Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
ASHLEY
“C’mon, Carter! Go! You’ve got this!” I clap and jump up and down.
If he ever heard me cheering this loudly for him, I would certainly deny it, but as soon as the race started, I couldn’t help but root for him. I tell myself it’s only because I want Nick to win that money, but I’m pretty sure I’m lying to myself.
Carter starts the race strong, neck and neck with another racer for the lead, but as the race continues, Sparkles falls behind. Carter pulls on the rope attached to the reindeer’s harness, and Sparkles picks up the pace, growing closer to the lead racer.
Then Carter wobbles. He brings his torso up to find his balance, then his legs twist and both skis pop off his boots. He goes from riding to being dragged behind the reindeer.
I gasp as another reindeer almost stomps on Carter, flying by them.
The other racer misses him, but it’s too late.
Carter is first on his back, then on his front, his white beard yanked away by the friction of the snow.
He’s dragged another five feet until he finally releases the reins, and Sparkles gallops on without him.
I run toward Carter lying unmoving in the middle of the road, face in the snow. By the time I reach him, several other people have gathered around.
“Excuse me. Excuse me,” I say, pushing through. “Carter, are you okay?” I drop to my knees beside him, unsure whether I should roll him over.
He lets out a groan and rolls onto his back. “That didn’t go as planned.”
Despite what just happened, he’s smiling. I don’t know him all that well, but from what my sister said and how he seems, it feels like that’s so Carter.
Then I notice the cut and road rash at the corner of his right jaw. He must’ve turned his head to the side when he flopped onto his front.
“You’re hurt.” I reach out with my mittened hand then pull it back, not wanting to hurt him.
He works his jaw and suppresses a cringe, moving himself up.
Cheers ring out farther up the road, and we watch as a sea of people gather around the winner of the race. The people who had been surrounding us trickle away to join the celebration, knowing Carter is essentially okay.
“Damn. I feel bad I didn’t win that money for Nick.” He’s frowning, watching the celebration ensue with his legs pulled up and his arms wrapped around them.
“You shouldn’t feel bad. Most people wouldn’t have even offered to try.”
He turns to me, and his eyes are soft and happy. “Careful, Ashley. If you keep talking like that, I’m going to assume you don’t think I’m a total douchebag anymore.”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks heat. Hopefully my blush is masked by the wind chill, which is already making my cheeks cold. “C’mon. I’ll patch you up back at my place.”
As soon as we arrive home, Carter insists on telling Nick the bad news before he’ll let me see to his injury. I ask him to meet me in my en suite, where I keep all my first aid stuff.
I’ve got everything on the bathroom counter, and I’m just finishing washing my hands when Carter walks in.
“How did Nick take the news?” I ask.
“Fine, actually. Said he appreciated me giving it a go.”
“You sound surprised.”
He shrugs. “I figured he’d be disappointed. He could just be high on painkillers, or he felt bad when he saw my injury, and that’s why he doesn’t care.”
“Would you stop? You did your best.”
His usual stupid cocky grin spreads across his face. “That’s two.” He puts up his fingers. “There you go, giving me another compliment.”
I nod toward the vanity. “Just get up on the counter so I can fix you up. You’re too tall for me to do it with you standing.”
He puffs his chest out a bit. “Three.” He puts up three fingers. “You’re on a roll now.”
“Carter…”
He holds both hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay.” He hops up on the counter, still in the Santa suit minus the beard and the hat.
The suit has seen better days after being dragged through the snow, but I don’t see any rips or tears. I’ll make sure to wash it for Nick.
I soak a cotton pad in hydrogen peroxide, moving in front of him. His legs part, and I slide in between. It’s oddly intimate, being this close to him again.
“This might sting a little.” When I gently dab at his wound, he hisses through his teeth, so I pull back. “Sorry, did I press too hard?”
He shakes his head. “Believe me, my pride is more wounded than my chin. Just caught me off guard.”
“I literally told you it was going to sting.”
“If I told you I was going to punch you in the gut, then did it, you’d still react to the pain.” His blue eyes hold my gaze.
“Fair enough,” I grumble, then get back to cleaning the wound.
He sucks in a breath, and his jaw tightens every time I press the cotton pad down, but he never draws back. He watches me tend to him, and I push away the feeling of being the center of his attention.
Remember how horrible he made you feel.
That thought should help me ignore the tug I feel toward him, but it doesn’t.
I clear my throat and toss the cotton pad in the garbage. “I’m going to put some ointment on it now that will help it heal and prevent infection, then I’ll dress it.” Hopefully, Carter doesn’t notice my voice quivering.
“All right.”
This might be the quietest I’ve ever seen Carter. After I grab the ointment, I lightly press some on the wound. It’s not terrible and should only take a week or two to heal if he takes care of it properly.
He continues to fix his gaze on me, and finally, it’s time to put on the bandage. It’s going to be tricky, given that he has facial hair, and I’m assuming it won’t be pleasant to take off when he needs to redress it, but it is what it is.
“You should only have to wear this for a couple of days until it starts to heal over, then you can take it off.” I lean in and press the large bandage gently around the edges, making sure the wound is covered.
His breath on my face causes me to notice how close we are now. I glance up, meeting his cerulean gaze. Our eyes lock and hold, the space between us pulling tight with tension.
Thank God for his fake belly between us, or I’d be tempted to break all distance between his legs. We breathe each other’s air for only a moment before I step back.
Carter’s hand wraps around my wrist. “Thank you.”
He’s looking at me as he did the night of our date, before all the shit about Steph and how we look identical.
Earlier in the day, when he looked at me as though he was interested, I desperately wanted to explore this thing again, but he’s already fooled me once.
If I let him do it again, he’ll make me the fool.
So I step back, and Carter’s hand falls off my wrist. “No problem. I have to get downstairs to prep dinner, so I’ll see you later.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I bolt from the bathroom, not even bothering to clean up the supplies strewn across the counter because there’s no way I’m falling for Carter Russell’s games again.