Chapter Four
Either the door had been left open, or one of the boys had already gotten to it. Roman walked into his home unimpeded and began giving orders. “Colby, there’s a bag of peas in the freezer. Evan, can you grab that pillow, please? Sammy, the first aid kit is under the sink in your bathroom. Can you bring it here?”
All three boys rushed off. Worry was on every one of their faces and they looked relieved to be doing something to help. Evan made it to the couch with a throw pillow that had fallen on the floor and offered it to Roman. “Just put it right there, so your aunt can have something soft under her head, okay?”
Evan nodded and carefully placed the pillow. Rising onto his toes, he peered up at me with watery eyes. “Are you okay, Auntie Greenly? There’s blood on your arms and head.”
“Just scratches,” I said, trying for a reassuring lilt to my voice. The stomach churning thought of having to look at blood made that harder than it should have been. Speaking also made the side of my face ache. How badly had I managed to hurt myself? Was there really blood all over my face? I had to hold back the urge to vomit. The way this day was going, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was covered in it.
Roman nudged Evan out of the way and moved to set me down on the couch. I don’t know why, but I grabbed his arm when I felt my body pull away from his. I must have startled him, because he glanced down at me with a curious look. “Sorry,” I mumbled and withdrew my hand.
An easy smile rolled across his lips, though it didn’t completely erase his worry. “I’m not going to drop you.”
“I know,” I said like it was a crazy thing to suggest. Mostly I was trying to hide my embarrassment at grabbing him. I didn’t even know why I did it. I mean, sure, being in his arms felt amazing—even with a dinged up noggin and myriad of scratches stinging like the Dickens. Not like he could carry me around all night, though.
Smiling again, Roman gently put me down on the couch. His arms withdrew from beneath me, but he squatted down next to the couch and considered me. Knowing I looked like a mess, I cringed under his stare, but had nowhere to hide from it. I froze when his hand came up to hover next to my face. My ability to breathe stalled as his fingers brushed lightly at my temple, pushing my hair back. Frowning, his concern deepened.
“We’re going to need to get that cleaned up. Pretty good gash at your hairline from hitting the bricks.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry about that.”
I scoffed, then winced when it caused a sharp pain to shoot through my head. “Sorry for having bricks in your yard?” Managing a small chuckle at the idea of him apologizing to me for anything, I would have laughed harder if I could. “As usual, this was all me, Roman. Thor’s leash was around my wrist instead of in my hand and I couldn’t stop him from yanking me off my feet.”
Roman shook his head. “Sammy saw you guys coming across the street and I let him run out to meet you. I should have known it might make Thor get over-excited.”
“This was in no way your fau…”
Colby crashing into the couch and nearly launching a bag of peas at my face cut off the rest of what I was going to say. The collision was followed up by Evan wailing that he wanted to be the one to give me the peas. Then Colby jumped back in to argue that Roman had told him to get them. The pain in my head worsened and I had to close my eyes against the brewing fight.
“Boys,” Roman said firmly, “you’re making your aunt’s head hurt worse with your arguing.” They stopped immediately. “It doesn’t matter who brought the peas, okay? I have another job for both of you anyway.”
In the silence, I dared to open one eye. Both boys were standing at rigid attention, waiting for their instructions. They were so cute, I smiled, which hurt my face.
“The pizza guy should be here in a few minutes. Why don’t you wait on the couch and yell for me when you see him. Don’t open the door,” he said sternly, “just holler for me when he gets here.”
“Pizza?” Colby asked. A smile burst onto his face.
Evan stared at Roman in delight. “How did you know?”
Confused, Roman shook his head. “Know what?”
“We were coming over to invite you for dinner. For pizza!” Evan squealed.
Roman couldn’t have looked more surprised. He turned to look at me, a half-smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “You were?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer before Evan piped back up. “Yeah, me and Colby said we didn’t want to be Auntie Greenly’s valentines, ’cause that’s gross, so we said you could be her valentine instead and we could play with Sammy and maybe have a sleepover!”
“I never said anything about a sleepover,” I said quickly. Blood rushed to my face as everything else Evan said slapped me in the face. “I never said anything about needing anyone to be my Valentine, either. I was just teasing the boys. It was their idea to invite you both over. After this afternoon, I doubted you’d care to see me again, but they really wanted to play with Sammy since I’m apparently too boring for them and…”
My brain stopped firing then. Probably because Roman was staring at me, barely containing a laugh…again. Worse than any other time he’d already laughed at me. He couldn’t contain it. He seemed helpless to stop the chuckle that rumbled in his chest and the boys were all too quick to join in with him. I was the only one not laughing. The blotchy blush I was sure to be sporting held any laughter in check.
The hand that had been pushing my hair back so he could inspect my injuries, softened into a touch that stole my ability to think properly. “Before you came up the walk, I’d actually been about to call you to see if you and the boys wanted to join us for pizza.”
I had to swallow a few times before managing to get words past my lips. “Seriously?”
Roman laughed again. “Yes. Why would I lie about that?”
“Why would you want to have us over?”
A curious expression flickered across his face. “Why wouldn’t I?”
While I was trying to come up with a coherent response to that, Sammy came running into the room waving a first aid kit. He proved to be a great distraction for Roman. I breathed a sigh of relief when he turned his attention to his son and accepted the kit.
“Now, can you guys find me a wash rag, get it a little wet, and bring me a hand towel, too? I’ll get Greenly cleaned up while you keep an eye out for the pizza guy.”
All three boys nodded and dashed off to the kitchen. It wasn’t long before Sammy skidded to a halt in front of his dad with a sopping wet rag. Colby and Evan showed up next, each one carrying a dish towel. Roman accepted all three, shaking his head at the water still dripping off the rag. “I said a little wet,” he grumbled under his breath. He set the drippy rag on top of one of the towels and put the pair on the coffee table. The other towel he kept in hand and laid it next to my face.
“All right, boys, go be lookouts. I’ll have Greenly patched up in no time.” That was all the confirmation they needed to know everything was fine, and they raced each other to the living room to keep watch. I could still see all three of them from my place on the couch in the den, but they soon slipped from my main focus as Roman sat on the edge of the couch next to me. Suddenly, the thought of him taking care of me made panic.
“Roman, really, I can wash up in the bathroom. You don’t have to…”
“You’re not getting up off this couch until I say so, got it?” he interrupted. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for a response. I knew he wasn’t going to do anything until I gave it. The panic was still there, but I felt myself nod against my will. Roman gave me a superior grin. “Good.”
Thankfully, he turned away from me to get something out of the first aid kit. I desperately needed a few seconds to calm my weird panic and get my head on straight. How had I ended up lying on Roman Carpenter’s couch? This whole day had been a disaster. I wanted to crawl into the guest bedroom at my sister’s house and forget everything that happened today. Now I w
as trapped here, waiting for pizza, feeling like I had no choice but to stay and let the boys play. How could I refuse after being rescued and bandaged up by my amused knight? Could this day please just end?
Roman turned back around and I nearly gasped in surprise at having to face him again. He held up an antiseptic wipe and said, “This might sting a little.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t respond, except to press my lips together and brace myself. Why shouldn’t Roman also know that I’m a huge baby about blood and all that? He’d witnessed all my other oh-so-wonderful qualities today. Why not this one, too? My eyes snapped closed when the stinky wipe got near my face. I tried to turn away, but Roman’s hand caught my chin and held me in place.
A sharp hiss escaped my control as the astringent seeped into my cuts and scrapes. My fingers quested out for something to grab. I didn’t care what. I just needed to take my mind off what he was doing. It seemed to drag on forever, though I was almost positive it only took a minute or two for Roman to clean away the blood. A new sensation rippled through my body as he blew gently on the cut to lessen the stinging. My fingers relaxed as the pain ebbed, but the realization that Roman’s mouth was inches away from my skin had the exact opposite effect.
Roman grunted for some reason, but I refused to pay attention to him in that moment. I couldn’t. Between the blood and his nearness, I was barely holding it together as it was. His presence seemed to back off and I supposed he must have turned away for a bandage or ointment or something. I took it as a reprieve and breathed in as deeply as I could manage. Too soon, his warmth was right next to me again and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter.
“This won’t hurt,” he said reassuringly. There was no mockery in his voice this time, which was almost worse.
Something cool and wet slid over the aching section of scalp. It didn’t change the pain, necessarily, but it stopped the stinging and let me relax a little. My eyes stayed closed because I knew Roman wasn’t finished. Despite the sincerity in his voice, fear that I would open my eyes and find disgust at my childishness in his expression was worse than the thought of seeing the blood. I laid there without speaking as his calm and practiced hands applied a bandage and smoothed my hair back.
The feel of his fingers in my hair was enough to make me whimper, but a desperate flailing reach for a distraction made me gasp. “Your hat!”
My eyes flew open to find Roman staring at me in surprise. “What?”
“I still had your hat. Where’d it go?” His fingers in my hair had made me realize I wasn’t wearing it anymore and I looked down at my hands to see if I’d somehow managed to hold onto it when I fell. Instead of finding the hat, I found my scraped up right hand on Roman’s thigh, gripping it tightly. My other hand had found the edge of the cushion to hold onto.
I felt like I was choking on my embarrassment now. I wanted to die. Again. For about the hundredth time that day. Slowly pulling my hand back—like that would make it less noticeable somehow—I swallowed hard and scrambled for words.
“Your…your hat. The boys said, uh, it was important, I mean special, or something. Your dad’s?” I sounded like an idiot. I sounded like an idiot. I couldn’t even look at him after that.
Rustling suggested movement, and part of me hoped Roman just got up and walked away at that point. Instead, a warm hand cupped my jaw and turned me to face him. “It’s right here,” Roman said, forcing me to open my eyes and see it held in his hand. “Colby picked it up and brought it inside.”
“We were coming to return it,” I said lamely.
Roman smiled, but there was something I didn’t recognize hiding beneath the expression. “Thanks. I appreciate that. It did belong to my dad before he passed away.”
“Did I mess it up?” I would feel horrible if my stupidity had ruined such a special item.
“No,” Roman said, his expression relaxing, “but you do have a little blood and antiseptic ointment in your hair.
“They’ll keep the gum company,” I said. An attempt at deflecting my anxiety about this situation, it worked well enough to draw a smile from Roman.
He touched my hair again. “That’s right. The gum. Might as well take care of that, too, while I’m at it.”
What? I wanted to shoo him away. I wasn’t fishing for more up close and personal interactions with this guy. I’d very much like the opposite, in fact. “No, no,” I said quickly, “I can handle it.”
Roman eyed me askance. “Really? With scraped up hands?”
My hopes sunk. I’d forgotten about my hands. Before I could say anything else, Roman’s arms were sliding beneath me again and speaking became an utter impossibility. My mind and heart were racing as he carried me into the kitchen. I couldn’t figure out why he was still being so sweet to me. This went way beyond being nice to your friend’s goofball sister because you didn’t want to offend anyone. I’d done everything in the crazy girl’s handbook to scare this guy away, but here we were.
Nudging a bar stool around the kitchen island with his foot, he positioned it in front of the sink. I was finally able to suck in a decent amount of air when he set me down on the stool and turned away. I couldn’t even focus enough to appreciate that the backside of Roman was just as nice to look at as the rest of him. I was too busy trying to come up with a reason to keep him away from me.
Not that I didn’t enjoy him being near me. I did. That was the problem. He was being nice, too nice, because Lydia was my sister and his son was friends with my nephews. I’d done way too many ridiculous things today to ever think he’d actually be interested in me. No guy in his right mind would be interested in me after today. He’d likely only agreed to a blind date in the first place because Lydia was like a dog with a bone. The only possible explanation I could come up with for why Roman had put up with me this long was because I provided comic relief. I, on the other hand, was falling for him fast and hard. I knew I was only setting myself up for heartache and disappointing Lydia yet again, but I hadn’t come up with anything to put some distance between Roman and I before he fished a jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard and turned back to face me.
“This should do it,” he said casually, “but I think I have some petroleum jelly somewhere from the time Sammy got a bead stuck up his nose if it doesn’t.”
Back to business, he unscrewed the lid and took a butter knife from a nearby drawer. A few seconds later he had a blob positioned to slather into my hair. Could this day get any weirder or more uncomfortable? Roman set the jar on the counter and approached me. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he gestured for me to lean forward. I did. I don’t know why I did, but I did.
Cringing as he wiped the peanut butter into my hair, I wanted to bury my head in my hands, but I figured that would only spread the peanut butter even farther. I stewed in my churning embarrassment instead. Roman tossed the knife into the sink and went to work on my hair. He was standing to the side of me so he could reach the gum, but much closer than I would have preferred. He smelled so good.
Roman had apparently been bright enough to come home and shower before even entertaining the idea of having someone over for dinner. I, of course, had not been that smart. I couldn’t even imagine how grimy and gross I must have been, but there was no doubt in my mind I didn’t smell nearly as nice as he did. I had the insane desire to lean my head against his chest and just smell him for the next hour or so.
Trying to minimize how ridiculous I could be, I resisted.
“Okay, I think I got it all out,” Roman said. He reached for the bar stool I was sitting on, his hands gripping the edges and pressing right up against my hips. I jumped at his touch and nearly fell off the stool. Roman’s hands were there to steady me in an instant, his face red and eyes apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, grab at you like that. I was just trying to move the stool out from the sink so I could wash your hair and didn’t think.” He ran a hand through his own hair. He looked way better wearing a blush th
an I did. Which was totally unfair.
“It’s okay,” I managed to squeak. “Just startled me is all.”
Still a few shades darker than usual, Roman reached for the stool again, but gripped the legs right under the seat this time and pushed it away from the sink. He turned away and I didn’t move to watch him.
Not long after, he said, “Okay, go head and lean back. There’s a towel for your head.”
I did glance back, then, because the last thing I wanted was to knock my head on anything else today. A good foot and a half away from the counter, I hesitated leaning back, afraid I’d miss or lean back too fast. I was contemplating how to do this without hurting myself when Roman jumped to my rescue…again. One hand pressed to my lower back and the other rested on the back of my head. Just that sent my pulse skyrocketing. Leaning back into his hands, relying on him to keep me from falling, took it to a whole new level.
My head landed gently on the towel, but Roman was slow to remove his hands. Likely he thought I might fall if left to my own devices, but it was torture to have him inch his hands away from my body like that. If I thought that was bad, having him wash my hair was about a million times worse.
I shivered when the warm water cascaded down my scalp. It felt so good after such a long day and I wished it wasn’t just on my hair. A long, heavy sigh seeped out of me and I heard Roman breathe out as well. He shifted his position. A new warmth pressed against my side as he reached in to wash the peanut butter from my hair. Thinking about the gum and peanut butter should have made the whole thing much less intense. It didn’t. Not when Roman’s fingers started working their way through my hair.
Aside from the salon I went to where the stylists were usually scrubbing rather fiercely at my scalp, I had never had someone else wash my hair before. Surely my mom had at some point, but those memories hadn’t stuck. I knew this one would. To my dying day I would never forget what it felt like to have Roman Carpenter running his hands over my scalp, threading his fingers through my wet hair, slowly like he could have stood there for hours.
I was so content and relaxed by the time the water turned off, a small whimper slipped past my lips before I could think better of it. Roman’s hands froze in the act of wringing out my hair, but only for a second. Another blush crept up my neck. Keep it together, Greenly! He was just washing your hair. Washing peanut butter and gum and blood out of your hair. Not romantic. Not sensual. Not anything more than that.
I had almost convinced myself of that when the sound of something being knocked over made me open my eyes and I locked gazes with Roman. I knew I had to be imagining the way his breathing seemed to be labored, or the widening of his eyes, or the intensity backing his gaze. It had to all be in my head, but for just a moment, it almost seemed…real.
“Pizza!” three hungry little boys all screamed at once. Startled out of my fantasies, I tried to sit up and teetered. Roman’s arms caught me in a split second…and held me. There was a pained expression on his face as he stared down at me. I could feel water from my hair dripping down my back, over his hands and onto the floor, but Roman didn’t seem to notice.
The boys screeched again and he sighed. His hands seemed the tiniest bit unsteady as he handed me a towel and walked away.
The Crazy Girl's Handbook Page 5