Page 30 of His Hot Mess

I whipped around to see Sadie holding her wrist. All my stupid bravado fell away. She’d hurt herself. I rushed to her side, picking up her wrist. I was still breathing hard.

“Does this hurt?” I asked, squeezing her wrist between my thumb and forefinger.

She flinched but didn’t cry out. “Only a little.”

“What were you thinking?” I asked. I didn’t mean it in a way that I thought she’d done something foolish, but I heard how it sounded the moment it was out there. Plus, part of me knew I’d said it to her to deflect from my embarrassment at showing off.

Sadie jerked her arm away. “I was only trying to help.”

Shit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, already well into my hole.

“I’m fine. Let’s get going.” She stalked over to the passenger side of the truck and went to grab the door handle, then winced as she pulled, the door staying put.

“Here,” I said, coming up behind her. “Let me help you up.” Even if she only bruised her wrist, it would be tough getting up to the cab.

“No!” Sadie snapped. She scowled, hiked her skirt to her knees and pulled herself up with her good hand.

Irritation bubbled in my chest. Why was she so damned stubborn?

I had just turned away when she let out a yelp. I swiveled in time to catch her as she fell backward out of the truck, landing directly into my arms.

I held her there, like a bride, too grateful that I caught her to even enjoy it.

Sadie growled, trying to push herself out.

“Hang on, let me—” I said, but she was already grabbing onto the cab’s seat with her good hand.

“I’m fine!” she practically yelled.

As she pushed off, her sneaker kicked against my gut. I made anoomphsound as the air left me.

Grabbing her leg, I chucked the rest of her in the cab, slamming the door after her.

* * *

We rodethe few minutes back to Sadie’s place in grumbly silence, all the light-hearted talk from the store gone.

How the hell was I going to work with this woman when she couldn’t even slow down enough to see she was putting herself in danger? What if I hadn’t been standing there? What if she’d fallen down and cracked her head open on the pavement of the parking lot?

It would be my fault, that was what. It was my fault she’d felt the need to try to push the wood around and hurt herself. But I didn’t know how to say anything about that without confessing I’d been showing off for her.

By the time I pulled up to the shop I wanted nothing more than to get space between me and Sadie. I wasn’t acting like myself, and I seemed to be making her flustered and irritated too.

“You shouldn’t do any more heavy lifting with that wrist,” I said as I killed the engine. “Even if it’s just a little bruise, best to rest it.”

For the second time that day I was surprised she didn’t argue.

“Fine with me,” she said tersely.

The way she was cradling her wrist, I hesitated before asking, “Can I see it again?”

She held onto it for a moment, then thrust her hand out in my direction.

I felt around her wrist again, trying to ignore the electric feeling of her skin against mine. She winced as I pressed her flesh, but there was no major swelling. She’d be fine.

I wasn’t sure I would be.

Sadie wedged the doors to the shop open and we spent the next while unloading—I lifted the heavy stuff and Sadie carried in the smaller things she could manage with one hand. We were just finishing up when Graydon and Lucy came in.

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