“What can I do?” Grace asks, her concern vanishing as she goes into what I can only call fix-it mode.

“Nothing,” I growl. “I’m fine really.”

“Dude, your brain is all scattered. Let the woman help you.” Ian remains calm, though his words come out through clenched teeth. Waving Grace over to the small gate that opens onto the field, he shoots me a shit-eating grin. Always the opportunist, I’ll give him credit for this one.

“He should probably have someone stay with him tonight. Wake him up every hour or so. You know, just in case.” Grace doesn’t know Ian enough to hear the playful joking in his words, but they ring out loud and clear to me. “Now,” he continues, tapping his chin with his pointer finger as if he’s actually trying to think of something, “what would be an effective way to wake him up throughout the night?”

“All right, enough of that, asshole,” I grumble, stifling a laugh.

“Actually,” the medic interrupts. “It might not be a horrible idea to have someone stay with you tonight. Just in case. You were a little disoriented.”

And nauseous, too, but I don’t tell him that. Grace’s face twists in concern when she hears the medic’s advice and it makes me feel guilty for minimizing what could potentially be a dangerous injury. “Okay, I’ll call my parents and stay with them for the night.”

“Unless,” Ian draws out the word, arching a brow at Grace.

“I could stay with you,” her voice quietly cuts through the tension-laden atmosphere of me staring Ian down to make him shut the fuck up. “To take care of you, I mean. Unless—no, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Maybe I can give you a ride to your parents. Oh, wait. Shit. I don’t have a car. I could, uh, maybe . . .” Her face turns pink at her rambling, but it makes me smile like nothing else.

“I’d much rather stay at my own place tonight,” I calm her, dropping a hand to her flailing arms. “Would you be able to stay the night? Just to take care of me, of course.”

Well, if that isn’t the most sexual of innuendos, I don’t know what is. It even causes Ian to look at me, his mouth open in disbelief.

A flash of pain radiates through my leg, echoing the pain in my head. “Oh, fuck,” I curse, running a hand through my hair. The abrupt motion and my hand slapping somewhat hard against my head makes me dizzy all over again. On the edge of losing my balance, I’m thankful that Ian and Grace each fall in step beside me, looping their arms around my waist.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a roommate for the evening,” Grace says, smiling up at me.

With Ian’s help, we make it out to my car after Grace explains to Jade where she’ll be for the night. Jade and Ian exchange a few sarcastic comments at mine and Grace’s expense. It’s as if they’re both cut from the same cloth. Watching them walk away from my car, engaging in God only knows what kind of conversation, I know I’ll get a phone call from Ian in the very near future asking about her deal.

When we’re settled in the car—with her driving, of course—I turn in my seat. “Thank you for doing this, but I really don’t want to put you out.”

“Stop.” Her hand drops to mine on the center console. “You’re clearly hurt. You could barely even walk to the car and don’t even get me started on that head of yours. It’s really the least I could do. Plus,” she pauses, shyness taking over her words, “I thought it would be nice to hang out for a while. Get to know each other a little bit.”

Squeezing her hand in mine, I agree with a broad smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

It doesn’t take long for the stop-and-go traffic of the parking lot to make me feel drowsy. And though I try to fight falling asleep, it’s no use.

When I open my eyes, I’m more than shocked to see my apartment complex standing before us. “What the–”

Grace laughs. “Calm down. I’m not some crazy stalker.” Tipping her head at the GPS in the dashboard, she taps the stop routing button. “Your GPS has a guide me home feature. I figured you would have a shitty night of me waking you up every hour, so a short nap would be fine for now.” Slapping her hand to my good leg, she adds, “Up and at ’em.”

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I move slowly and unbuckle the seat belt. Carefully stretching my leg before putting any weight on it is a completely futile activity because the second I stand next to my car, the shooting pain returns. Grace is at my side in an instant. Even though she’s a decent amount shorter than me, I’m able to lean on her just enough to make the pain far less severe.

“You don’t need people to help you all that often, I see,” she jokes, helping me hobble over to my front door. “It’s a good thing you’re on the first floor.” She hands me my keys and as I open the door, her mouth falls open.

“Yeah, the door is on the ground floor, but I live up there.” Angling my head up the flight of about fifteen steps, I already feel my leg twinging in pain.

“Okay,” she says with determination, her voice strong and competent. “Let’s do this.”

With the banister on one side and Grace on the other, I’m able to balance myself fairly well. The top of the stairs open up into my living room, which is a huge mess of course. “I’m sorry,” I say, a touch winded. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It’s okay.” She helps me over to the couch and props my foot up on the coffee table sitting in front of the couch. “You just sit here and I’ll get you all set up.” She starts looking around the room, but it’s clear she’s not finding whatever it is she’s looking for.

“What do you need?” I ask, stretching out my leg as best I can.

“You don’t own any throw pillows?”

“What the hell is a throw pillow?” Genuinely confused, I have no clue what the hell she’s talking about. Quarter-round molding, tongue-in-groove flooring, and tile spacers, now that’s more up my alley.

“You can’t be serious,” she huffs in disbelief. “It’s a pillow. You can toss it anywhere. Like on your couch. They’re decorative.”

“Well, there’s the issue,” I laugh, waving my hand to the side. “If it’s not functional, I don’t need it.” After rolling her eyes at me—hard, I might add—she stalks off down the only hallway. “Where are you going?” I call out after her. “Hey, that’s my room.” With the whininess of a teenager, I try to stop her from going in there, but since I couldn’t get up right now even if I tried, I keep my ass planted firmly on the couch.

“It’s good to see you have regular pillows,” she jokes, as she tosses one of my bed pillows at me. “Up,” she directs, sliding the other pillow under my foot. “Is it safe to assume you have ice? Seeing as it’s functional and not decorative.”

Laughing, I say, “Yes, wiseass. It’s in the freezer.”

“Oh, not in the oven. How unconventional,” she jokes, pointing a finger in my direction. “Umm,” her voice is slightly muffled what with her head in the freezer and all. “Actually, you’re fresh out.”

“Oh, shit! I forgot. The water line burst and I haven’t had a chance to fix it.”

Watching Grace walk into my living room, a bag of frozen vegetables in each hand, shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t turn me on, but it sure as hell does. “Well, luckily for you, you obviously love frozen peas.” She sits next to my propped-up foot on my coffee table. Looking down at my leg, she pauses for a second. She leans forward and I’m momentarily distracted by her cleavage—it’s impossible not to look at it as she leans forward. When her fingertips slide under the hem of my shorts, I nearly jump out of my seat.

“What are you doing?” My voice sounds like a shrieking banshee. “Your hands are fucking ice cold.”

She apologizes, but doesn’t move her hand from its place under my shorts. Averting her eyes from mine, she says, “I was just pulling these down a little so the ice didn’t burn your skin. I can get a towel though.”

As she moves to stand, I grab her wrist, pulling her back to the coffee table. “Decorative, remember.” We both let the laughter flow, allowing it to ease away the tension.