Page 41 of Dance with Me
Good. Maybe if he annoyed her enough, she’d let him past her walls. He shrugged. “Just looking out for you. Someone has to.”
Her expression turned fierce. “No. I need to take care of myself.”
Need to? That was interesting. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Why?”
“I just—I just do. I have to do it on my own.” She turned her face away from him and covered it with her arm.
Dimitri stroked her good leg and waited, hoping she’d say something else. When she didn’t, he got to his feet. “Stay here. I’m going to get the other things from the car.”
Her voice was muffled. “What about my car? It’s still at the gym.”
“I sent a couple guys from the restaurant to get it. It should be here soon.”
“Oh.” Her voice was small. “Thanks.”
“Anything you need, Tasha. I’ll do it.”
She sighed.
Dimitri went back out to the car and parked it in the garage. Okay, so she was still holding back. It was bad that she was injured, but at least now, she couldn’t get away from him. Before she was back on her feet, he’d get to the bottom of her feelings for him.
And then he’d know, one way or the other.
18
If Dimitri didn’t stop coddling her, Natasha was going to murder him.
After she fell asleep in his bed, he woke her up and forced her to eat leftovers from the night before, watching to make sure she didn’t go back to sleep until the plate was clean.
Shit, had it been only yesterday that Dimitri had seduced her in the kitchen? Only yesterday that she’d broken her “no sex” rule? It seemed like ages ago now.
She stopped arguing with him about being in his bed. Anyway, the crutches were out of reach, and his bed was bigger. But when he insisted on carrying her into his master bathroom, she balked. He did it anyway, but she bitched at him the whole time.
“Dimitri, I’ve been injured before. I’m a dancer. It happens. Let me take care of myself.”
“Your version of taking care of yourself will land you back in the hospital,” he shot back. “You don’t know how to sit still.”
She growled, but the painkillers were still going strong, and it was easier to just go back to sleep. She didn’t even care that he was in the bed beside her.
The next morning, her ankle was killing her. He insisted on carrying her into the bathroom again while she heaped Spanish curses upon him.
He only laughed and waited outside the toilet stall. When she was back in the bed, he rewrapped her ankle, clucking over it likeuna viejita,and packed it in new ice packs. He brought her breakfast and would have fed it to her if she’d let him, but since she hadn’t taken her meds yet, she was in a fighting mood and snatched the plate away from him.
As the painkillers were kicking in, he kissed her forehead and placed her phone next to her. “I have to stop by the restaurant for a few hours. You should call Gina.”
She shook her head, eyes falling shut. He lifted her glasses off her face. From her left came a soft tap as he set them on the bedside table.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Why not what?” Talking was hard.
“Why not call Gina? She’s your best friend. She said she hasn’t heard from you in a while.”
“Macho,did you tell Gina I’m living here?”
“I told her you’re staying with me while you heal. She doesn’t know you were already here.””
Natasha groaned and snuggled into the pillow. “Gina’s got her own life now. I don’t want to bother her. And I need to handle shit on my own. I can’t keep leaning on her.”
