“Not tonight you won’t.” The words shot out without even thinking. “I mean,” he said, quickly backpedaling, “your ankle is still so swollen, and you’re still under the influence of morphine. You could fall again.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said as he pulled into the parking space just in front of her condo. She turned around and grabbed her crutches.

Before he could open his door, she was already opening hers. “Don’t get out.” His words were far more commanding than she’d obviously expected to hear from him, and she turned to look at him, her eyes confirming his tone had startled her. “I’ll come around and help you.”

He rushed around the Jeep because he was already picking up on her tenacity and decided she may very well ignore his request that she wait for him to come around and help her. He cursed under his breath. Was she really going to try to make it up to the second floor when she could barely stand without wobbling?

Sure as shit she already had the door open and her good leg hanging out, trying to place the crutches on the ground. He held his hand out for her. “Give me your hand, Ms. Brady. I’ll get you down.”

She’d begun to take his hand but took it back. “Oh, can we please stop with that, Brandon? It’s so silly.” Her furrowed brows were back, and Brandon stared at her, trying not to get caught up in those big dark eyes as he had too often tonight already. “We’ve been around each other all night. We may not know each other very well, but I’d say, after the hours we’ve spent together, we can at least be on a first-name basis.”

Moving in closer to her, he saw her eyes widen. “Forget about giving me your hand,” he said, disregarding her previous comments and took her by the waist. “Put your hands on my shoulders instead.”

She didn’t move right away but then huffed and complied. He lifted her off the seat, bringing her body against his as she slid down until her good foot was on the ground.

“Keep holding on to me,” he said, ignoring the way she was staring at him and reached for her crutch. “Here you go.” He placed the crutch under her arm but continued to hold on to her firmly, even as she put her weight down on the crutch and her good foot. “Don’t let the other one touch the ground. Remember you don’t want to put any pressure on it at all yet.” Even after placing the other crutch under her other arm, she still swayed a little and didn’t look at all as if she’d be going too far without taking a tumble. “Maybe I should just carry you. You seem a little dizzy still.”

“I got it,” she insisted, but he didn’t let go of her, walking alongside of her as she struggled with every step.

When she nearly fell for the third time, he took the crutch from under her left arm and threw it down on the grassy area in front of her condo.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Keeping you from falling and breaking your other ankle.”

He would’ve preferred throwing her stubborn ass over his shoulder, but he was afraid of hurting her ankle, so he lifted her once again, cradling her in his arms. She dropped the other crutch and wrapped her arms around his neck. Having her in his arms like this just like when she’d slid down his body getting out of the car felt too damn good. He needed to get her inside and get the hell out of there fast. He reached the small porch with a wooden swing bench. “You have the keys on you?”

“Oh, no.” She winced. “They’re in my purse in your back seat.”

Brandon placed her down on the bench, careful that it didn’t swing too much. He rushed back to the Jeep and grabbed her purse, determined to get this over with. Even if she did insist she was going upstairs tonight when she couldn’t even make it from his Jeep to the front door, he wouldn’t be arguing. She wasn’t his concern. He’d get her in and wash his hands of her. He’d already gone above and beyond considering the risk he knew he’d be taking the moment he decided to stay with her the whole time tonight.

Picking up the crutches from the grass on the way back with her purse, he handed it to her, not wanting to dig through it himself. He leaned the crutches against the wall just outside her front door. Regina took the purse, and after looking through it for a few seconds, she handed him the key. He unlocked the front door and opened it. The front room was completely dark, and his hand searched the wall just inside next to the door. “Is this where . . .?” he began to ask, but then found the switch and turned the lights on. He blinked, staring into the nearly empty front room. “You don’t have furniture?” he asked, not sure if maybe she’d been burglarized, because there were a few things in her front room—a couple of plants, a few boxes, and a big antique-looking trunk.

“I’ve only been living here a few weeks. I, uh, left most of my furniture in New York,” she explained. “It would’ve been too much of a hassle to bring. I do have furniture coming, but the front room stuff was special order, so it’s taking longer to arrive. I have appliances and a kitchen table,” she offered with a smile. “Oh and the most important item I had delivered before I even arrived. My bed.”

Brandon’s shoulders slumped and he let his head fall back. No wonder she was insisting she could go upstairs tonight. Where the hell else would she be sleeping if she didn’t? Fuck! As indifferent as he wanted to be about this and help her in the front door then turn around and walk away, he couldn’t in clear conscience just leave her like this. “Maybe you should get a room for the night,” he suggested.