“You aren’t wearing a bra,” he said, instead of responding to what she’d said—or maybe that was his response, as if the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra was excuse enough for the fact that he was wiggling his toes, just a little.
“It got wet when I was dragging you out of the plane, through the snow, so I took it off.” She kept her tone severe.
He got the inference that she was braless only because of what she had done to rescue him, and he winced a little. “Okay, okay. But, damn, bare tits. You can’t blame me.”
“Want to bet?” It occurred to her that the icy, unfriendly Captain Justice wouldn’t normally be talking this way to her, that he almost certainly had a concussion and was woozy and in pain. She couldn’t see him being roguish and plainspoken, but from the moment he’d regained consciousness his language had been as informal as if he were talking to another man. It said something, she thought, that a concussion had improved his personality. “And I don’t like the word ‘tits.’”
“Boobs, then. Is that better?”
“What’s wrong with ‘breasts’?”
“Not a damn thing, as far as I can tell.” His toes wiggled again.
She swatted his leg again. “Be still, or you can get your own feet warm.”
“I don’t have any boobs to tuck them against, and even if I did I wouldn’t be able to get my feet up to my chest. I’m not into yoga.”
He was definitely feeling better, and was more awake; he was speaking in sentences instead of one- or two-word answers. Chocolate had to be a miracle drug.
“Well, tell you what: get some breast implants, take up yoga, and you’ll be set for life.” Judging that he’d had enough fun, she removed his feet from under her shirts, tugged his clean pair of socks on him, and tucked the layers of clothing around him again. “Fun’s over. Is your forehead frozen yet?”
“Feels like it.”
“Let me finish reading the instructions, and we’ll get this over with.” She picked up the booklet again. “By the way, since we don’t have any water to flush out the wound, I’m going to use mouthwash. It might sting.”
“Great.” A world of irony was in the single word.
Bailey hid a smile as she read. “Okay…yada yada…I got that part. ‘Grasp the needle with pliers so the point curves upward.’” She looked at the curved suture needle, then the rest of the contents from the first-aid kit. No pliers were included. “That’s great,” she said sarcastically. “I need pliers. Normally I have a pair in my makeup bag, but, gee, it never occurred to me I’d need them on vacation.”
“There’s a small toolbox in the plane.”
“Where?”
“Secured in the baggage compartment.”
“I didn’t see it when I was getting the bags out,” she said, but got to her feet to recheck. “How big is it?”
“About half the size of a briefcase. It’s just a few basic tools: hammer, pliers, a couple of wrenches, and screwdrivers.”
Feeling as if she’d been in and out of the wreckage so often she was wearing a groove in the earth, Bailey maneuvered her way back into the plane, clambered into the passenger seat, and looked over the back into the baggage compartment. The floor of the plane was buckled from the impact so everything back there had been tossed around, but the cargo net had been in place to keep anything from flying out the way her tote bag had. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him nothing was there, he said, “It should be in brackets against the back wall, just inside the baggage compartment door. See it?”
She looked where he’d said and there it was, safely secured. Duh. She’d been looking on the floor of the plane, not on the walls. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” Toolbox in hand, she backed out of the plane.
She felt a little light-headed when she stood, so she remained still for a moment. Was it altitude sickness again, even though she’d been careful to move slowly? Or did she need some of that candy bar? After a moment the dizziness passed, so she voted for the candy bar.
“I think I need to eat, too,” she said, going to her knees beside him and breaking off a bite of the Snickers bar. “I don’t want to pass out while I’m jabbing a needle into you.” At this rate, she’d be doing good to have him stitched up by sunset.
Thinking of sunset reminded her of time, and she realized that not once had she checked her watch. She had no idea how long ago she had regained consciousness, or how long it had so far taken her to accomplish her tasks, much less how much time she had left in the day. Automatically she pushed up the cuffs on her left arm, and stared at her bare wrist where her watch had once been.
“My watch is gone. I wonder how that happened.”
“Probably you banged your arm against something and a pin snapped, or a link broke. Was it expensive?”
“No, it was a cheap waterproof deal I bought for vacation. I’m going—I was going—white-water rafting with my brother and his wife.”
“You can catch up with the guide party tomorrow, or the day after.”
“Maybe.” Slowly she chewed the candy, not sharing with him her terrible sense of isolation, as if rescue was a long time away.
She allowed herself only one bite, to stave off the dizziness, then forced herself back to the matter at hand. After carefully folding the wrapper over the remaining portion of candy and putting it aside, she removed the cold pack from his forehead.