Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“I can walk.”
“Not happening on my watch.”
Lord. Where did all this protectiveness come from?
“All right,” she grumbled. “Not like I have much choice.”
“That’s right,” he said cheerfully.
Urgh, he was like a yo-yo, back and forth. Cheerful then stern. It was hard to keep up.
Spencer slowly slid his arm under her thighs and around her back. “You should have told me as soon as you had to go. It’s not good to hold on. You’ll give yourself a UTI.”
Good Lord.
Did he really just say that?
He lifted her slowly into the air.
Shit. That hurt. She bit down on her lip to hold in her cry of pain. But he quickly got her to the bathroom.
“Fuck. Sorry, Princess,” he told her.
“It’s fine. Why do you call me a princess?” she asked. It was something she’d asked him in the past, but he’d never told her.
Right now she was as far from a princess as a person could get, wearing worn Christmas pajamas and having to be carried to the bathroom.
“Because you are a princess.”
She snorted. “You’re having to carry me to the toilet. That’s not very princess-like.”
“Really? I thought that was very princess-like. I’m carrying you to your throne.”
She rolled her eyes. “That was terrible.”
“I live to serve, my princess.”
What was she going to do with him? Urgh. She just realized she was smiling up at him and wiped it off her face.
Sadness filled his eyes. “It was nice to see you smiling again.”
Yeah, she couldn’t really remember the last time she’d smiled like this. She’d managed to smile sometimes for Maggie. But all of that had taken effort.
This had felt natural.
She let out a small sigh.
“It’s all right, Princess. We’ll help you smile again.”
Indie shook her head. She didn’t have the energy left to argue with him. All she wanted was to pee and hopefully get some painkillers for her thumping head.
“I’m going to put you on your feet but hold onto you,” he warned. “Then I’ll help you take off your pants.”
Indie didn’t have time to protest before he carefully lowered her legs. He held onto her upper arms and waited for her to adjust to standing.
“I’m fine,” she said in a faint voice.
The room was spinning slightly but that was nothing she couldn’t deal with. Same with the nausea bubbling in her stomach.
“Probably should have gotten you a bed pan.”
“No,” she said hastily. “Not happening. I am not peeing in a pan.”
“Better than you being in pain like this. What about one of those chairs that they wheel over to the bed that have the bed pan under it?”
Jesus.
She’d thought the UTI conversation was as bad as things could get. Seemed she was wrong.
“No.” It was all she could say to him.
“I could have pulled your pants down while you lay in bed, then lifted you straight on.”
“Double no.” She was pretty certain he was joking.
But sometimes it could be difficult to tell.
“No?” he said, sounding disappointed.
“No! We do not have that sort of relationship,” she informed him.
“The kind where I pull down your pants? Oh, that’s disappointing.”
“Spencer! Be serious,” she chided.
“I am.”
Oh. “You know we don’t have that sort of relationship.”
“What if I want that?” he whispered.
“I’d say that your timing is off. A couple of years ago, I’d have leapt at the chance to date you. But now I don’t see how I can possibly trust you again.”
It hurt her to say that but it didn’t make it less true.
“I will earn that back. I wasn’t talking about dating, though.”
Oh my God. Had she gotten that wrong? She ran over their conversation in her head. Had he meant that he wanted to just fuck her?
“Do you think you can hold on to my shoulders while I crouch down without falling over?”
“Uh, I guess. But why?” she asked, trying to hide her embarrassment.
He crouched slowly down, putting his face level with her stomach. What the heck?
“Hands,” he said firmly, glancing up at her. “Or I’ll get one of those chair-bed-pan-thingies.”
She snorted at the name but placed her hands on his shoulders.
She blamed the headache for not realizing what he intended. But as he reached for her pajama bottoms, she finally clued in. And she drew back suddenly.
Her body protested the movement. God. It felt like a knife was being stabbed into her side and she let out a cry of pain.
“Fuck! Shit!” Spencer said.
She was barely aware of Spencer standing, the way his hands hovered over her as though he wanted to touch her but was too afraid of hurting her.
“Indie? Are you all right? What can I do?” he asked desperately.
“Just . . . just leave. Please. Just leave.”
“I can’t leave you like this. I’m so sorry.”
“Is everything all right in there? Indie? Do you need help?” Monica called through the door as she knocked.
“Yes, please,” Indie called out.