Thankfully alone for the time being, Penny eyed the couch like it was an obstacle in one of those reality ninja shows, and it may as well have been. She bit her lip and gingerly lowered herself to the edge of the cushion. It was nowhere near comfy, but it would have to do because another inch back meant rolling to the floor to get back up, and there was no returning from that regardless of time constraints and probably a forklift.
She’d barely tucked her ice pack against her ribs when a second bag of frozen peas dropped onto the cushion. Rafe leaned against the doorjamb to the kitchen entryway, no doubt having seen the spectacle of trying to get comfortable. Too sore and too spent, she didn’t care. She’d already hit her embarrassment quota earlier when Logan recited in explicit detail how Rafe carried her to the van and then into the house. Unconscious.
“For your ribs,” Rafe clarified, when she didn’t say anything. “You must be hurting.”
“Thanks.” As she attempted to stabilize the second bag over her right kidney, she realized that there actually was an inch of room left for embarrassment. The stupid thing dropped out of her numb fingers twice before Rafe stepped away from the door, hand outstretched.
“It isn’t going to do you a damn bit of good like that.”
“I’m good.” She shook her head.
He pointedly glanced at his hand. And waited. “Red.”
She was in too much pain to protest. “Fine. I’m not good, but I honest-to-God don’t think I can move right now. Maybe in a minute. Or sixty.”
“You need ice now, not in an hour.”
“I’m sure you saw how long it took me to actually sit down. It’ll take me at least double that to get up again. An hour’s the best I can do.”
The lines around Rafe’s mouth smoothed as he scanned her face. He surprised her by draping her arm over his shoulder and gently easing her up into a standing position. “Lean on me. Easy does it.”
“And here I was about to do a handstand.” Her gaze dropped to the sight of his threatening smirk. “Sorry. I tend to get a little bitchy when I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.”
“It’s good to know you have the ability to turn into even more of a smartass. But just so you know, you look like you’ve been leveled by a fleet of Macks. Lift your shirt. Or better yet, take it off.”
He didn’t so much as bat an eye at her skeptical glare. This time, he smiled—an honest-to-God, dimple-inducing smile. The rare action brought a tuft of lines to the corners of his eyes.
The man was a walking personification of intimidation, but this version, with his gentle touch and laugh lines, didn’t just take her breath away. It sucked the oxygen straight from her lungs and melted every still-functioning brain cell. Even in thought, she was only able to form one-or two-syllable words.
Hot. Body. Everywhere. Okay, so the last word had a third syllable, but it took a lot of effort. At least the sudden burst of arousal meant her organs weren’t poised on the brink of shutdown.
“Sweetheart,” Rafe said, grinning wickedly, “it’s really unfair to look at me like that when you’re not capable of acting on it. We got to get that ice where it’s going to do some good, and to do that, I need skin. A lot of it. No need to be modest. It’s only the two of us.”
Penny didn’t know if it was worse knowing they were alone or trying to figure out what he meant by that statement. Did he want her to act on it? Or more importantly, did she want him to do the acting? Her head told her no, but the little flutter in her stomach called her a big, bruised-up liar.
“Where did they all go?” she asked, hoping to steer her thoughts away from where they were currently directed.
“To look into a lead across town, and Maria said she was going to make a stop at the market and pop in later. She said something about fixing you from the inside out. Warning, though—that usually means tequila. Sip lightly.”
“Good to know.” Her lips slid into a small smile.
“Are you done procrastinating?” With a lift of his chin, he gestured toward the shirt. “My clothes aren’t going to come off on their own.”
Penny looked down at the T and sweats she’d slipped into after her shower. His clothes. She’d known they weren’t her belongings, which Logan and Trey had commandeered from a reluctant motel manager that morning. But she’d been so thankful not to have to shimmy into snug yoga pants that she hadn’t considered how the extra-large shirt and sweats had ended up on the bed. Now it made sense, and so did the scent of clean soap, musky man, and gun oil.
Rolled into one, it was Rafe.
“I could’ve given you one of Logan’s shirts,” Rafe said, interrupting her thoughts, “but the only thing he had clean had a cartoon picture of a nurse with supersized breasts.”
“In that case, thanks for the clothes.” And thank God she’d struggled into a bra. She lifted the hem of the shirt halfway before sucking in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong?” Rafe asked immediately, sounding concerned.
“It appears my ribs aren’t liking the whole yoga stretch thing.” She mentally cringed at what she was about to ask. “I’m assuming you have practice with taking off a woman’s clothes?”
“It’s practically my favorite pastime.”