Flawed Beauty by LR Potter

to help her pick up the money. She took a deep
breath as her anger quickly deserted her, leaving her feeling exhausted and
vulnerable.
    “Don’t worry about it, Jace . I got this. I’m fine, you can go. Thanks for your help,”
she said woodenly.
    Turning his head to glance over at
her, he said, “Don’t be silly. I’m not leaving you out here alone. Come on.
I’ll help you gather what we can then I’ll walk you to your door.”
    As Tate lowered her body down onto
her haunches to continue gathering up money, the quick descent caused her
stomach to roil nearly uncontrollably at the motion. Rising, she stumbled over
to the trashcan near the exit of the bar, lifted the lid, and began to heave.
She was startled when she felt cool hands pulling the hair that’d escaped her
elastic hairband away from her face. Her face flamed
in embarrassment.
    Without lifting her face, she
mumbled, “ Jace , please leave. I’m fine.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. Tate, I’m
a doctor. Trust me when I say, you are not fine. You’ve received blows
to your head and now you’re throwing up. In my profession, we call this not being
fine – in fact, it’s the exact opposite. You need to be lying down. Come on.
We’ve gotten all the money I can see. I’ll help you upstairs.”
    She lifted a hand and wiped the back
of her trembling fingers against her lips. She almost declined his offer, but
truth be told, her limbs were trembling so badly – probably from delayed shock
– she didn’t know if she could make it upstairs without his help. With a slight
nod of her head, she allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist and walk her
up what felt like a thousand steps to her apartment. She reached down to her
apron to get her keys, when she remembered she wasn’t wearing it.
    Heaving an exhausted sigh, she
lifted her eyes up into the questioning eyes of Jace Staton’s .
    “My keys are in my apron, down
there,” she huffed.
    Comprehension dawned. “You stay here
and I’ll go back down, okay?”
    “Yes, thanks.”
    Jace raced back down the stairs and
searched around until he located her black apron. As he made his way back, Tate
glanced down at her shirt and was surprised to see red splattered on it.
Raising a hand to her forehead, she felt the sticky substance on her fingertips
as well as the huge knot there. She winced at the pain. As she glanced at the
blood on her fingers, she once more felt her stomach clench. She raised her
non-bloody hand to her mouth and swallowed repeatedly to keep everything left
in her stomach down. She hated the sight of blood; especially her own. She felt
dizziness wash over her, and slowly, she slid down with her back against the
door until she was sitting. She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around
them, and leaned her forehead on her knees.
    She heard Jace above her head unlocking the door, but didn’t lift her head until he knelt down
in front of her and helped her to her feet. She felt beads of sweat pop up on
her forehead as she stood and once again tried to stop the roiling of her stomach. Jace opened the door to her small apartment and
ushered her in while keeping his hand firmly on her arm. He felt around the
wall for the light switch and illuminated their path. He walked them through
her compact kitchen into her even more compact living room. He sat her down in
an old, box-shaped chair, covered in cracked brown leather.
    Kneeling once more in front of her,
he leaned over and snapped on the table-side lamp. With his cool fingers, he
gently probed the knot on her forehead. She winced at his touch but said
nothing. Instead, she concentrated on his scent; it was composed of male sweat,
his own personal musk, and a tiny whiff of some slightly spicy cologne.
Overall, it was a very tempting smell. She inhaled deeply, hoping to store the
smell into the olfactory cells in her brain.
    Placing his pointer finger in front
of her eyes, he said softly, “Follow my finger with your eyes.”
    “I’m