Falling for the Groomsman (Wedding Dare, #1)(27)

“Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped. She picked up her shirt and started to turn it the right way out. “I’m not broken or hurt or weak. I’m fine.”

“I never said you were.” He yanked the shirt out of her hand before she could put it on. “But I need to clean those wounds so they don’t get infected.”

“Oh my God.” She threw her hands up. “It’s a sex injury. You don’t have to go all Dr. McDreamy on me, for the love of God.”

His lips quirked. “You can call me that while I f*ck you if you want,” he said, his voice heavy despite his amusement. “But we’re not moving on until I treat you.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe I should call you Dr. McStubborn. Or Dr. McAss.” She pressed her lips together. “Or Dr. McCo—”

He rubbed his jaw. “I think I get the point. I’m a stubborn ass. Now let me look at your back.”

“Yeah? Well…” She lifted her chin. “I’m refusing treatment.”

He stiffened. “I’m refusing your refusal.”

“I’m refusing your refusal of my refusal.”

“I’m refusing—” He broke off and shook his head, looking up at the sky. “You know what? We’re wasting time. Sit down.”

“No.” She stomped away, bending down and picking up his shirt as she passed it. She spun on him but didn’t stop walking. “I’m fine and I don’t need you fawning—” Her eyes went wide, and next thing he knew she was gone.

Just…gone.

He sprang into action, bolting toward where she’d just been. He skidded to a halt and looked down the hill. She lay at the bottom of it, not moving. “Fuck.”

He made his way down the hill, the branches scratching him as he hurried by. One smacked him right underneath his eye, stinging like a motherf*cker, but he ignored it. He made it down the steep hill within ten seconds, and dropped to his knees at her side. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head, her eyes on the sky. “No. I’m not okay, Dr. McAss.”

He ignored the insult. “Shit. Let me see.” He brushed her hair off her face gently and leaned in, examining her pupils. For once, her blue eyes didn’t distract him. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

He ran his hands over her arms. “Can you move your toes and fingers?”

Her lips twitched. Oh, hell. Was she about to cry? He couldn’t handle her tears. Never could. “Yes, I-I think so.”

“Good, then we don’t have to worry about concussions or paralysis.” He swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his ears. “I’m going to check you for injuries. I promise to be gentle so I don’t—”

“I-I—”

Oh no. She was going to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, his heart thudding in his ears. “Shh. I’m here. Don’t cry. Please. I can’t stand to see you sad.”

She made a weird choking sound, and she burst into hysterical laughter. “Oh. My. God. You should s-s-see your face right now!”

She pealed off into another fit of laughter, clutching her stomach and rolling over onto her side, her knees bent in the fetal position. He let go of her, frowning down at her back. Guess he could rule out any sprains in her knees or her back. He rocked back on his heels and studied her, not sure what to say or think right now. “You find this funny?”

She rolled his way again, looked at him, and laughed even harder, tears streaming down her face. “Y-Yes, I find this funny. I tried to run away and fell down the freaking hill with no shirt on in the freaking woods, and you’re acting like…like…” She dissolved into laughter again, but managed to finish off with, “Like I’m dying or something.”

His lips twitched, and son of a bitch if he didn’t start laughing, too. He fell back against a tree, banging his head in the process, and she laughed even harder at that. He did, too. Fuck, he didn’t even know what they were laughing at anymore, but it felt good.

He never laughed like this. It wasn’t…him. Or was it? Maybe he’d forgotten who he really was, over the course of the years. He remembered laughing his ass off with her in Mexico, too, those rare times when she’d managed to actually have fun.

By the time they both wound down and could breathe again, the sky was even darker and she was still half dressed, lying in the dirt with an injured back. He stumbled to his feet and held his hand out for her. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.”

“All right.” She struggled to sit up. “I’m ready. Honestly, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry so much.”

He studied her furrowed brow, knowing she was hurting somewhere even if she wasn’t willing to admit it, and rubbed his aching head. “Just let me check you over real quick anyway. For my own peace of mind.”

She gave a small nod and slid her hand into his. Once she was on her feet, he ran his hands over her body, checking for any contusions or broken bones. When he reached her leg, she stiffened. Going slower, he skimmed his fingers over her left ankle.

“Ow,” she hissed, clenching her teeth tightly at his touch. “That hurt.”

He nodded, squatting in front of her ankle. He squinted in the dim light, but even with more shadows than sun behind him, he could see it was swollen. Already, it had turned a nasty yellowish-greenish shade. He probed it gently, wincing when she cried out.