“You look like the kind of man who needs to shut up.”
Saint smiled. “You get grumpy when you’re in pain.”
“Well it hurts,” I whined. “I’m going home.”
Still grinning, he effortlessly picked me up and started up the hill.
“I don’t need to be carried.”
“Probably, but you’d be really slow and life is short.”
“Oh, in that case, go faster and don’t bounce me so much.”
Saint’s smile widened. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital for your knee?”
“No.”
“Urgent care then.”
“No.”
Moving swiftly as if I weighed nothing, Saint gave me a dark look. “I knew a guy who twisted his ankle and figured it was nothing. He didn’t get it checked out and the damn thing rotted overnight. Woke up to find his flesh decaying. He had to have the whole damn thing cut off to save his life.”
Studying Saint, I sighed. “That story isn’t true.”
“No, but imagine if it was. Would you want your leg to be cut off, just because you don’t want to visit the doctor?”
Grinning at his bullshit, I muttered, “I know what’s wrong with my knee. Every once and awhile, I twist it wrong and feel in a world of pain.”
Arriving at his SUV, he set me down and dug into his bag for the keys. I leaned on my left foot and admired Saint’s damp face. No sweaty man should look so sexy.
Saint noticed my gaze on him and smirked. “Don’t try distracting me from taking you to the urgent care. I saw one by the apartment, so I’ll get you checked out then drop you off. You’ll talk to mommy and daddy about staying with me.”
“They’re not going to say yes.”
“Then don’t ask them. Instead, you might check your birth certificate and see if you’re older than eighteen.”
“I live in their house and follow their rules.”
Saint gave me a great smile then shut the door. Just before it closed, I heard him call me a baby. Even if I was immature, the idea of sharing the same bed with this man terrified me. Platonic or not from his viewpoint, I couldn’t look at him without thinking about sex. He seemed to set off everything weak inside me. As much as I’d love to resent him for making me a horny mess, Saint couldn’t exactly control how gorgeous I found him.
Chapter Eight ~ Saint
The clinic wasn’t busy and we didn't wait long. After an x-ray, Harlow sat on a table, frowning at me. When I frowned back, she looked away. Her intimidation lasted only as long as I was frowning. Once I looked away, she was frowning at me again. I finally decided to play with her.
“Are you in terrible pain?” I asked, walking to her.
“Leave me alone.”
“You should elevate your leg,” I said, ignoring her annoyed smile. “Lean back and use me as your pillow.”
Harlow didn’t get my meaning until I lifted her bare leg and rested it over my shoulder. For a moment, she was horrified to have me between her legs. Her terror ended quickly then she laughed.
“I’m not a baby,” she grumbled despite her smile.
“Oh, are you still nursing a grudge about that? Womanly anger is your thing apparently,” I said, massaging her tender knee.
Harlow wanted to be pissed, but my fingers magically shut down her anger. Leaning back on the table, she sighed.
“You don’t like being tempted any more than I do,” I said, holding her gaze.
“I don’t know why I’m tempted at all. You’re awful.”
Her gaze was relaxed and I knew she wanted to smile. Even if she refused to grin, I smiled easily. Harlow’s very existence made me happier than I’d felt in years.
“I could flex my muscles, if you need a reminder of why you’re tempted.”
“I know lots of ripped guys. You’re nothing.”
“Say it again without all the lust in your eyes.”
“It’s the massage. Nothing personal.”
Behind her grumpy calm, I knew she truly feared the lust I stirred up inside her. I didn’t particularly enjoy my feelings for her either. Harlow was too young and damaged for me to tempt. Yet instead of avoiding her, I wanted her to stay with me at the apartment. I was firing on all cylinders lately.
“You’re not my type,” I said, torn between wanting her close and needing her to get the hell away from me. “I like high maintenance women. You know the kind with perfect makeup and styled hair.” When Harlow looked unconvinced, I added, “The scent of hairspray always makes me a little hard. I can’t help it.”
Now frowning, Harlow found herself torn. Should she feel relieved knowing I wouldn’t try to seduce her? Or maybe she was disappointed I didn’t want her? She was confused and I didn’t blame her.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Harlow said, settling finally on hurt feelings. “You’re not my type either.”
“Really?” I asked, nearly laughing at her expression. “What’s your type?”
“Nice guys.”
“I’m nice,” I muttered, massaging her knee until she sighed. “You like pasty white guys, don’t you?”