You need to distance yourself.
Right. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t intervene from afar. He got up and prowled into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink of water. The house was freezing cold and had a tired feel to it. The wallpaper came from the seventies and was curling up at the edges.
On a hunch, he opened the pantry. He sighed. Christ, why didn’t she have any food? Sure, could be that she didn’t like cooking and ate out all the time. But somehow, he didn’t think so. There was coffee, some staples like salt and pepper along with a bag of rice and a few cans of food. He opened the fridge. Milk and half a block of cheese and half a dozen eggs.
How the hell was he meant to pull back now? Clearly, she didn’t have anyone to take care of her.
Not your problem.
She helped Eden.
Shit. Shit.
He knew he could tell Clint about all of this and his brother would take care of things. They never left a debt unpaid. But he didn’t want Clint taking care of her. Kent wanted to be the one to do that. Even if he had to be careful not to overstep and lead her on.
He heard the water turn off and left the empty glass in the sink. He’d just sat on the sofa and turned the T.V. on when she walked into the living room. Her chestnut hair was pinned back in that horrid bun once more. She was covered head to foot in a man’s robe. Jealousy struck him and he had to fight it. The robe looked well-worn. Old-boyfriend or current? Wide, hazel eyes stared at him.
“Abby, I never asked if there was someone you wanted to call.”
She frowned slightly. “Call?”
“Like a boyfriend.” The words tasted sour in his mouth.
She blinked a few times. “I don’t have a boyfriend, if I did I...”
“Wouldn’t have accepted a ride home with me?” he guessed.
“Well, yes. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. If you were my girlfriend, I’d expect to be the first person you called when you got into trouble. Of course, if you were my girlfriend, you wouldn’t have been at that bar in the first place.”
Her eyes widened at that. Before she could say anything, though, he nodded at the robe. He could tell she was fading fast. She was exhausted and needed to get to bed. For two hours of sleep. He was seriously not happy about that.
“Lose the robe, baby.”
Her mouth dropped open and she just stared. He stood and moved towards her, reaching slowly for the robe, not wanting to frighten her. He knew he intimidated her and he never wanted her to be afraid of him.
“Abby, I need to check that your injuries aren’t worse than you’re letting on. Then I need to clean those hands. Any other injuries I should know about?”
Her hands closed around his. “It’s really not necessary—”
“I believe we’ve already had this talk, haven’t we?” He made sure his voice was firm. He didn’t intend to argue over anything that had to do with her health. “I don’t want to go through this again. I’m going to make certain you are all right. End of story.”
She frowned at him. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “Most of the time, yep. Occasionally Clint overrules me on things, but not very often. Now, lose the robe and tell me where your first aid kit is.” He’d untied her robe by now and she hadn’t tried to push him away again so he took that as a good sign.
“Umm...well...” She nibbled at her thumbnail. He’d noted before that her fingernails were bitten to the quick.
He gently pulled her thumb free from her mouth. “Baby, spit it out.”
“That’s not really my thing,” she muttered.
He grinned. “I kind of figured that out already. But we don’t have time for you to think about what to say, so just say it.”
“I don’t really have a first aid kit.”
“You got antibiotic and some cotton swabs?”