Completely Smitten by Kristine Grayson Page A

we can get this done, all right?”
    She usually didn’t trust anyone so readily. But he had already seen her unconscious and he hadn’t done anything untoward. He hadn’t even known she had scrapes under her blouse.
    “All right.” She closed her eyes and leaned against the tub, listening to him move in the small enclosed space. The bandages rustled, the wood shifted, and he cursed once, softly. Then she didn’t hear anything at all.
    She didn’t feel anything either. The room was eerily silent. In the distance, she thought she heard violins. How strange was that? Violins in the wilderness?
    Then she felt a pressure on her leg, some pain that magnified and receded before settling down to a dull throb.
    “There,” he said. “You can open your eyes.”
    Her leg was beautifully splinted. His work had been so delicate that she hadn’t even felt his touch.
    “You’ve got a gift,” she said.
    He smiled. “Yes, and I only ply it on female hikers.”
    They stared at each other for another moment, then he eased himself off his knees.
    “I, um, should get you some ice,” he said.
    She nodded.
    “And maybe move you off the bathroom floor.”
    “Find me a cane,” she said, “and I’ll move all by myself.”
    “I think I might be able to do better than that,” he said, and hurried out of the room.
    Again, she saw flashing lights. She pressed the back of her hand to her eyes, wondering what was causing that, and hoping it was nothing too serious.
    He was back a moment later with ice packs and a pair of crutches.
    “Crutches?” she said. “Are you sure you’re not a doctor?”
    He smiled. “I’m sure.”
    “Then why—?”
    “I’m a klutz,” he said.
    But she didn’t believe it. He was too graceful for that.
    He moved like a professional athlete. He was built like one too, all muscle and sinew.
    Maybe that was why she recognized him. Maybe he played for some pro team somewhere and she’d seen him on television. Or maybe she had run with him in the handful of charity races she’d run last year.
    “Let me help you,” he said, bending down to pick her up.
    “No, I’ve got to learn to do this myself.” Without waiting for his response, she levered herself onto the tub. She didn’t want to become too dependent on his help.
    On anyone’s help.
    Other people’s help usually disappeared when she needed it most.
    He handed her the crutches, then put his hand on her back to lever her upward. She didn’t protest this time, but she would in the future. This was something she was going to have to get used to.
    He was still holding the ice. “We forgot this.”
    “I guess I’ll have to find a place to put my feet up,” she said.
    “The couch,” he said. “It has a lot of pillows and it’s close to the kitchen.”
    “All right,” she said. “Lead on, McDuff.”
    “I never was McDuff,” he muttered. “I was always too short.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing,” he said. “Inside joke. I’m probably the only one left who remembers it.”
    She frowned at him, but he didn’t explain. And somehow she knew better than to ask him again.
    Five
    Darius dropped the noodles in the boiling water. The kitchen was still too hot, but he didn’t dare take off his shirt this time. Ariel was seated on his living room sofa, pillows against her back and under her injured leg. He’d wrapped the ice around it to bring down the swelling and found a few Advil to reduce the pain. But he didn’t dare help her any more.
    Too much would be suspicious, especially now that she was awake.
    He had to be careful too. He felt guilty about missing that ankle. He had moved his hands over her legs to heal them, but he knew he had stopped short of the feet. He probably just missed the ankle.
    “This is a nice place,” she said.
    “Thanks.”
    “I read in one of the books about the Wilderness Area that they don’t allow people to live up here.”
    “They grandfathered a lot of us in.”
    “Really?” She frowned at him. “You