Indiscretion

“Would you like me to call social services for you?” The nurse smiled warmly. “Or the police, perhaps?”

“The police? Why would I want to talk to the police?”

She pointed her eyes to my now-casted hand. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about. My sister was in an abusive relationship for years and hid it from us. It happens to strong people. It’s not a reflection of who you are.”

I held up my arm. “You think I broke my hand fighting my abuser?”

“I saw your boyfriend in the waiting room. He was pacing and looked uncomfortable being here.”

“Well, I’m sure he is since we just met a few hours ago, and it turns out we’re destined to be enemies. But Dawson isn’t my boyfriend, and he definitely didn’t assault me. Actually, it was me who assaulted him. That’s how I broke my knuckles.”

The nurse pursed her lips. Didn’t look like she believed me.

“No, really,” I said. “There was some kind of a mix-up with our Airbnb reservation, and we rented the same cabin. I woke up in the middle of the night to find a half-naked man in my bed, and my first reaction was to throw a punch.”

“Oh my.”

I nodded. “Tell me about it. And it turns out we’re both in town for the same wedding, so I can’t even apologize and pretend it never happened.”

The nurse smiled. “Well, he’s got a pretty good shiner, so you must pack a mean punch.”

It dawned on me that we were going to ruin Lily and Ben’s wedding photos—me with this stupid cast, and Dawson with a black eye. I shook my head. “My friend is going to kill me. She planned this magical fairytale wedding in the middle of the forest, and Dawson and I are going to make it look like the Grimm version instead of the Disney one.”

She laughed. “Well, it could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could’ve punched an ugly man. I’m really glad that guy is not who I suspected he could be, because he’s something else, a real looker.”

She wasn’t wrong. Dawson was ridiculously handsome. I’d been thrown for a loop when I turned the light on. Who the hell notices that their intruder is hot in the middle of an altercation? I really needed to get laid. It had been waayy too long. But damn…I was glad I hadn’t hit him in that chiseled jaw, and at least he had one baby blue left for me to gaze into.

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “I saw all of him, too. He was wearing a towel when I woke up, and my dog ripped it off. I’ll have to remember to give Leonardo an extra treat later.”

The nurse’s eyes sparkled. “And…?”

“He’s the full package.”

The two of us cackled like old friends. It wasn’t very nice of me, considering the man had driven a stranger who punched him forty minutes to an emergency room in the middle of the night, but I needed the laugh.

The nurse handed me a packet of papers stapled at the corner, still smiling. “These are your cast instructions. The most important thing is to wrap it in a plastic bag and keep it dry while showering. Sealing it with a rubber band is the easiest. And don’t stick anything inside the cast, even if you’re itchy, because you can injure yourself. But you’re going to do that anyway, especially since you’ll be wearing this thing during the hottest months of the year, and you’re bound to get sweaty. So try to use a nail file or something without a point, at least.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Follow up with your doctor when you get back to New York. But you’ll likely have the cast on for four to six weeks.”

I frowned. “Great. I’m in the process of looking for a new job. And of course, I’m a righty.”

She nodded. “People tend to punch with their dominant hand. I broke my wrist once, in a car accident. The worst part was trying to hook my bra. You don’t realize how much your hand bends and flexes to get those little hooks linked.” She moved the treatment tray from the bedside and took a step back. “But you’re all done.”

I hopped down. “Thank you for everything. Is there a ladies’ room I can use before I leave? It’s a long drive back to the cabin.” If I was even staying there. I still had no idea what the heck Dawson and I were going to do.

Inside the bathroom, I was horrified when I looked in the mirror. I’d had false eyelashes put on for the first time before I flew out yesterday, thinking they’d look nice for the wedding. But apparently the glue hadn’t worked so well, at least on the right eye. My left, though? That one hadn’t lost a single lash. So it looked as if one eye was twice the size of the other. Not only that, I’d done a face mask before going to bed. The mud had been yellow when I applied it, but it had dried to a greenish-gray color, and apparently, I hadn’t removed it all like I thought I had. My face had two distinct patches of gray, one of which was on my nose and made my left nostril appear lumpy. And then there were the blotches. I had fair skin that told no lies, so whenever I was nervous or upset, I broke out in patches of red.

“Jesus.” I turned on the water and started rubbing the leftover mud mask from my face. “I didn’t have to punch the man. I could’ve scared him off just turning on the light.”

A few minutes later, I walked out to the lobby of the emergency room with the remaining eyelashes removed and the clumpy patches of gray gone. There was nothing I could do about my blotchy skin. Dawson stood when he saw me.

“Damn.” He looked at my arm. “They out of white casts?”

“No, I thought the pink was cute. Color makes me happy.”

“If you say so. I guess your knuckles were broken?”

I nodded. “And you lied to me. It hurt like hell when they put them back into alignment.”

Dawson’s lip twitched. “I figured you were stressed enough. You didn’t need to add anticipating pain that makes you want to throw up to everything else.”

“And why didn’t you tell me what my face looked like?”

Two lines formed between his brows. “What was wrong with your face?”

“Apparently the lashes I had put on came off of one eye while I was sleeping, and some of the mud mask I did last night didn’t wash off.”

Dawson’s eyes roamed my face. “Huh. So your nose isn’t crooked?”

“No! It was the mud. I looked deformed.”

He shrugged. “I thought you were cute anyway.”

I felt an unexpected flutter in my belly, but ignored it. “What are we going to do about the cabin?”

Dawson put his hand on my lower back and urged me to start walking. “Can we talk about it on the drive back? The guy in there on my left is hacking up a lung. I think he has tuberculosis.”

I glanced over at the man coughing. “Tuberculosis? Isn’t that a little over the top? It’s probably just a virus or the flu.”

“The guy’s sweating and thin. I looked up the symptoms. Fever and loss of appetite are common indicators of TB.”

I stopped in place. “Oh my God. I forgot what Lily said when she told me one of Ben’s friends was a defense attorney.”

“What did she say?”

My head bent back in laughter. “That you were smart, super competitive, and handsome, but also a germaphobe. Is that why you showered at two in the morning?”

“I stopped at rest stops. Do you know how much shit grows in those disgusting bathrooms?”

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop laughing—not as we exited the emergency room or as we walked to where Dawson’s car was parked.

He opened the door for me with a frown. “It’s not that funny.”

I spoke through giggles. “I think I’m just sleep deprived. When I’m exhausted, sometimes my emotions are oddly strong. You’re lucky I’m not crying—I might not be able to stop that either.”

He pointed to the car. “Get in or I’m leaving you here, and you can cry all you want.”

I kept laughing all through the seatbelt buckling, which took extra long since I normally did it with my right hand.

“So what are we going to do about the cabin?” I asked when Dawson got in the car.

“I emailed the woman who rented it to us via the Airbnb website, but she hasn’t responded yet. It’s only six thirty here, and her bio said she lives on the West Coast. But in the meantime, I texted Ben. Lily’s staying with her sister until their wedding night. He said I can crash on his couch until then. So we have two nights to figure it out before one of us is out on our ass.”

“I feel bad making you sleep on a couch when we both paid for the cabin.”

“I can always share the bed with you…”

“On second thought, rooming with Ben sounds like fun.”

Dawson chuckled and put the car in drive. “That’s what I thought.”

***

Forty minutes later, we pulled up at the cabin. It was the first time either of us had seen it in the light. “This place is cute during the day.”

“It would be cuter if it was in Barbados and had a pool bar and room service.” He killed the engine, but left the keys in the ignition. “I just need to get my bag.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.”

I walked in first, but Dawson immediately stepped in front of me. “Go back outside,” he said in a low, scary voice.

Peeking around his broad shoulders, I saw what had made Dawson protective. The inside of the house had clothes strewn all over the place, and we hadn’t left it that way. I looked to where Dawson’s full suitcase had been and found it now empty. Leonardo was sound asleep on the couch, on top of a pair of jeans he must’ve dragged up there.

“Did you happen to leave your suitcase open?” I asked.

“Maybe. I had to get clothes out.”

I stepped from behind Dawson and walked over to the couch, wagging my finger. “Leonardo, what did you do?”

My dog lowered his ears, a telltale sign he was guilty—even if the evidence hadn’t been all over the room.

“I’m sorry. Leonardo loves to unpack. Suitcases, boxes, purses—I can’t leave anything lying around or he’ll empty it when I’m gone. Last week, I took him to the park, and he did it to a woman’s purse while I was texting for a minute. She thought someone had robbed her. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when we left.”

Dawson shook his head. “Great.”

“I really apologize. I’ll help you clean it up.”

“I got it.” He bent and started scooping clothes from the floor. “I think you’ve helped me enough already.”

I frowned. “You don’t have to be grumpy about it. Leonardo has separation anxiety. He was probably stressed when we left him in a place he’s not familiar with.”

“Yeah, the dog is stressed,” Dawson grumbled. He finished picking up all his clothes and stuffed them back into his suitcase. Sighing, he looked around. “I think that’s everything. I’ll let you know when I hear from the Airbnb woman.”

“Let me give you my number in case you need to reach me.”

Dawson dug his phone out and handed it to me. I handed it back after I’d punched in my number.

“I guess I’ll see you later, if I don’t hear back from her.”

“Later?” I asked.

“The rehearsal is tonight.”

“Oh. Sure. Of course.” I walked to the door and watched Dawson drag his suitcase to his car. “Thanks again for the ride to the hospital.”

“No problem. Thanks for the black eye.”

I smiled. “Don’t forget the saliva and dog hair on all your clothes. I heard you’re a germaphobe, so you must really love that. Oh, and you probably have TB now, too.”

He opened the car door and held onto the top. “And thank the little shit for helping me with my towel, so I could expose myself to a woman who’d just assaulted me.”

A visual of Dawson standing there, with his eight-pack and big dick dangling to his mid-thigh, even soft, popped into my mind. It stayed there as he pulled out of the driveway and drove down the dirt road. It had been one hell of a bad night, yet a small smile found its way to my lips. I sighed. I’ll definitely be thanking Leonardo.