Page 30 of Flirting With Forever
She tried to hide her responses but couldn’t. And even if he had to feign sickness or injury himself, he felt the compulsion to do whatever it took to ease the stress she obviously felt about staying upstairs with him. “How’s the ankle?”
He’d nearly forgotten about her limping into the bathroom, more focused on the many cuts and blood on her limb-battered body, but now that he remembered, he dropped into a crouch and wrapped his hands around her calf and foot.
“It’s fi?—”
She didn’t finish the sentence due to a gasp of pain, and he shook his head. “Yeah, right. That doesn’t sound fine to me.”
“It hurts some,” she said, grimacing.
“You’re staying up here and off that foot. It’s swollen.”
“It’s just a little sprain. I must’ve twisted it when I fell.”
“You mean when you were knocked down by a tree.”
“A branch. An itty-bitty limb,” she said, downplaying the moment. “Not a tree.”
“You’re hurt. Stay up here and off that foot, and let me take care of you so I don’t spend every minute worrying if you’re okay.”
She blinked at his words, and he shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he’d revealed a little too much, but it was true. “I think my heart stopped when I heard you scream and saw you under the tree.”
“Just a limb,” she whispered.
“Fine. A limb. But are you really going to make me worry about you all night when you could be tucked on the couch with me waiting on you hand and foot?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
He caught her slight smile before she set her lips into a firm line and stared at him.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run off with the silver?”
So she’d noticed he’d locked the entry to his part of the house. He didn’t wish her pain, but he’d kind of hoped she’d been out of it enough to not be aware of the locked door as he’d carried her up. “Force of habit,” he said by way of excuse. “You need anything I have that badly, it’s yours to take.”
He told himself he just felt guilty that she’d gotten hurt. She’d been trying to help him take care of a neighbor’s property of all things. Not even something her temporary job would’ve required of her.
“Gage…”
“Sloane,” he said, matching her tone. “Look, I can tell you don’t like storms and this one? It’s gonna get a lot worse. Why go downstairs and freak out over every sound when we can blast the TV until the electricity goes out, make something good to eat, and play a mean game of Scrabble or Monopoly?”
She blinked at him, those big green eyes of hers drawing him like a tsunami sucking him out to sea. “Fine. That does sound better, but I warn you, boss or not, I play to win.”
He chuckled and began gathering up the paper packaging of her bandages. “I do too. That just means it’s game on.”
Hours later, they stared at an impressively well-matched board. While he’d been the first to conquer real estate, she’d snatched up all the utilities and enough property of her own to keep things interesting. They’d maximized every advantage and were as close to even in the game as they could be, given their cash values.
The hurricane had made landfall just south of Carolina Cove. Not a direct hit, but they were still getting plenty of action. Gage was aware of how Sloane grew leerier and more frightened of the chaos outside. Every lash of the wind and rain against the shuttered windows brought a flinch or a wince or some reaction from her. “Let’s call it a draw.”
“A draw? You’re giving up?” Sloane widened her eyes in exaggerated surprise.
“We haven’t made any progress in an hour. Cashed out, we’re even. So yeah, I think it’s a draw.”
“But if you’re giving up, I win,” she countered.
He narrowed his gaze on her, liking her competitive spirit. “Or we call it a draw.” Because let’s face it, he didn’t like losing any more than any other guy.
She tapped a bare fingernail against her plush lips, drawing his gaze. The moment his eyes locked on her lips, however, she stopped, lowered her hand and nodded a bit awkwardly.
“Fine. It’s a draw. But my top hat claims victory because it considers a draw a win.”
