Selfie(15)

I jerked my face away and started walking toward the underside of the deck. My foot stepped on a large shell and my ankle turned a little. Stumbling, I threw my opposite foot out to catch my balance.

“Ow!” I howled as sharp pain sliced through on the bottom of my foot. I fell backward, the pieces of the broken cup falling into the sand beside me.





Chapter Seven




Braeden

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

I leapt over the railing with ease. The distance down and the uneven sand I would be landing on didn’t even cross my mind.

It didn’t matter.

I landed like a cat, no trouble at all, and the second my feet hit the sand, I moved forward. Ivy was almost beneath the deck, but not quite. Her back was to me and she was sitting up, hunched forward over part of herself.

She was muttering some pretty damn colorful curse words beneath her breath, and my face split into a smile. “Another angry crab attack you?”

She stiffened and looked over her shoulder. Long blond hair cascaded down her back and partially over her shoulder, creating a waterfall around her.

God, she was beautiful.

Wait. No. No, she wasn’t.

I cleared my throat.

“Braeden?” She glanced up, surprised. “Did you jump down here?”

“Well, you screamed like you might be dying,” I quipped.

“Hardly.” She tried to roll her eyes, but it turned into a grimace. “I need a Band-Aid,” she said pathetically.

I bit back a smile and crouched down beside her. “Let me see.”

She leaned back a little so her body wasn’t blocking my view. The movement brought her closer against me, and the scent of cinnamon wrapped around me. My stomach muscles tightened and I jerked slightly. There was no way she could have noticed, but her head tilted back and her eyes found mine.

We stared at each other for the span of a few heartbeats, neither of us moving or saying a word until someone called down from above, wanting to know if we were okay.

I blinked, bringing myself back from the edge—the edge I always seemed perched on around her—and motioned for her to show me what was wrong.

She lifted her foot into her lap, and I looked down.

I heard myself mutter something, but I was back to not thinking again.

She had the cap of a beer bottle sticking out of the bottom of her foot. Blood oozed out around it and dripped into the sand.

I cradled her foot in my hand and gently stroked my thumb along her heel. A shudder moved through her, and I glanced up.

“Hurts, huh?” I murmured.

She blinked. “Uh…” She blinked again. “Yeah.”

Using one hand, I reached around to the base of my neck and pulled my T-shirt up over my head. I didn’t say anything when I reached for her again, and without any warning, I yanked the cap free.

Her breath hissed between her teeth and she smacked my arm.

“Hey!” I snapped.

“That hurt!” she yelled, but it came out more like a whimper.

I tossed the cap over my shoulder and glanced back down. Fresh blood welled. “It’s over now,” I said gently and used my shirt to wrap around her foot.

Once the shirt was in place, I pressed her foot between my hands, applying a little pressure.

Really, I just wasn’t ready to let go.

“Braeden?” Her voice caressed me. Being down here mostly concealed by the deck in the cool sand and low lighting brought back last night. It reminded me of the undeniable electricity between us.

I thought for sure it would be gone.

It was still there.

One of her toes was red and looked scraped, too. I touched a fingertip to it. “You hit your toe, too.”

“That was from last night.”

I smiled. “Ah, yes. The angry crab.”

Our eyes met again. I reached between us, my fingers itching to tuck her hair behind her ear, but I stopped just before I made contact.

What the hell was I doing?

I pulled back and released her foot. “Come on. Let’s get your clumsy ass up the steps so you can clean that up before we gotta leave.”

“I’m not clumsy,” she snapped and pushed to her feet. I started to help her, but she pulled away.

“Thank God for that,” I retorted. “Rimmel is all the clumsy I can handle.”

She made a face and turned away to take a step. But she didn’t make it very far with one foot down for the count.

“C’mon,” I drawled and wound an arm around her waist. She relented some of her weight to me, and we started toward the concrete pad under the house.

“The mug,” she said, whirling to go back.

“Leave it.” I tightened my arm.

“But—”

“But nothing,” I snapped. “That fucking thing is the reason your foot’s all sliced up.”