“Come on. Let’s get you home so you can sit with that foot up.”
10
She wished she’d never brought up that old bat, Mrs. Long. Linc had been quiet ever since. Did he now regret telling her that he was attracted to her? And how crazy was that? Why had he asked about whether her books had BDSM in them? And whether she liked any aspects?
Was it because he was a Dom? She could totally see it. But if that was what he’d been about to confess, he’d obviously changed his mind because he hadn’t said a word about it since.
“You moved into the Stanford place, right?” he asked as he drove through town.
Oh shit.
She couldn’t have him drop her off at home. Not when her aunt was likely to be around.
“Um, yes, but just drop me back at the diner.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “I can’t drop you at the diner. You can’t walk on your foot. You can’t even get your sandal back on it.”
She looked down at her swollen foot
“Maybe I should take you to Doc. I don’t like how swollen it is.”
A doctor? No way was she going to a doctor for a bee sting. Besides, she’d already been away from the house long enough. Rosalind would be starting to wonder where she was.
“It will be fine. No need for a doctor. You can just drop me off at the end of the driveway.”
He gave her a strange look. “Not want to be seen with me, Mari-girl?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Uh, no! That’s not the issue at all. Sheesh, how could you think that? Look at you. Then look at me. You could go into a competition for the Worlds Sexiest Cowboy and win. While I—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Mari-girl,” he said in a deep, commanding voice as he pulled onto her street. “Because I am pretty certain I am not going to like what was about to come out of your mouth.”
She pressed her lips together as he turned into her driveway. Well, her aunt’s driveway. This wasn’t her home. She was given room and board and she should be grateful.
Except she deserved more. She didn’t owe her aunt her life.
“Mari-girl? Marisol? Are you all right?”
She glanced over to find Linc had already stopped the truck and was reaching for her. He undid his seatbelt then reached over to grab her hand. He placed his fingers over her wrist. What was he doing?
Taking your pulse.
“Your pulse is fast. Damn it. I knew I should have taken you to get checked over. We’re driving to the clinic.” He reached for the key to his truck.
“What! No! I’m fine! Really.”
“You went all pale and your breathing picked up. Your pulse is going too fast. Are you feeling ill? Clammy? Hot? Cold?”
She undid her belt and leaned over to squeeze his hand. “Linc, I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry for scaring you. I was thinking about something.”
He frowned. “What?”
She shook her head, not wanting to lie to him. “I have to get inside. My aunt will be wondering where I am.”
He studied her. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Mari-girl, you can tell me if there’s something wrong, you know that, right?”
She sighed. “I can’t talk about it. It’s family stuff.”
Understanding filled his face and he backed off with a nod. “Wait there. I’ll come around to you.”
She knew it was pointless to argue. Those old-fashioned manners of his. He opened her door and reaching down, grabbed her bag, putting it on her lap. That should have been her first clue. But she was still caught by surprise as he swung her up into his arms.
Marisol gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you inside,” he replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “You shouldn’t walk on that foot until the pain and swelling have gone down. Now which door should I take you in?”
“You really don’t have to carry me in. It’s just a bee sting, I’ll be fine.”
The look he gave her could have given a snowman the chills. “Marisol, I know we don’t know each other well. I’m a pretty easygoing guy. But there are some lines you don’t cross with me. And there are some things I don’t bend on. This is one of those things. You’re not walking on your foot until the swelling has gone down and it doesn’t hurt. Now, either I carry you in here or I take you home with me.”
Home with him?
God, it was tempting to say yes to that. She swallowed heavily.
“Here, please. My aunt, um, she isn’t really keen on strangers in her house so she might be, umm. . .”
“It will be fine. Don’t stress,” he murmured to her reassuringly.
He hadn’t been on the receiving end of her aunt’s tirades or he wouldn’t say that. Although, Linc didn’t seem the kind of guy to take shit from anyone.
“Which door?”
Jesus, Marisol. Get it together. Don’t just leave him standing here holding you.
“Through the garage is the best idea, if you don’t mind.” It was a bit further to carry her but she didn’t have a key for the front door if it was locked. Which it likely was.
Unfortunately, she noticed her aunt’s car sitting in the garage as Linc carried her through.
“Nice wheels. Where’s your car?” he asked.
“I keep it around the back.”
He just made a grunting noise. Probably regretting offering to carry her all this way.
“If you put me down in the kitchen, that will be fine,” she told him as they moved through the mudroom and into the kitchen.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“Upstairs, but you really don’t have to carry . . .” she sighed and stopped protesting. “I’m not sure why I’m wasting my breath.”
“Neither am I,” he replied, looking around. “Is this what the place looked like when you bought it?”
She studied the ornate hallway. The floors were marble and the lighting fixtures were all gold-colored. Everything screamed wealth but in the most ostentatious, showy way possible.
“Uh, yeah.”
He started up the stairs.
“Oh no, what happened?” her aunt cried.
She barely contained a wince. Damn it. Too much to hope that they might have got up to her room without her coming across Rosalind.
“Marisol! Did you hurt yourself?” The words were said with fake caring. A show all for Linc. But she could hear the sharp note in her aunt’s voice. She was annoyed. Whether it was about Linc being here or Marisol hurting herself or Marisol being carried by Linc, she wasn’t sure. Probably a combination of all three.
She peered up at her aunt who was dressed in tight pair of jeans and a sheer white top. Oh, and she also had a red, lacy bra on that could clearly be seen through the shirt.
Jesus.
“I’m fine, Rosalind,” Marisol told her. “Just a bee sting.”
Rosalind threw back her head and laughed. “A bee sting? Are you serious?”
Marisol wasn’t surprised at the laughter. It was a very Rosalind reaction to someone else’s misfortune or pain.
“Of course she’s serious. I don’t see how it’s something to laugh at,” Linc said stiffly.