SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,62
cessation of movement causing Raf to slam into his back. They both stumbled forward.
He turned on his friend, his temper ragged. “Watch where the hell you’re going.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mad,” Raf said, straightening his shirt. “Watch where you’re going with this…thing with Harper.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered.
“Look at how you’re acting, Mad. Nuts, just because the girl gave you the slip. Don’t you see—”
“It’s too late,” he shouted at Raf. He shoved both hands through his hair now, frustrated that she remained out of sight and pole-axed by the truth. Talk about a nightmare. He lowered his voice five notches. “I’ve gone ahead and done it, damn you. I’m in love with her.”
“Shit.” His friend fell back a step. Then his gaze shifted over Mad’s shoulder. “Shit.”
“What?” Mad spun and took in the figure limping in their direction. He squinted. Then sprinted. “Harp!”
She waved off his concern even before he made it to her side. “I’m fine,” she said. “Took a little tumble.”
“And then got run over by a truck?” Dirt clung to her hair and clothes and there was blood oozing from a scrape on her forehead. Raw skin made a shiny wet trail from one nostril up toward the bridge of her nose. A painful looking patch of road rash bloomed on her jaw.
“It was a Radio Flyer wagon.” She gestured again. “And I tripped over it.”
He grabbed her wrist and turned her arm to see another angry scrape on her elbow. There was more road rash on one knee. He could feel her trembling.
Raf showed up with a bottle of water and he unscrewed the top. “Here,” he said, holding it toward Harper. “Drink some of this.”
Instead, she pushed it back toward him. “Would you pour that over the wounds on my face? I want to get the dirt out ASAP.”
“I can do it,” Mad said, mildly annoyed. Raf was a roofer, for God’s sake. Mad had first aid courses under his belt.
“I’ll need you to hold me up,” she announced, then promptly sagged against him.
“Christ.” He caught her in his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder, then carried her to a nearby bench. Adrenaline surged in his system, making him feel hyperaware and overprotective. As he sat down, his gaze searched the surrounding shoppers, looking for an unspecified threat. What the hell had happened?
Raf came close and he fought a growl rising up his throat. The man came with that bottle of water. He shifted Harper in his arms, her head on his lap, her legs stretched out. “Can you find something to get her feet higher than her heart?”
Raf yanked off his hoodie and made a ball of it that he shoved beneath her sandals.
Harper’s eyelashes didn’t flutter. “Baby,” he said, stroking her uninjured cheek, his pulse shooting around like a pinball. “Wake up.”
“I’ll try to clean her up a little.” Raf dribbled the water onto her forehead, her nose, and then her jaw.
Harper pulled in a sharp breath. Her eyes half-opened. “Mad?”
“Right here, baby,” he said. “Don’t move. Just relax.”
Harp, being Harp, immediately struggled to sit. “What—oh.”
“You fainted. A little physical trauma combined with getting up too fast after falling, I’m guessing.” He tucked her close to him.
She leaned into his side.
“Water,” he said, holding his hand out to Raf.
The other man passed the bottle and he pressed it to Harper’s lips. She drank a little, then took the water from him and drank more greedily.
“Better?” he asked, when she dropped the empty plastic to her lap.
“Better.”
Raf hovered, looking almost as concerned as Mad felt. “I can go to the drugstore and get something for her. Hydrogen peroxide?”
“No,” they said together.
Mad looked to his friend. “Once I told her that stuff wouldn’t hurt and she let me douse a cut on her hand. When the sting kicked in, she kicked me.”
Raf snickered. “You guys got this covered then?” He squatted to look Harper in the eye. “You need anything else?”
She smiled, and its sweetness juxtaposed with her now-battered face broke Mad’s heart. “You’re a good man, Raf. I’m fine now. Mad will take excellent care of me.”
Raf met his gaze. “I’m sure of that. But make it mutual, okay?”
Her smile died. “What?”
“Raf’s gotta go,” Mad said, his tone firm. “And we do too, if you’re up to leaving this bench, Harp. I want to get you home.”
“We need to do that.” Harper dropped her head to his shoulder. “Thanks.”