“What’s your point?”
I squirm around some more, trying to force him to put me down, but that just makes him tighten his hold.
“My point is I’m too heavy.”
Again with the incredulous look.
“I’m serious.” I put my hands on his chest and use real effort to push. His arms don’t budge from around me. If I’m being honest, I really don’t want him to put me down. My ankle is full-on throbbing now, and walking on it is going to be a nightmare. But that doesn’t mean I should let him damage himself trying to help me. “Put me down before you hurt yourself.”
“Hurt myself?” The eyebrow arch I spent way too much time thinking about last night is back. “Are you trying to insult me?”
“I’m trying to get you to let go of me. You can’t carry me all the way back to—”
“Grace?” he interrupts.
I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, I answer, “What?” in what could, perhaps, be described as not the nicest tone.
“Shut up.”
Part of me is super insulted at his words, and the matter-of-fact way he says them, but the part of me that’s actually in control of my tongue does exactly what he asks and shuts up. I mean, I suppose there are worse things in the world than being carried by a super-sexy guy instead of struggling along in terrible pain. Maybe.
With me in Jaxon’s arms, we move three times as fast as we were when I was limping with every step. Before I know it, we’re through the castle doors, striding up the stairs.
When we get to our room, Macy unlocks the door and holds the weirdass beads back as she tells Jaxon to, “Go on in.”
Seconds later, he deposits me on my bed and I think that’s going to be the end of it. But then he reaches down and pulls off my boot.
“I can take it from here,” I tell him. “Thanks for your help.”
He shoots me a look that tells me to shut up again, this time without him ever having uttered the words. Which embarasses me so much that I try to pull my foot away from him and start peeling my sock off on my own.
“I sprained my ankle,” I snark. “I’m not dying of consumption.”
“Yeah, well, the night is young.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I glare at him.
“It means you’ve been here three days, and this is the second time I’ve had to get you out of trouble.”
“Seriously? You’re going to hold me responsible for a windstorm now?”
“I am.” He wraps his hand around my calf and gently but firmly eases my leg over the edge of the bed so he can look at my ankle. “You didn’t see Macy falling out of her tree, did you?”
“It wasn’t—” Macy starts, but no way am I going to let him get away with blaming me for this.
“Her branch didn’t break!” I interrupt. “Mine did. What was I supposed to do? Grab on to the trunk and— Oww!” I try to yank my foot away as he probes at a particularly sore spot.
He ignores me, though his touch—already soft—gets even gentler. “There’s no swelling and only a little bruising, so I don’t think you broke anything.”
“I already told you it was just sprained.” I pull my leg away, but with much less force this time. Something about the feel of his hands on my leg, his skin against mine, has me especially unnerved. “You can go now.”
This time, the look he gives me is half amused, half don’t push your luck. And, despite that, also super sexy. Which is completely absurd, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Heather would die if she saw me now—two small steps away from whimpering and sighing over some ridiculously commanding guy. It’s gross, and normally I’d put him in his place. But the fact that he’s all growly like this because he’s worried about me and wanting to make sure I’m okay? I don’t know. Somehow it makes a difference.
“Should I get ice?” Macy asks for the first time since Jaxon overrode her objection. She’s currently standing near her bed, all but wringing her hands and trying not to show how freaked out she is that Jaxon is in our room.
I turn to answer—and hopefully reassure her—but realize she’s talking to Jaxon. You know, the guy she spent ten minutes warning me about before the snowball fight. “Et tu, Brute?” I say with a roll of my eyes.
She shrugs, a little shamefaced, as Jaxon answers, “That’d be great.” Then she all but runs to the door—at least until he smiles his thanks. Then she freezes. Like, actually freezes in the middle of walking, one foot off the floor. “Also,” he adds, “do you happen to have an Ace bandage? I can wrap her foot before I go.”