A Classic Case (The Busybodies collection) by Alicia Thompson

Author:Alicia Thompson [Thompson, Alicia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Original Stories
Published: 2024-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

This really isn’t necessary,” Audrey said for what felt like the hundredth time, but Grant had already grabbed a first aid kit out of Mr. Hoffman’s linen closet, gesturing for Audrey to take a seat at the kitchen table.

“It’ll get infected,” he said roughly. “Just sit down.”

It did hurt. It had since the moment she came through that window. And she’d taken a quick look at herself in the bathroom mirror while Grant had been gathering the first aid items, had seen the drops of blood on the tile floor, and could attest that it didn’t look great. The latch on the window had snagged her skin between her shoulder blades and then dragged halfway down her back, leaving a long, jagged cut down her spine. It had torn her favorite shirt, too, which was how Grant must’ve spotted the injury in the first place.

Grant sat in one of the other chairs, pulling it closer so that his leg was alongside hers, his knee briefly bumping her thigh as he settled in behind her.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I’m going to have to—”

She knew what he was saying. He’d have to go up under her shirt, in order to clean the cut and apply the antibacterial ointment. Audrey couldn’t remember the last time a man had seen her that way, had touched her that way, but she supposed it was probably at her annual physical when the doctor had pressed a cold stethoscope in the gap between her hospital gown. This was just like that, she reasoned. There was no need to get all pearl-clutchy about it. She could be cool.

In fact, he’d have much better access to her back if she just took her shirt all the way off, so before she could think about it, she reached down for the hem and pulled it over her head. There. Totally cool!

“Does that help?” she asked.

Next to her, she saw him press the heel of his hand against his jeans and rub it down his thigh. “That works,” he said, a slight rasp in his voice. “This might hurt a bit.”

The first touch of his fingers was gentle, but then it stung when he started dabbing at the wound with the gauze pad he’d soaked with a saline solution. She drew a sharp intake of breath and let it out in a hiss, and he paused, bracing one hand against her rib cage. Capable hands.

“Sorry,” he said again. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, and she hoped he attributed the choked sound in her voice to pain and not to the sudden desire she felt break over her like a fever. She needed a distraction. There was some mail on the table, lying half on top of a thin black case with a blue sticker she recognized from how many she’d gotten herself over the past year. She reached over to uncover the movie from under the envelopes and slide it toward her.

She Who Laughs Last. Starring Katia Kelly, who had a

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