Page 4 of Tinder Embrace
His forbidding tone shut down the impulse to argue, and I focused on cramming the balloon envelope into its carry bag before we shuffled it into the trailer behind the basket, burner, and tanks.
I peppered Gwen and Davis with questions about their weekend plans on the short ride to the clinic, hoping to distract my personal thundercloud from any pain, but Davis's grunts were all I got for my efforts.
I couldn't hold back a hiss as my left foot hit the concrete outside the Campfire Clinic. Davis's frown deepened, and Gwen shook her head. "You should have told me how bad you’re hurt. I could have called Zander or someone to help us load the stuff and just taken you directly to the clinic.”
"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth, focusing on walking the few feet to the clinic front door, one aching step at a time.
Silently, Davis moved under my left side, using his right to support me.
Even annoyed with me, the man couldn’t help but play my champion, so I could be forgiven for growing weak in the knees, overwhelmed by his strength as his big body pressed against mine. He squeezed, a silent reassurance, and I cast him a quick look of thanks. He didn’t need to know how much he stirred me up, just by being himself.
We hobbled into the clinic, welded together from thigh to chest. Together we almost made a fully intact human.
Shaking off the growing fear that I was going to owe Davis big-time for his assistance, we greeted Shawna at the front desk. Davis and I were ushered into separate treatment rooms.
Forty minutes later, I'd been admonished by the clinic’s nurse practitioner to take it easy and issued a prescription for ibuprofen and rest.
Gwen looked up from her phone when I returned to the lobby, brow arched.
"Minor strain," I said. "Where's Davis?"
Gwen nodded back toward the hall, and I caught Davis exiting behind me, his left arm in a sling.
Any hopes that he’d avoided real injury evaporated. It was my fault he’d gotten hurt. Jo wouldn’t be home for days, and he’d banged himself up. I squirmed with the need to make it right. Davis had been there for me when I needed him. Offering him anything less in return didn’t sit right. He might not welcome my help, but he needed it.
"I'msosorry, Davis. How bad is it?" I asked.
"Fine."
His clipped response wasn't exactly reassuring. I bit my lip, worrying it with my teeth as we slowly made our way back to my SUV.
"Where to, Sophie?"
I cleared my throat. "Why don't we drop you off at Sprigs, then I'll take Davis home? We're closer to your place anyway."
Gwen peered at me carefully. "If you're sure. Do you want to stay with me for a few days? The stairs at your place will be murder on that ankle."
I peeked at Davis in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed with pain. "With Jo out of town, I think I'm going to be needed elsewhere." I glanced meaningfully toward the back seat.
Gwen shook her head. "It's your funeral."
Chapter 2
Sophie
Davis was silent after we dropped Gwen off at her place. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed at being forced to spend more time with me, or just despondent over his injury. Either way, I owed him.
"I feel terrible, Davis.” I did my best to apologize as I drove back toward the Pruitt Farm. "Jo's gone a few more days, right?" At his sullen nod from the back seat, I mustered a smile. "Then, consider me your farm helper, roomie."
"No."
I sighed, debating the shortest route to gain his agreement. Whether he was willing to admit it or not, with Jo out of town, he needed an extra hand. Literally. And I couldn't exactly climb two flights of stairs to my apartment in my current condition. Tattling to Jo wouldn't go over well. Best to save that as a last resort.
"You won't even know I'm there," I wheedled.
Davis snorted.
I tried not to let his rudeness hurt my feelings. Most people responded to my bubbly enthusiasm, but Davis had long been the exception. Terse. Grouchy. A loner. All those descriptors fit him to a T. But he was also loyal to a fault, and judging from the kitten foster operation he ran out of his barn, had a big ol’ heart under that broody exterior. He wouldn't let me struggle. Playing the sympathy card was my best bet for orchestrating what we both needed, even if he didn't think he wanted it.
