See Bride Run! (15 page)

She shrugged and tried to get a good look at her elbow. “What do you think?” she asked him.

“It could have been a lot worse. Let’s take a look at your ankle.” He untied her sneaker and, very gently tried to pull it off.

“Ouch!” Annie jerked her foot away as pain shot through her ankle and radiated up her calf.

“I have to look at it, Annie,” he told her. “Now try to be brave. Remember, you’ll probably bear children one day. You might as well get used to dealing with pain.”

“What do you know about giving birth?” she said derisively.

“Are you kidding? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from friends of mine who were in the delivery room with their wives. Now, try taking a few deep breaths to keep your mind off it.”

“I don’t believe this. I’ve got a sprained ankle, and you’re teaching me Lamaze techniques.” Nevertheless, she groaned and carried on as he gently pulled her sock free.

“Hmm,” Sam said.

“Does he have all his toes and fingers?” Annie asked, noting that, despite the pain, Sam’s hands felt very nice on her.

“Yes, but she’s definitely on the plump side.”

“It’s sprained, isn’t it?” Annie asked, afraid to look.

“Hard to say. Is it normally black-and-blue and puffed up like a blowfish?”

Annie leaned forward once more, trying to take stock of her injury. Her anklebone was now hidden beneath a bulge. “Oh, no! What am I going to do?”

“First we have to treat your wounds,” he said. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“There is one in the hall closet,” Annie said. “Lillian’s friend left a lot of stuff behind.”

Sam returned carrying an oversized first-aid kit plus a box of various other medical supplies. “You lucked out, Annie Fay,” he said. “Lillian’s mother must have worked for the Red Cross.”

“My name is not Annie Fay,” she said.

An easygoing smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but it fits, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not Annie Fay or Annie Mae or Annie Jo. I’m just plain Annie.”

“Nothing plain about you, Miss Annie,” he said, kneeling before her.

“Oh really?” she said, trying to remain casual and indifferent to his comment. Had he just flirted with her or was she imagining it? She struggled with the uncertainty that he’d aroused in her, and when he glanced, she felt impaled by his gaze. They both froze, stunned by conflicting emotions.

A shadow of annoyance passed across Sam’s face, and he looked away. He had no business flirting with Annie because, as the old cliché went, she could be here today and gone tomorrow. Her father might not be the easiest man to get along with, and he had certainly kept his daughter on a short leash, but this was the first time Annie had stood up to him, and she had done so in a big way before disappearing. For all Sam knew, the man could be frantically searching for her. He could have had a change of heart.

The question that kept running through Sam’s mind was whether she would go or stay.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Annie asked, noting the hard look on his face.

“Huh?” He shoved his thoughts aside. “We’re going to have to get you out of those jeans,” he said.

“Is that just a ruse to get me naked?”

“I don’t have to resort to chicanery to convince a woman to take off her clothes. I’ve discovered most are only too happy to oblige.”

“Oh, brother!” Annie laughed. “You have one inflated ego. If you don’t mind, would you please go into the bathroom and grab the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door?”

“What happened to the girl who strutted about in her bikini underwear at Darla’s?” he asked.

Annie waved off the remark. “That was before I knew you,” she said.

Sam just looked at her. “I’m going to need time to wrap my head around that.” He headed toward the bathroom. When he returned he was carrying a chenille bathrobe that had clearly seen better days.

“Please tell me this doesn’t belong to you,” he said.

“I found it in the bedroom closet.”

“Boy, that’s a relief. I felt ice water racing through my loins just looking at it.” He stood there for a moment. “We have to get you out of those jeans,” he said.

“Nice try, Sam.”

“I’m serious. Otherwise, I can’t treat your wound,” he said. “You’re going to have to stand up.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I’ll help you,” he said. “Put your hands on my shoulders, and try to put all your weight on your left foot.”

“Easy for you to say,” she repeated but managed to do as he said. He reached for the fastening on her jeans. “Excuse me,” Annie said, swatting his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m helping you out of your jeans.”

“No thank you.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Turn around, please.”

Sam sighed but did as he was told.

Annie moaned and groaned as she struggled to get the jeans past her hips; no easy task when she could only stand on one foot.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked and glanced over his shoulder. He wished he hadn’t when he noticed her tiny satin boxer shorts. Her thighs were well-toned, creamy smooth, and sexy as hell.

“You’re looking,” Annie said.

“Sorry.” Sam turned his head so that he was facing the opposite direction.

“I’m almost done,” Annie said. She had finally managed to shove the jeans to her feet and slip into the bathrobe. “Okay, you can turn around now,” she said. “I need to sit.”

Sam gently lowered her into the chair and, taking great care, pulled the jeans free.

“I need to clean the scrapes on your knee and elbow,” he said, reaching for the bottle of peroxide he’d found, as well as a bag of cotton balls. He cleaned her injuries as gently as he could. “I’m not sure what this is,” he said, holding up a brown bottle, “but it says it heals and protects.” He applied it to her knee, and Annie gave a light squeal.

“It burns!” she said. “Quick, blow on it,” she said.

Sam did as he was told, but it wasn’t easy while laughing at her antics. “Stop acting like a big baby,” he said, trying to sound stern.

“Why don’t you put it on yourself?” she said.

“I don’t have any wounds.”

“I can do something about that. Get me a knife.”

He pretended to look hurt. “Is that any way to talk to me after all I’ve done to help you,” he said. He looked through the box. “Aha! An ice bag” he said. “It will help get the swelling down.” He stood and made his way to the kitchen.

Annie was beginning to fret on a major scale. Of all times to sprain her ankle, she thought, feeling pretty miserable. It wasn’t just about money; she felt she was letting Darla down, and she had no idea how she was supposed to ride a bike to her classes. She offered Sam a smile when he returned with the full ice pack. He had been so helpful; the last thing she wanted to do was whine.

Sam propped Annie’s foot on a throw pillow from the sofa and placed the ice bag on her ankle.

“That’s cold,” she said.

He nodded. “That’s why they call it an ice bag,” he said, “as opposed to a heating pad.”

“You’re such a comedian.”

““You need to try and stay off your foot,” he said, then made a production of dusting his hands. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do until I receive my medical degree.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sam.”

“Don’t mention it. Just do me a favor. Next time you need groceries, call me; and I’ll either drive you to the store or lend you my Jeep.” He gathered the medical supplies, including the used cotton balls, and carried them down the short hall to her bathroom. When he came back, he found Annie smiling. “What’s so funny?”

“I was going to invite you to have ice cream with me.”

“Sure. You want me—” He stopped abruptly. “Oh, damn, the container is sitting on the backseat in my Jeep, isn’t it?” He hurried out the door to his car and grabbed the bags. He knew which one held the ice cream because it had leaked through the paper sack onto his seat. “Damn,” he muttered, and hurried up the steps. He tossed the ice cream, bag and all, into her freezer, grabbed a wet cloth, and went back down to his Jeep. He cleaned it as best he could and headed upstairs again.

He found Annie hopping toward the kitchen on her left foot. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said, his eyes fastened to her behind.

“Getting our ice cream.”

He followed her into the cozy kitchen and pointed her in the direction of the table and chairs that shared space with the living room. “Sit,” he ordered and went into the living room for the pillow and ice bag. Once he had both in place, he held up one hand. “Stay.”

“What do you think I am,” Annie asked, “an old hound dog?”

“No. A hound dog would have stayed put. I’ll get our ice cream as soon as I put away your refrigerated items. Are you in pain?”

“Yes. I saw a bottle of Motrin in the medicine cabinet,” she replied. “That might help.”

Sam headed to the bathroom. He returned with the Motrin, filled a glass with ice and water and handed both to Annie. “Thank you, Sam,” she said. “I really appreciate your help.”

“You’re welcome.” He put her milk and orange juice in the refrigerator and reached in another bag. “Hmm, I suppose you want these sanitary napkins and feminine deodorant spray in the bathroom.” He shot her a disarming smile that she chose to ignore. “Ah, yes, and here we have pink disposable razors, whitening toothpaste, and mint-flavored mouthwash. Oh, look, acne cream?” He looked at her. “You don’t have acne.”

Her look was deadpan. “That must mean it is working. Why don’t you just stick all my toiletry items in one bag, and I’ll put them away later.”

“You bought a Mickey Mouse toothbrush?” he said in disbelief.

“It was half price. I’m trying to live frugally.”

“That explains this day-old bread. Is it worth eating stale bread just to save a few cents?”

“I’ve eaten day-old bread plenty of times while volunteering at the soup kitchen in downtown Atlanta. I can’t tell the difference.”

“When did you have time to perform volunteer work?” he asked. “From what you’ve told me, your father kept you pretty busy.”

“He made sacrifices because he figured it would make him, as well as the company, look good. I was glad to do it, not only because I enjoy helping people but because it got me out from under his thumb.”

“You’re a nice person, Annie,” he said and reached for the last bag. “Uh-h, this is not good,” he said, pulling out a large bag of potato chips and a bag of mini-candy bars. Do you know how much fat is in this stuff?”

Annie was more than a little peeved. “Do I look like I need to be on a diet?”

He shrugged. “Okay, forget I said anything. You probably have this incredible metabolism that the rest of us lack.”

“I run five miles a day and I only allow myself a certain amount of junk food.”

“Wow, do you have any idea how many calories are in a single serving of potato chips?”

Annie sighed. “Sam, would you just put my refrigerated items away and leave the rest?” she said. “I don’t need a running commentary on everything I bought from the grocery store.”

“Okay, suit yourself,” he said, doing as she asked.

“Now, may I have some ice cream?”

He reached into the freezer and pulled the bag out that held her butter-pecan ice cream. He opened the container. “Uh-oh, we’ll have to drink it. It’s not exactly in solid form.” He grabbed two plastic glasses from the cabinet and filled them with the thick liquid. He carried them to the table, along with spoons and napkins.

Annie looked more than a little surprised. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Bradley and I had an action figure cup just like these. They came from MacDonald’s. I remember getting them like it was yesterday, but I was only three years old. Funny some of the things we remember.” Annie shrugged and began working on her ice cream right away, fishing out chunks of pecans. Sam watched with amusement. He’d barely gotten half of his down by the time Annie finished.

She dropped her spoon into her glass and held her head with both hands. “Oh no, brain freeze!”

“That’s what you get for drinking it so fast, you little piglet.” He shoved his glass aside.

“Aren’t you going to finish that?”

“I’m not big on sweets. My weakness is Patricia’s biscuits.”

“Mind if I have it?”

He set his glass in front of her. “Go for it. Slowly this time, so you don’t give yourself an ice-cream hangover.”

Annie took her time. When she finished she gave a huge sigh.

What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“I had planned to begin the fall semester tomorrow.”

“I can drive you.”

She perked. “Would you?”

“I may even have a pair of crutches in my attic from when I hurt my knee a few years back.”

“Was it a serious injury?” Annie asked.

“Damn right it was. I couldn’t chase women for two whole weeks.”

Annie responded with an eye roll. “Poor baby.”

“I’ll have to adjust the crutches since you’re such a runt.”

“I really appreciate it, Sam. And I won’t forget. In fact, as soon as I can get around a little better, I’m going to cook dinner for you.”

“You know how to cook?”

“I took cooking lessons in finishing school.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly at the top of my class.”

“So where were you, exactly?”

“Well, what is the opposite of top?”

“You were at the bottom of the class? Is that supposed to entice me to come to dinner?”

“I just don’t want you to have high expectations.”

“How is the ankle?”

“It is still throbbing. Hopefully, the Motrin will kick in soon.”

“There weren’t instructions with the ice bag, but I think you’re supposed to leave it on for twenty minutes, then, take it off for twenty minutes. I’ll add more ice to it; you should really try to ice it on and off as long as you can.”

“Yes, Dr. Ballard. It will give me something to look forward to.”

“Why don’t I help you and Mickey Mouse to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth before bed,” he suggested, “and I’ll take care of the ice bag.”

“That would be great.” Annie didn’t put up a fuss as he scooped her up once more, stopping by the counter so she could grab her toothbrush. He set her down before the bathroom sink and hurried into the kitchen to fill the ice bag.