Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
For him, obviously. Not for her.
Ian grabbed his phone and stepped back.
“I totally was,” Jack whispered in her ear as he stood closer to her.
“Keep her foot elevated,” Ian barked. “And find the First-Aid kit.”
She leaned against Jack, breathing in his woodsy scent. Damn, she’d never liked the smell of pine this much before. Just as well, it would be embarrassing to get turned on every time she went into a forest. Or put up a Christmas time.
Jack didn’t move as they heard Ian barking things down his phone.
“Is he always like this?” she asked.
“I’ve only seen him like this when someone he cares about is hurt.”
Right. So it was weird that he’d gone all bonkers when she was hurt since he clearly didn’t care about her.
“Interesting,” Jack muttered.
“What is?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
She decided not to push him for an answer. Sometimes, the things you muttered were better left unheard.
Darn. She should put that on a T-shirt. She could make a fortune.
Her stomach grumbled again.
“Better feed you before your stomach starts to eat you.” Jack grinned down at her.
“It would be just my luck to have a cannibal stomach.”
Jack snorted. “I think you’re safe as long as we feed you.”
She nodded. “Seeing as you look like you eat plenty, I bow to your wisdom.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” He caged her in, his hands on the counter on either side of her hips as he leaned into her. His mouth was a mere inch from hers and her thighs were parted wide around his body as he studied her. If he could have pushed them together, she would have.
His words had been teasing, his lips twitching as though he wanted to smile. But his eyes told a different story. They were filled with heat.
With fire.
Need rushed through her.
Could she kiss him?
Did she dare?
“No, not fat,” she whispered. “Muscular. Big. Strong.”
“Hmm. That’s better, baby.”
Baby? Had he seriously just called her that? What was happening right now?
“What is happening right now?”
Those exact words she’d just been thinking jolted her as they were spoken out loud.
Ian glared at them both. “Jack, why haven’t you gotten the First-Aid kit? And you . . . ” He turned to her.
She pointed at herself.
“Yes, you. Why aren’t you elevating your foot? It’s bleeding.”
Her eyes widened. Sheesh, he was so bossy. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Elevate it. Now.”
Yikes.
“Who peed in his cornflakes?” she muttered.
Jack laughed.
“Excuse me? What did you just say?” Ian asked.
Yep. Muttered things were better left unheard. But perhaps rather than getting it on a T-shirt, she should have it tattooed on her.
“Me? Nothing, Sir.”
Shoot. Where did that come from? She’d intended to sound mocking. Unfortunately, it had come out kind of breathy.
There was silence in the room. Even Jack had grown stiff and was staring down at her in surprise.
“I’m, um . . . just gonna go to bed now.” She attempted to slide off the counter, but Jack wouldn’t budge. So she had to shuffle backward, trying to move her leg around him.
Awkward.
She thrust her right leg up into the air, narrowly missing his face, yet he still let out a low moan. She froze. Blast. She hadn’t hit him, had she?
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“He’s fine.” Ian pulled Jack away from the island. “You’re not going anywhere. Stay there. Jack, make her an omelet while I get the First-Aid kit.”
“I don’t need an omelet,” she countered. “Just a biscuit and a cup of tea will be fine.”
“Your stomach is grumbling. When was the last time you ate?” Ian asked as he grabbed a First-Aid kit out from under the sink.
“I dunno. Eight, I guess.”
“That was only three hours ago,” Jack said, checking his watch. “Maybe she doesn’t need to eat.”
Oh. Crap.
“It’s eleven? At night?” she asked.
They both stared at her. Ian had the First-Aid kit open by now and was holding a massive pad in his hand.
“Wait . . . are you saying you haven’t eaten since eight this morning?” Ian asked.
Um.
Uh-oh. How to answer that? Because it seemed that the answer was of vital importance to both of them.
“Urgh. Yes, I think so.”
Ian started swearing quietly, his face filled with thunder while Jack began cracking eggs into a bowl.
She really hoped that all those eggs weren’t for her. But she decided not to say anything.
Wow. She had excellent self-control.
“Here. This needs to go against the cut.” Ian pressed the big pad to her foot.
“It’s stopped bleeding. I’m sure it’s fine.” She attempted to move away, but he just glared at her.
She froze, staring at his deep blue eyes.
“Stay still.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Crap. Why did that keep happening? And she swore that the tension in his shoulders eased as she called him ‘Sir’.
That wasn’t normal.
“Sir Pimply-butt,” she told him.
Okay. She was losing it.
“What did you just call me?”
“Nothing,” she squeaked out as his gaze narrowed.