ear. His breath hit my delicate skin. But, that didn't matter. Nope.
“Duh,” I managed to get out, rolling my eyes in the process. I found my keys and held them up. “Ta Dah!”
He laughed, taking them from my hand but somehow keeping hold of me. “Don't put weight on your knee. It'll swell worse.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted him. Jesus. I saluted Asshole Anderson. Dear world, take me now please.
“Almost there.” He opened the door, helping me hobble inside, and I went straight for the couch. I plopped down and covered myself with a fleece blanket.
“Thanks, Mr. Anderson,” I mumbled, hoping he would get the hint to leave.
“Not so fast. You need ice and Tylenol, Grace.” He walked right past me, into the kitchen. I opened my eyes, unsure how to act. He yanked and slammed cabinet doors, muttering several curses.
“Aspirin is next to the microwave.” The sooner I obliged, the sooner he would leave. “Ice is in the freezer, you know, where people keep their ice.”
Good one, Grace. Really, really good one.
“Your humor is something else.” Asshole Anderson walked into the living room with a grin, transforming the infamous scowl. He had a hell of a smile. “Take two. Here's some water.”
I took the glass of water and the medicine, still not sure what the hell had happened. Then, he sat on the couch, lifting the blanket off me. “What are you doing?”
“You need to ice your knee. Fifteen minutes.” He took the pack and lifted my leg from under the warm, warm blanket. Once again, his large, overbearing, sexy hands wrapped around my knee and kneaded. “It hasn't gotten worse or better. This will help the pain for tomorrow. Trust me.”
I kept my thoughts to myself on how much I trusted him, but my joints would trust him. He knew what he was doing. I nodded, wincing when the cold hit my skin. “Damn it. That does hurt.”
He lifted a lip slowly into that precious smile. “Don’t be a baby.”
“Thanks for the encouraging words,” I said with a little chuckle. I had maybe three minutes before it was lights out Grace. I already had woken up two times, and the slumber I so desperately craved was so close. So close I could taste it. I took a sip of water, building myself up for doing the right thing. The right thing meant saying thank you even though I would rather eat dirt.
“I have no idea why you are being nice to me, but I'm thankful. So, even though I hate saying this, thank you.” I avoided his eyes when I said it.
He cleared his throat. “Grace, look at me.”