The Roommate Agreement(30)

“Yes, it’s very admirable,” he said dryly. “Let me take a look.”

I slowly straightened and moved my hands away. God freakin’ damn it, it hurt like hell.

Jay reached over and pushed up my shirt, his fingers brushing across the bare skin of my stomach. Despite the pain I was in, I drew in a sharp but deep breath at the contact.

“Shit—am I hurting you?” He looked up at me with concern filling his gaze.

I shook my head, pressing my lips together firmly. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else to him. My skin zinged where he was touching me, and a bolt of heat shot through me when he gently pulled down the waistband of my old, ratty fleece shorts.

His fingertips were soft as they brushed across my hip. “It’s just a graze, but it looks like it’s going to be one hell of a bruise for a few days.”

I winced right as his thumb touched the really sore bit. “Great.”

“I really am sorry, Shelbs.”

I pulled down my shirt so he’d stop touching me and gave him a weak smile. “It’s fine. It won’t hurt for long, then I’ll be okay. Hey—you have any of that freeze gel stuff? Will that help?”

He stood without moving back. There wasn’t any space between us at all, and I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat before it made me say something stupid.

For a writer, I wasn’t all that good with actual words.

“I have a box of it in my closet,” Jay said, his eyes searching my face. “Gel and spray, but your skin is broken. It’s gonna sting if you put it on.”

I wrinkled up my nose. “Maybe later?”

He smiled and nodded his head once. “Maybe try an ice-pack. You hit the counter pretty hard; the cold will bring out the bruising and reduce any swelling.”

He stepped away from me to turn to the freezer, and I let go of a long breath. I was almost glad I was in pain. I could use it as an excuse for my reactions to him right now if it came to it.

“Here.”

I blinked. Jay was standing right in front of me with a bag of frozen corn with a dishtowel wrapped around it.

“Put this on your hip,” he instructed me. “Like fifteen minutes or so, okay? You can probably tuck it into your waistband.”

“Right,” I breathed, taking it from him. I almost dropped the bag and had to readjust the towel before I lifted my shirt to expose my side and did my best to put the bag in my waistband. The problem was, I couldn’t hold my shirt, the waistband, and the bag at the same time. It was like juggling wet kittens.

“Let me help you.” He came over again, extracting the bag from my hand. It took him all of ten seconds to secure the bag properly in my waistband while I held my shirt up. His fingers brushed my skin far too many times for me to be comfortable with such close proximity to him, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Jay took half a step back and met my eyes. “Better?”

I nodded, once again not trusting myself to speak.

“It’ll help,” he said. “At the very least, it’ll numb the area and take away some of the pain you’re feeling right now. Tonight, when the skin has healed up a little, I’ll get the freeze gel, okay?”

More nodding from me. Like one of those little fuzzy dogs people used to put on the dashboards of their cars.

I missed those. They needed to come back into style.

“Shelbs? You okay?” Concern creased his brow.

“Yes. Sorry. It’s cold.” I smiled, but even I knew it was weak. The truth was, I’d really hit my hip hard, and I was a bit of a wimp about pain.

He lifted his hand as if he was going to reach for me, then froze as my phone vibrated on the island.

Shit.

My client call.

“I have to get that.” My eyes widened and I half-walked, half-hobbled over to get it. The number flashed on the screen with a vague familiarity, and I dipped my head to answer, deliberately not looking at Jay as I headed to my room.

That was enough closeness for one day.





CHAPTER TWELVE – SHELBY


Hair Does Not Belong In The Sink



Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough closeness.

In the debacle with my hip and then my work call, followed swiftly by a tasty two-hour nap, I’d forgotten all about agreeing to have dinner at Jay’s parents.

I mean, great. That was what I wanted to do when my hip was still smarting and turning into a rainbow.

Not to mention that my new client had given me a slightly tighter deadline than I was used to. Never mind that she was paying me so much more in a rush fee that I didn’t even need a roommate this month, it was still overwhelming.

I thrived under pressure. Unless the pressure was living with a man who I had a major crush on.

Then I didn’t thrive.

Then I wanted to curl into a ball in my closet and hide forever.

But that wasn’t an option, because we had plans. Dinner with his family. Something I usually loved. Don’t get me wrong, I loved spending time with my parents, and I had Brie’s family, too, and her mom happened to be my mom’s best friend, but there was something about Jay’s family.

It was his grandmother.

Betsy Cooper was a delight. She stood at exactly five-foot-tall, but she wore three-inch heels to the grocery store and the butchers, had a violet streak in her otherwise bright-white hair, and wore the brightest pink lipstick you could imagine.