My heart raced hearing my name on her lips.
She leaned closer, giving me a glimpse down her shirt and the full swell of her breasts. Desire shot between my legs before horror replaced it at the slice across her perfect skin. Blood splattered, rust-coloured, and no longer flowing but the large laceration showed just how hurt she was.
Shit.
“Who cares about me? What about you. How badly are you hurt?”
Her eyebrow rose as she followed my gaze. Slapping a hand over the gaping top, she sniffed. “That’s none of your business. I asked about you.”
I reached for her, wanting to rip the neckline and force her to admit that she wasn’t okay. That it ought to be me taking care of her not the other way around. “Let me see—”
She swatted my hand. “No chance.” Temper glowered on her face. “Answer the damn question and forget about me. On a scale of one—”
“One to ten?” Fine, if she didn’t want me to care for her, she could just leave me the hell alone. “I’d say a fucking eleven.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Don’t swear.”
Great, now I was aroused and annoyed and pissed off that I couldn’t do a damn thing to help the people around me. They deserved attention far more than I did. I didn’t do well being told off—no matter that she was right.
Breathing shallowly, her fingers suddenly splayed along the length of my leg, travelling from swollen shin, deformed ankle, to my mangled foot below.
Every muscle in my body clenched. I swallowed my agonising groan.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I think you’re right.” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to be a pessimist but I think a few metacarpals in your foot are broken, your ankle most definitely is, and perhaps your tibia, too.”
She leaned closer, and I had no hope in hell of not staring at her parted mouth and thick eyelashes. The island faded. My leg faded. Everything faded but the chemistry dragging me deeper into her spell.
“I’m so sorry, Galloway.”
Who are you?
She had no idea the effect she had on me (or if she did, she wanted nothing to do with it).
“It’s swollen and hot and the deformity is worrying.” Sitting on her haunches, she gave me a weary smile. “I guess all we can do is hope your body knows how to heal and do as much as we can to prevent a clean knit...until we’re found, of course.”
So basically...I’m screwed.
I didn’t want to think about my disability. I didn’t want to come to terms with what the injury would mean. All I wanted was a simple reminder of happier things and for whatever reason...she had the power to make me forget.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. The make-up she’d been wearing last night had washed off in the storm and a rivulet of mascara smudged below her eye.
Without thinking, I ran my thumb along the soft skin of her cheekbone.
She turned frigid. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Now, what was her problem? I couldn’t be nice? I couldn’t tend to her while she tended to me?
I shrugged, doing my best to downplay what’d happened. “You had dirt on your face.”
Conner snickered. “We’re all covered in dirt. I don’t think a speck on her face is gonna be a problem.”
I glared at him. I liked the kid, but he’d better not form a habit of making me look like an idiot. I did that fine all on my own.
Estelle ran her hand where my thumb had touched her. Her eyes softened just a little. “Well...thank you. But Conner’s right. I’m filthy. We all are.”
I wanted to bring up the fact she was hurt again but didn’t know how to do it without her slapping me or worse...leaving me with no way of chasing after her.
Pippa tugged Estelle's hair. “My Mummy never lets me get this messy. Can I have a shower so I don’t get into trouble?”
All of us collectively tensed. Poor girl. The simple necessities of showering and eating with utensils had been stripped for the foreseeable future.
You don’t know that for sure.
Estelle plastered a fake smile on her face. “I’ve got something even better than a shower.”
Pippa brightened. “Oh?”
“How about a bath in the ocean? It’s so blue and pretty and maybe a dolphin will come and swim with you.”
Conner sucked in a ragged breath—not because Estelle soothed his baby sister but because of the word ‘ocean.’
I latched onto it, too.
“You’ve been on the beach?” My voice was gruff and snappy.
Estelle narrowed her eyes. “I have.”
My patience stretched too thin. “And...”
“And what?”
“And what did you see? Are we close to another island? Do you recognise where we are?”
She smoothed Pippa’s hair with gentle fingers while her voice hardened. “How would I recognise it? I’ve never been to Fiji before.”
Conner said, “Did you find help?”
Estelle’s anger faded—it seemed only I deserved her wrath. “No, I’m afraid not.”
I butted in again. “Where did you end up? After the crash, I mean?”