Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Eloise
Twenty minutes later, I exit the bathroom wrapped in a pink robe with my hair piled high on top of my head in a messy bun.
I scrambled to find something to pin it up. I had to settle for two silver hairpins with crystal roses on the end of them. They must have belonged to Astrid’s mom. My Aunt Becky had an eclectic taste. Many of her belongings are still here, peppered in with the items I brought with me.
Astrid promises she’ll clean it all out one day, but I’m grateful for the rare finds I stumble across. It makes me feel like my Aunt’s memory will always live on.
Dr. Morgan is right where he promised he’d be. He’s resting his back against the wall next to my bedroom door, across from the bathroom.
“I was prepared to break down the door if I heard a bang.”
I can’t hold in a smile. “You thought I was going to pass out?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a woman was running in Manhattan in what – two or three inch heels - and she fell and hit her head.”
“Four inches. Those shoes have a four inch heel,” I correct him, tugging on the sash of the robe.
This robe was my very first purchase after I started the job at Vinyl Crush.
I saw it in a store window in midtown, so as soon as my paycheck landed in my bank account, I rushed to the store and snatched up the last robe they had.
It’s a size too big, but it’s always been like a security blanket to me.
It’s got me through some cold nights and a few broken hearts.
“I’m still not convinced you didn’t hit your head.” He steps closer to me. “I need to check your pupils.”
I widen my eyes. “Check away.”
He chuckles. “It’s not that simple. Step backward into the light.”
I do. He’s right in step, nearing me with each step forward. When we reach our destination, his hand leaps to my chin to tilt my head up.
I follow his instructions and open and close my eyes a few times before he exhales sharply. “Any sign of a headache, Eloise.”
“No, Dr. Morgan.”
“Gaines,” he reminds me. “I’ve asked you to call me Gaines.”
“Gaines,” I repeat, even though it doesn’t flow off my tongue the way Garin or sir does when I’m in his presence.
His fingers trail over my chin toward my neck. “Any pain here.”
I shake my head. “Not there.”
Without any warning, his hand drops to his side. “Back to the other room. I want to take a closer look at your wounds.”
Since I’m naked under this robe, I’m hopeful he’ll want to take a closer look at more than my wounds.
He waits for me to lead the way, so I do.
I swear I can feel his gaze burning through the back of my robe. I glance over my shoulder to catch him watching the sway of my ass.
“Where do you want me?” I ask as soon as we’re close to the couch.
His lips curve into a small smile. “You take the couch. I’ll have a seat on the coffee table.”
“All right,” I agree. “Do you want something to drink before we start? I have beer or water. I think I have a can of soda in my fridge, too.”
“Beer.” He motions to the couch. “You sit. I’ll get one for each of us.”
I don’t bother telling him that I can’t stand the taste of beer because I sense if I refuse, he’ll skip it, too, and he looks like he could use one.
He returns less than a minute later with one open beer bottle in his hand. “Let’s share.”
I may need to give beer another chance.
I take the offered bottle and down the smallest sip before I hand it back to him. He wraps his lips around it and gulps a mouthful before placing the bottle on the coffee table.
“Take a seat, Eloise.”
I do just that in the center of the couch. He settles on the coffee table directly across from me.
“Lean forward.”
I do as requested, holding my breath as he studies the small cut on my forehead. After I washed the blood off my face, I could tell the wound was small.
“This looks fine,” he comments in a whisper. “I’ll still bandage it for good measure.”
He does that with effortless ease. Choosing a small bandage before ripping it from the package and applying it to my forehead with tenderness. He immediately follows that with a brush of his fingertips over my cheek.
“Your knee is next.”
I offer my foot to him, and he smiles, placing it on his right thigh.
Since my robe is so large, everything that is supposed to be covered still is.
He touches the area around the scrape on my knee before he leans closer to get a better look. I feel his breath rush over the skin of my leg.
“This is fine,” he finally says. “I’d recommend letting it breathe. You won’t feel it in a day or two.”
“All right,” I whisper. “All that’s left is my elbow.”
I go to push the fabric of my robe up my arm to reveal my elbow, but his focus is still on my leg.
“Lamb.”
The word, spoken in a hushed tone, feels weighted with so much need that it’s palpable.
“Yes?” I somehow manage to get that out.
“I need…” His voice trails as he reaches for the beer to take another pull from the bottle. “I need to think.”
“Why?” I ask.
His gaze catches mine. His eyes have darkened. There’s a dangerous promise there. It’s waiting to be unleashed. “Why do I need to think?”
“Yes,” I answer, leaning forward to brush one of my hands against his. “Why think when you can just feel?”