Chapter Six
Tilly
My ass hurts and I’m pretty sure if I ran to the bathroom and yanked down my jeans, there’d still be a red mark where Tucker’s hand landed on the right side of my butt cheek.
Normally, I’d be repulsed by this type of gross, barbaric behavior, yet right now, I’d love to see the marks he left on my body. I’d love to see them and beg for more.
God, this is supposed to be pretend. I’m not supposed to want him. I’m not supposed to fantasize about him bending me over the desk again to wallop my ass like a heathen. My thighs aren’t supposed to ache at the thought of him spreading me wide and filling me up.
I drag in a deep breath, clutching the bag I packed tight against my chest as we bump over the divots in the dirt road out toward the trail where pine and aspen dot the roadway.
I have no idea how the ambulance is going to get back here.
I’m thinking this is going to be a carry-out job, which could be very stressful for the patient, depending on the extent of their fall.
“After we help this hiker,” Tucker groans, “I need your attitude to change.”
“What?” I gasp and glance toward him like he’s crazy. “My attitude?”
“Yes,” he groans, shifting gears as we bump over another lump in the road. “I’m tired of you playing dumb. We both know why you’re here. How about you just ask me what you want to ask, I’ll tell you what I know, and we’ll both move on?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I chide, thighs clenched together as I lie.
“Right,” he laughs under his breath, “and all that stuff you said about touching yourself at work while you thought of me, I suppose that’s all true too?”
Truth be told, it is. I touched myself last night during my break. It was inappropriate, but I convinced myself that rubbing one out would shut down the thoughts that’ve been taking over my brain. Turns out, I was wrong.
Thankfully, the hiker laying on the ground comes into view before I get a chance to respond to Tucker’s question, and I’m jumping out of the truck immediately, even if it isn’t fully parked yet.
“What are you doing?” he sighs as though he’s displeased with my dismount, but I ignore him and keep my eye on the patient. He’s a bald man in his early fifties wearing jeans and a T-shirt, ink streaking up and down both arms, no wedding ring, no medical alert bracelet, no obvious bruising.
Focus, Tilly. Focus on the patient.
I repeat the mantra in my head half a dozen times, though all I want to do is jump back in the truck and ride out into the field somewhere to let Tucker finish the punishment he started back at the office.
I’m sick. I’m sick and I need help. My best friend is missing and I’m drooling and fantasizing about the man who last saw her alive. I’m pretty sure there’s an extra special therapist for girls like me.
“Hey,” I say, raising my voice at least three octaves, “I’m Tilly, a nurse.” I bend down next to the massive man who’s sprawled out on the ground and blocking the width of the pine swept path. “I’m going to take a look at you, feel around for any pain. Is that okay?”
“Sure is,” the man grins. “It’s been a long while since a woman as pretty as you has touched me. I’ll enjoy every second. For your sake, though, I hope they’re paying you well.”
“How about you shut the fuck up?” Tucker barks, casting a shadow over the scene. “She’s here to help.”
I drag in a deep breath of pine and let it out slowly, forcing my brain to go somewhere other than the way it felt to be bent over in front of Tucker’s giant frame.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the man in need of medical attention, “I didn’t catch your name.”
The man smiles as I begin to palpate his shoulders for pain. “Nick, and I’m sorry if my compliment was out of line. I didn’t mean to upset your boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s not my boyfriend,” I say with a sneer. “That’s my boss, and I like being called pretty. So… thank you.”
I squint up at Tucker as I respond, watching the line in his jaw tick as I speak.
Why do I love this so much?
“Can you tell me how this happened?” I ask, redirecting my focus toward Nick as I feel the rest of his body for any points of pain.
He clears his throat before saying, “Well, it’s embarrassing, but that root back there took me down. Guess I’m not as good on my feet as I used to be.” A low laugh emanates. “I’m getting old.”
“Happens to all of us,” I say, studying his body for any cuts or bruises. “Does it hurt anywhere I’m touching?”
“No. I could probably hobble up and drag myself out of here, but this big guy insisted we call for help.” He nods toward Atlas as he talks.
“Well, that’s a smart move. You could injure your leg much worse if you’re not careful. Which side is it that’s hurting?”
He gestures toward the left, and though his jeans are a little scuffed where he fell, I don’t see any tearing of the denim, which is good, though I will need to cut them to see how intact the skin is beneath the fabric.
Tucker seems to read my mind as I’m working and leans down, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he grips hold of the hem of the man’s jeans and slices up the denim with the leather handled pocketknife I notice hasn’t left his side since we met.
It’s a simple gesture, but my chest tightens, and I’m warm in places that haven’t been warm in years. It’s not that big a deal. He just made a cut in some denim, yet for some reason, right here and now, it’s the biggest deal. He anticipated my needs like he’s paying attention.
“Okay,” I exhale slowly, forcing my attention back to the patient, always keeping one hand on his body for comfort.
It’s something my first-year nursing teacher taught me, and it stuck.
She said one hand supports while the other works.
In practice, the theory doesn’t always function, but the message is clear.
Touch is just as important to healing as the mechanics.
My hand is on Nick’s shoulder as I meet his dark gaze. “I’m going to take a look at your leg now. Please let me know if anything is painful, even a little bit.” I grin. “No tough guy act, okay? I need to know how you’re really feeling before we try and move you.”
“You got it, nurse.” He grins widely. “No tough guy act.”
On immediate inspection, there’s no swelling and I don’t see any bruising, which is positive, though it doesn’t mean the leg isn’t broken. It probably means we’re dealing with a minor injury.
“From what I can see here,” I say, palpating around the knee, “we should be able to get you up into the truck and back up to the front desk. Are you camping out here this weekend? Can we notify anyone to keep you company or come help?”
“Oh, no. Well, yes. I am camping, but I’m camping alone.
I figured I’d try out this trail. Everyone was talking about how gorgeous the colors on the leaves were and how much water was coming over the falls.
” He sighs. “That was a good idea, wasn’t it?
Then again,” he says, gripping hold of Atlas’ arm to stand, “if I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have met you, and you…
are the sweetest nurse they have at that hospital. I guarantee it.”
“Okay.” Tucker groans under his breath as though he’s annoyed as he grips the man’s opposite arm. “Let’s get you back to the camp office. I’m sure the ambulance will be here soon.”
I need to end this. The second I get Nick in an ambulance, I need to be straight and tell Tucker exactly why I’m here. I need to tell him, and I need to get answers because if I end up screwing him in the fit of passion I feel coming, I’ll never forgive myself.
“The road is going to be bumpy,” I say, knocking into the creaking truck door as I wrap up a makeshift splint with a two by four I found in the bed of Tucker’s truck and a blanket that was tossed in the back.
“This should keep your leg still as you make the ride up. It’s not far.
If you feel any pain at all, tell Tucker immediately and we’ll stop the truck. Do you understand?”
“Yes, nurse.” The man rests his hand on top of mine. “I understand. Thank you.”
I nod and turn in time to see Tucker rolling his eyes as he starts the engine, and I’m further convinced now that ending this whole thing immediately is the right thing to do.
My brother is right, I’m in too deep. I’ve played too hard.
I’ve told this very lonely man very sick things, and now he’s bending me over, spanking my ass, and getting jealous of random men that call me pretty.
Clearly, the jeweled bra had too much power.
When we’re at the top of the hill, Tucker slows the truck to a stop and I climb down out the back of the tailgate with Atlas, who’s already bailing for his cabin on the west end of the property.
I get the feeling strong emotions of any kind makes that man very uncomfortable.
Maybe he had something to do with Wren’s disappearance.
I hadn’t considered him until now. Maybe he and Tucker were both involved.
I make a mental note to look Atlas up online, see what I can find out, though Tucker yanking at my patient drives my focus back out of my head again and into the present.
“We’ve got to be careful,” I say, rushing toward Nick to tuck his arm around my shoulder and help him to the side porch under the American flag. “He’s injured.”
Tucker stays by my side, carrying most of the man’s weight, though he doesn’t leave without a smart-ass remark. “Guess I need to put up a notice about tree roots in the woods.”
I glare toward Tucker, then back at Nick who didn’t deserve that.
“I’m so sorry. My boss isn’t used to using his manners.
Can I get you some water or something to eat?
I have muffins inside.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood from whatever this is to anything else.
“I tried passing them off as homemade, but I got them at the bakery.”
“Muffins are gone,” Tucker groans, fiddling with something under the hood of the truck.
“What?” I narrow my gaze. “No, they’re not. I brought six of them. You ate one.”
“They’re gone.” He barely looks up as he speaks. “There are crackers in the cupboard you can give him.”
He’s talking about this man like he’s not sitting right here between us.
“Tucker,” I force a grin, “may I talk to you in the office, please?”
“No,” he nods, head still under the hood of the truck, “you may not. Thank you for asking.”
My chest tightens. What the hell is this guy trying to prove? “Tucker,” I say, trying to force a normal tone, “I really need to talk to you in the office. It’s important.”
Who the hell knows what this poor, hurt hiker is thinking? I’m sure this looks down-right barbaric from the outside. Probably because it is.
Tucker wipes his hand on a rag near the hood of the truck and glares in my direction, his eyes dark as he makes his way toward me.
I should be afraid.
He looks angry.
Why does he look angry?
“You work for me, princess,” he growls, his voice low. “That means I make the rules. Do you remember what happens if you don’t play by the rules?”
A flash of him spanking my ass warms my thoughts, though it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t warm anything. It should scare me away.
Why isn’t it scaring me away? Why are my thighs aching?
Nick is three feet from where I stand as Tucker rests his big, rough hand against my throat.
“Hey, man. Come on,” Nick says, his voice deepening as though he’s going to protect me, but he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, and for some reason, that gets me off.
It gets me off knowing that the man resting his hand on my throat could easily hurt every single person in this campground, including me, and… that’s exactly why I’m in way over my head.