Chapter 11
Present day
Julia was going to fucking kill him.
It was bad enough that he was even here.
Because if he had never called, if he’d never made the plans to come, if he had never coerced her into shutting down her inn (albeit for a lot of money and significant eventual publicity, which would, perhaps, hopefully, lead to some fame and further fortune), then she would not be where she was at that moment—being carried like an infant after attempting an ill-advised tour of the town that they hadn’t even made it to, getting caught in the worst rainstorm Upstate New York had seen in decades, twisting her goddamn ankle in some gopher ditch, and now having to suffer through the humiliation that she was currently experiencing.
It was mortifying. Degrading. The worst position she had ever found herself in—and there had been a few doozies in her life.
She was hating literally every millisecond of it.
The feeling of his strong arms, tense around her, holding her securely to his chest. Feeling his heart pound with the exertion, his breaths coming out in short pants.
Wondering if she should be offended by how much of a strain this evidently was on him.
She noticed that his breath was visible in the air, even through the rain, which had lessened slightly.
The temperature had dropped in the short time they had been out, likely because the sun had begun to creep closer to the horizon as well, the already-dark skies growing ever darker with the increasing nightfall.
He must be freezing, she thought with a twinge, recognizing she was more protected from the cold with her fleece-lined sweater than he was with his thin cotton dress shirt, which was currently plastered to every line of his body, accentuating the firm muscles underneath.
She commanded herself to stop thinking of his muscles. Instead, she focused on being mad at him for lifting her up without her explicit consent and carrying her to the cottage even though she was a grown woman fully capable—well, somewhat capable, maybe—of getting there herself.
As her ankle throbbed, however, and the rain continued to come down, she found herself questioning how feasible it would have really been.
If it were up to him, he probably wouldn’t have chosen to climb that slippery hill with her dead weight in his arms, either. Especially if his—still semi-insulting—huffing and puffing were any indication.
With a sigh, she leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder. She felt him tense slightly, even as he continued to carry her without breaking his stride.
Before she lost her nerve, she muttered a quick “Thank you.”
His breath caught so briefly, she thought maybe she had imagined it—or again, that it had something to do with the strain of carrying her up that hill—but when he waited a few beats without responding, she began to feel a bit self-conscious.
The vulnerability of her position did not escape her.
Old Ethan would have been making fun of her the entire time he carried her, comparing her to water bottle cases at the grocery store, making cracks about what she would owe him for this monumental task.
Ethan’s silence—his stoic sense of duty guided more by unspoken chivalry than by any obligations of friendship—only made her more aware of their situation.
But then he spoke—“If I had known how awkward and squirmy you’d be, I would have reconsidered”—and she had to turn her face into his chest to hide her smile.
* * *
They made it back up to the house with little incident, barring the possibility of Ethan’s heart potentially pounding out of his chest, if his pulse rate was any indication.
“Okay, let me down now. I can hop the rest of the way if I have to.” Julia wriggled in his arms just enough to encourage him to deposit her on her front porch, which he did as gently as possible despite the way she could feel his arms shaking with adrenaline and hear his breath coming out at the same rapid pace as his heart.
She led with her good foot, keeping the other leg elevated as she hopped to the front door and let them both in.
“Oh, there you are—oh my god!” Maggie ran over to them, wagging her hands in apparent dismay as she took in their appearances—clearly bedraggled and soaked to the skin, with the added flourish of Julia hopping on one leg. “What happened?”
“Twisted my ankle,” Julia said with a grimace, wobbling unsteadily on her good leg. “We ran back after getting caught in the rainstorm, and I got my foot stuck in a hole.”
“Well, come and sit, for Pete’s sake.” Maggie grasped Julia by the arm and carefully led her to the parlor, and Julia gratefully flopped down on the nearest couch.
“We need to get that shoe off and take a look at your ankle before it swells even more,” Ethan said, following closely behind.
Before Julia could respond, he dropped to one knee and began to untie her shoelaces, loosening the top part of her right shoe efficiently while holding her leg steady at the calf.
All she could do was watch, breathing carefully in through her nose and out through her mouth as the pain shot up her body in waves. She gritted her teeth, though, and allowed him his ministrations because he was right—things would get worse, and it was always better to deal with them head-on.
Just a little something she’d learned in life.
Luckily, he was swift and he was careful, and her shoe and sock were off before she could suffer through the process too much. She leaned forward to take a look just as Ethan bit out a curse and Maggie grimaced.
Admittedly, it wasn’t looking great. Her ankle had swelled up to balloon-like proportions and was turning purple in some areas. She attempted to turn her foot slightly and let out a hiss at the pain of even that minor exertion.
“You need a doctor—”
“I can’t go to the doctor—”
Her and Ethan’s words overlapped one another, and he looked at her incredulously. “Are you serious right now? You need to get that looked at.”
“You exaggerate,” she scoffed, trying to look casual as she crossed her legs, avoiding touching anywhere near her extremely swollen ankle. “I’ve had worse,” she added, which was decidedly untrue.
“No, you haven’t,” Ethan said flatly.
“How would you know?” she shot back, a reminder to both of them that for the past eight years she could have broken every bone in her body and he’d have been none the wiser.
The words appeared to shut him down, and she watched as he looked away, jaw tense.
“I need ice,” he spoke finally, directing his words to Maggie instead of Julia.
She was already nodding, ready to help. “Okay, sure. How—?”
“Put some crushed ice in a large ziplock or something that we can wrap around her ankle, and bring me a hand towel or something as well. We need to ice it, then apply pressure and elevate. She has to do those things now, before she’s totally incapacitated this week.”
Ahhh. Yes. Of course. Now his concern made sense.
If she was incapable of walking around, she wouldn’t be able to play host to his Hollywood chess pieces and take them on their grand romantic tours and show them around the estate.
It wouldn’t do to have their proprietor for the week completely out of commission, now, would it?
She rolled her eyes and attempted to sit up, hoisting herself up on one leg again. “Maggie, you don’t worry about any of that, I can handle it. You just go ahead and serve up dinner while Ethan here takes a warm shower and changes. I’ll get the ice—”
“Are you nuts?” Ethan glowered down at her, color heightening in his cheeks in a way that usually indicated his annoyance turning into anger. “You aren’t going anywhere. Sit down and we’ll—”
“Please,” she interrupted him acidly, cutting him off midsentence, “do not presume you can tell me what to do at any point, now or ever.” Her voice dripped with venom, and she could see Maggie regarding her, aghast at this new side of her employer.
The bastard, however, had the audacity to roll his eyes.
“Ice, compression, elevation.” He guided her gently but firmly back to the couch, as if she hadn’t spoken at all and certainly as though her caustic tone had done nothing to him, and forced her to sit. “Put your foot up, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“Wait!” This time something in her tone did give him pause, because he stopped to look at her warily.
“I’ll follow your orders, but please”—this please was much softer, more beguiling—“can I do it in a warm bath? If I have to spend one more minute in these soggy clothes, I think I might actually die.”
Ethan looked at Maggie, sharing a glance with her as though they were co-conspirators.
When she gave him a slight nod, Julia wanted to scream Traitor!
at her. But the truth was, the quicker she acquiesced, the sooner she would be in the bath, and then, hopefully, enjoying a delicious warm meal afterward.
So she kept her mouth shut and waited for her keepers to enact their decision.
“All right, I’ll help her downstairs, you get the ice and towel.”
Maggie nodded and jetted off to do her task.
“You know, I don’t really need— Ethan!” All protests went ignored as she was once again scooped up in Ethan’s arms and carried to her room.
* * *
Letting out a sigh, Julia sank deeper into the warm bath, making sure her foot stayed elevated on the rim, with the ice and towel wrapped securely around it.
After Ethan had deposited her in her room, and then required an obscene number of assurances that she would be fine getting into the tub by herself before he actually left, she had quickly discarded her wet clothing and hobbled to the adjacent en suite.