Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(19)

She nodded.

“One, two—”

A sharp, burning pain shot across her shin, and she cried out. Something warm and soft covered the spot.

“Done,” Alec said. “You can look now.”

Breathing heavily, Raegan lowered the towel and glared at him. “That wasn’t three.”

He flashed one of his charming, devilish, adorable grins that made him look ten years younger. “It’s out, isn’t it?” He lifted a hand towel from her leg she didn’t remember him grabbing and checked the wound, angling the towel so she couldn’t see the blood. “Damn but that was a big piece of glass. Bet it hurt.”

Her glare deepened, which only made his smile widen.

“Here.” He reached for her hand, tugging her to sit more upright, and placed it over the towel at her shin. “Keep pressure on this. I need to go grab some first-aid supplies.” He stopped a step away and glanced back at her. “Don’t look at it.”

She flashed him an irritated glower. With a roll of his eyes, he moved through the arched doorway back into the living room.

When the stairs creaked, indicating he’d headed up to the second floor, she lifted the dish towel from her leg. Blood oozed from the gash. Her stomach twisted, and her head grew light all over again. Lowering the towel back over the wound, she swallowed hard, but the room was already spinning like she were in the middle of a pendulum ride at an amusement park, and spots began to form all along her vision.

“Dammit, Raegan.” Alec’s voice sounded really far away. “I told you not to look.”

“I didn’t . . . look. I just . . . peeked.”

Warmth seeped into her spine. Her head fell back against something solid. The familiar scent of pine and citrus surrounded her.

“Right, just peeked,” he said somewhere close. Really close. “Good thing they’re grooming you for an anchor job instead of on-scene reporting.”

She rolled her head. When the tip of her nose brushed his throat and she inhaled his familiar masculine scent, she realized he was holding her up from behind, her back against his chest, his muscular arms wrapped around her waist so she wouldn’t fall off the counter. “Don’t know what . . . you’re talking about.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you do.”

God, he felt good. Strong, solid, warm . . . right. Her eyes slid closed as she relaxed, loving being close to him.

Long seconds passed where all she did was breathe and sigh.

“Feeling less woozy?” he asked softly above her.

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Good. Because I need to get pressure on that wound.”

He shifted behind her, pulling her back along the counter once more. Cool air swept along her spine, replacing all his sultry heat. Before she could stop him, his arms were gone and the wall was once more pressed into her back.

“Don’t fall over.” He stepped away and laid his hand over the towel covering her shin.

Pain spiraled outward from the spot, and she hissed in a breath.

“Sorry.” He lifted the towel again so she couldn’t see and inspected the wound. “It’s deep, but I think it got you at an angle. It’s not very long. Hold still while I get a bandage.”

Raegan caught a flash of red on the towel and quickly looked toward the ceiling, breathing through her nose so she didn’t pass out. She felt Alec’s warm hands at her leg as he cleaned the wound, then pressure when he applied a bandage and finally wrapped her whole calf in gauze.

“I used a butterfly bandage,” he said when he was done. “It still might need a stitch or two. We’ll have to check it in the morning. You steady now?”

Raegan chanced a look down at her leg, covered in white gauze. The room was no longer spinning, and the nausea seemed to be lessening. Slowly, she nodded.

“Good.” He moved around the island. Seconds later, a cupboard door opened and closed, followed by water running in the sink. The water quickly shut off, and when Alec reappeared, he held a blue plastic cup in one hand and two white pills in the other. “Acetaminophen. It’ll help the pain.”

Raegan reached for the cup and held out her other hand so he could drop the pills in her palm. “Don’t trust me with glass, huh?”

“Not anymore.”

She popped the pills in her mouth, swallowed them back with a mouthful of water, and lowered the cup to her lap with both hands. “Sorry about the mess. And nearly passing out.”

“The mess is no big deal. And I remember how you are with blood.” He lifted his right hand from the edge of the counter near her knee and turned it so she could see the thin white scar down the back of his middle finger. “Remember this? You hit the floor before I’d even completely unwrapped the towel from my hand.”

Her cheeks heated with a memory of the night he’d broken his finger playing softball and she’d had to drive him to the ER. “Okay, in my defense, that wasn’t just because of the blood. The bone was sticking out of your finger. Bones aren’t supposed to protrude from the skin.”

A wry smile pulled at his lips. “And the injured person’s driver isn’t supposed to wind up in an X-ray machine, but mine did because she hit her head on the side of the gurney on the way down. I was stitched up and in a hand brace before you were done having pictures taken.”