Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,17

steps. By the time he returned to the truck, she'd pushed the door open as far as she could and was struggling to exit. "Hold up, let me help you."

"I've got it," she protested, refusing to look at him.

"Quit being so damned stubborn and let me help you," he growled, blocking her exit. "You'll break an ankle if you jump."

She glared.

He arched a brow and glared back as he reached for her ankle. If she insisted on jumping, she'd have a better shot of not hurting herself if she did it barefoot. He slipped off the broken shoe first. "What in the hell?" he muttered as she flinched. "Jeezus, woman, how far did you walk in these?" Her feet were a bloody mess. By his count there were at least three broken blisters across the top, and when he pulled back her foot to examine the bottom, another enormous one between her big and second toe. Probably one on her heel, too, judging by the grimace on her face. He slipped off the other shoe, and winced at the sight of it. "Don't move," he ordered. He jogged back to the suitcase and dropped the pair. He'd take care of all that once she was safely settled inside. Back at the truck, he hauled her into his arms and stalked across the short drive. "You have a key?"

"It should be unlocked," she mumbled, cheeks flaming.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Doesn't anyone lock their doors here?" His Malibu house had three locks, a gate, and a security system. He pushed open the front door and stepped inside. "Where do you keep the first aid?"

She squirmed. "Look, I appreciate the whole knight in shining armor thing, but I can take it from here."

"Right," he snapped. "Clearly you've done a great job of it."

"I did what I had to do," she retorted, eyes snapping.

"Out of some sense of pride? A normal person would have asked for help. Weston offered to give you a ride. I offered to give you a ride," he gritted, deciding the kitchen counter was his best bet and rightly guessing it was down the short hall.

"No you didn't. Weston offered for you," she corrected.

"Do you always hide behind your prickles when people offer to help you?" He placed her on the counter next to the sink. "You might be able to fool some people with that, but not me. And since I'm already going to have Sterling and Travis all over my ass for being so damn late, I'm sure as hell not leaving until these blisters have been cleaned."

Seeing her like this brought up too many uncomfortable memories - the bravado that became part of who he was because as a scared fifteen-year-old, it was all he had. And looking at her feet? He shuddered. Maybe it was the surfer in him - more likely it was that he remembered too keenly the infected feet of the homeless men he'd encountered as a teenager sleeping under the pier. Injured feet got bad in a hurry if left untended.

Her eyes lit in challenge. "Fine. I wouldn't want to make you any later," she sassed, picking up her feet and dropping them into the sink.

Trace didn't miss her quick hiss as the water from the faucet hit her feet. This was not the way to tend to blisters. "Dammit, CiCi." His pulse pounded in his ears. He rarely lost his cool, but he was a second from blowing his stack. "Stop pushing back and let me help you."

"Cecilia."

"What?"

"My name's Cecilia," she huffed, reaching for the dish soap.

He braced his hands on the edge of the counter, chest heating from the pure frustration of her. "Do you have to be so stubborn, Cecilia?" he said with a clenched jaw.

She looked up and met his gaze, a fierce fire in her eyes. "Yes," she answered low and rough.

The absurdity of it hit him. She was like an injured stray - hissing and scratching, preferring to lick her wounds in solitude rather than trust another soul. A harsh laugh exploded from his belly. "You're batshit crazy, you know that?" Another laugh followed, and a third. "And you know what? This whole biting the hand that feeds you act doesn't fool me for a second." He leaned forward boxing her in - half-pissed, half-amused, and a whole helluva lot of frustrated and aroused. She sucked in a breath, looking ready to unleash another tirade, but he placed a finger over her lips, ignoring