The Bet

11) Playing Nurse

Miss Camila gently pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, revealing a mark on my eyebrow.

  I know it was bleeding before, but I'm pretty sure it's fine now.

As I was about to tell her just that, she pushed herself up and grabbed hold of my hand.

"C'mon, let's go to the restroom. I have a first aid kit in there."

Before even providing a response, I was being dragged up the stairs. My fuzzy, wine drunk mind didn't think twice about being pulled upstairs to a beautiful woman's restroom.

  Sober me probably wouldn't have the guts to follow.

I marched happily up the stairs behind her, forgetting why I wanted to refuse her request in the first place, and blushed when we arrived and she did her charming place-me-on-the-counter-like-I-weigh-nothing trick.

"Comfortable up there?" She grinned up at me.

I nodded aggressively.

I'll admit, maybe a little too aggressively in my state. My fuzzy mind just got a little fuzzier.

But her smile cleared it like the Red Sea. "Good."

Warmth flooded my cheeks up to my ears.

I'm crushing way too hard on a dangerous woman I just met.

At least tomorrow I can blame my questionable crush on the wine, especially when I inevitably feel beyond embarrassed by my behavior tonight.

After she ensured I was comfortable, like the angel she is, her demeanor changed before starting her analysis of my well-being.

Little does she know, this is the best I've felt in what feels like forever.

Nope, not gonna think scary stupid things like that anymore.

Relax, Sam. You're wine drunk, remember? You're just love horny, like you usually get.

Right, but it's never been this bad —

"Does your ankle hurt?" I was viscously yanked from my internal debate by the pretty lady frowning up at me.

I suddenly got the absurdly strong need to wipe the concern off her face, but her question did make a faint memory surface in my fuzzy mind. I think I remember rolling my ankle after stepping on one of Mickey's game controllers before I left for work today, and the annoying pain I felt for a while after.

  I glared at my stupid swollen ankle for making her upset. "Only a little, Miss, it's no big deal," I tried to reassure her, because it really is not that bad.

"Hush. We're icing this before you go to bed tonight," she informed me, leaving no room for argument.

I swallowed my protests. I hate icing wounds. It's wet, cold, and boring, but I've never really been the one to argue, especially not with someone like her. I'll just hope she forgets about it.

After I didn't argue further, slowly, her hand glided up my leg, feeling for any more swelling.

I gulped at the feeling of her hand caressing my thigh up to my shorts. To make matters worse, her pretty nails lightly grazed my skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

I quietly cleared my throat. Get your mind out of the gutter, Sam. She's trying to help you.

  Once she was satisfied with my right leg, she switched to my left. Again, goosebumps followed her touch from my ankle all the way up to my knee, where there was a scrape. It didn't help my pounding heart when she glanced up to look at me.