Read Online In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) by Virginia Kelly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Virginia Kelly
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vulnerability.
She knelt in front of him and pulled up his shirt. She had to bite her lip to contain her gasp.
“That’s deep.” And bloody . “Is this a knife wound or a bullet wound?” she asked. She’d never seen either before, never thought she would.
“Bullet. Never mind. I can take care of it myself,” he said, pulling his shirt back down.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, knowing full well he’d understood her shocked reaction.
“It’s pretty ugly.”
“No one could ever accuse a bullet wound of being pretty.” She took clean gauze and soaked it with antiseptic lotion.
He winced as she wiped around the wound. She held her breath.
“How did it happen?” she managed.
“My luck ran out,” he said on a hiss as she used a fresh, antiseptic-soaked gauze pad to dab gently at the area.
“The bullet—?”
“Just grazed me.”
She looked up to see him gazing beyond her, pain evident in the terse line of his lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked down at the wound, then up, to meet her eyes. “That it grazed me?”
She laughed. Hysteria, she was sure. Prepared to apologize, she caught the uptilt of one side of his mouth. The smile reached his eyes, softened his features. It made him look younger, even more attractive. He held her gaze for an uncomfortable moment, then reached for the gauze still clutched in her fingers.
She shook her head. “No, I can do it. Let me…” But her protest died on her lips. She couldn’t figure out what to do with his hand on hers, couldn’t deal with the look in his eyes. The same look she’d seen when she came back into the barn.
Heat?
No. No way. She was projecting.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, releasing her hand and the gauze. He was staring at her mouth.
“I can handle it.” She looked at the wound. She wouldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t . “Stand up.”
The uncomfortable moment passed. The wound looked even worse from the side. Ragged and inflamed. She cleaned it with antiseptic, put topical antibiotic on a gauze pad, then taped it all up.
Handing him two tablets, she said, “Antibiotics.”
“You sure these are safe?”
“I’m positive. Vets use human antibiotics a lot. This is one I’ve taken myself.” He looked doubtful enough that she added, “I’m still human. Promise.”
He gave her another one of those smiles, proving she was all too human—and all too female.
Before she made a fool of herself, she handed him the envelope of tablets. “I wrote the dosage down. You have enough for a week.”
“Coke!” Cole shouted.
Abby jumped. Feeling guilty. But guilty of what?
JP dropped the front of his shirt and zipped up the windbreaker again before Cole had a chance to see anything.
When her son stood before him, he let Cole take his hand and lead him toward the back of the barn, through the door, and outside. He paused, his stance wary, and looked around as her child pulled at him. With one last look toward the road, they walked along the edge of the corral, still close enough to the barn to be in the cooling shade, a tall man and a small boy. Cole looked up and said something to JP, who threw back his head and laughed. Then he gingerly lifted her son onto his shoulders.
Abby hugged herself. She hadn’t been interested in any man since Wade’s death. When anyone tried to play matchmaker, she’d used the excuse that it was much too soon. And it was, for her. But Cole needed a father. Her brother represented the only stable male influence in his life, but Steve could never take the place of his father.
No one would.
Cole chose that moment to laugh, his giggle so different from the one he used with her that she wanted to snatch her baby from JP and tell him not to enthrall her son with his masculinity.
As he had her .
The mere thought stopped her cold. She could not open that door. JP was as forbidden a territory as Wade should have been. Worse—once burned, twice shy.
No, not shy. Scared .
She
She knelt in front of him and pulled up his shirt. She had to bite her lip to contain her gasp.
“That’s deep.” And bloody . “Is this a knife wound or a bullet wound?” she asked. She’d never seen either before, never thought she would.
“Bullet. Never mind. I can take care of it myself,” he said, pulling his shirt back down.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, knowing full well he’d understood her shocked reaction.
“It’s pretty ugly.”
“No one could ever accuse a bullet wound of being pretty.” She took clean gauze and soaked it with antiseptic lotion.
He winced as she wiped around the wound. She held her breath.
“How did it happen?” she managed.
“My luck ran out,” he said on a hiss as she used a fresh, antiseptic-soaked gauze pad to dab gently at the area.
“The bullet—?”
“Just grazed me.”
She looked up to see him gazing beyond her, pain evident in the terse line of his lips.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked down at the wound, then up, to meet her eyes. “That it grazed me?”
She laughed. Hysteria, she was sure. Prepared to apologize, she caught the uptilt of one side of his mouth. The smile reached his eyes, softened his features. It made him look younger, even more attractive. He held her gaze for an uncomfortable moment, then reached for the gauze still clutched in her fingers.
She shook her head. “No, I can do it. Let me…” But her protest died on her lips. She couldn’t figure out what to do with his hand on hers, couldn’t deal with the look in his eyes. The same look she’d seen when she came back into the barn.
Heat?
No. No way. She was projecting.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, releasing her hand and the gauze. He was staring at her mouth.
“I can handle it.” She looked at the wound. She wouldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t . “Stand up.”
The uncomfortable moment passed. The wound looked even worse from the side. Ragged and inflamed. She cleaned it with antiseptic, put topical antibiotic on a gauze pad, then taped it all up.
Handing him two tablets, she said, “Antibiotics.”
“You sure these are safe?”
“I’m positive. Vets use human antibiotics a lot. This is one I’ve taken myself.” He looked doubtful enough that she added, “I’m still human. Promise.”
He gave her another one of those smiles, proving she was all too human—and all too female.
Before she made a fool of herself, she handed him the envelope of tablets. “I wrote the dosage down. You have enough for a week.”
“Coke!” Cole shouted.
Abby jumped. Feeling guilty. But guilty of what?
JP dropped the front of his shirt and zipped up the windbreaker again before Cole had a chance to see anything.
When her son stood before him, he let Cole take his hand and lead him toward the back of the barn, through the door, and outside. He paused, his stance wary, and looked around as her child pulled at him. With one last look toward the road, they walked along the edge of the corral, still close enough to the barn to be in the cooling shade, a tall man and a small boy. Cole looked up and said something to JP, who threw back his head and laughed. Then he gingerly lifted her son onto his shoulders.
Abby hugged herself. She hadn’t been interested in any man since Wade’s death. When anyone tried to play matchmaker, she’d used the excuse that it was much too soon. And it was, for her. But Cole needed a father. Her brother represented the only stable male influence in his life, but Steve could never take the place of his father.
No one would.
Cole chose that moment to laugh, his giggle so different from the one he used with her that she wanted to snatch her baby from JP and tell him not to enthrall her son with his masculinity.
As he had her .
The mere thought stopped her cold. She could not open that door. JP was as forbidden a territory as Wade should have been. Worse—once burned, twice shy.
No, not shy. Scared .
She
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