Ignoring his gaze, I look back to Dozer. “We can move him, but getting him back to the hotel and to your car isn’t an option. He’s too big to carry that far.”
“I can do it,” Jordan asserts.
“Maybe so, but it’ll be really painful for him if you do. Can you go get your car and drive it to the road just up ahead? You can move him from here to there with much less pain to him.”
Jordan looks between the dog and me, his brow furrowed. “You’ll stay here with him?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be back in five.” Jordan jumps to his feet in one swift move, and takes off running back the way we came.
“Not long now, boy.” I stroke Dozer’s ear. “Jordan will get his car, and we’ll get you to a vet. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”
Leaning forward, I take another look at Dozer’s leg. I really should strap it up; it’ll make it less painful for when we move him.
I glance around, looking for a suitable splint. I spot a stick at just the right length, so I crawl over and grab it.
Using my teeth, I bite and gnaw at the hem of my t-shirt. I manage to get a small tear—thank you cheap material—then using teeth and hands, I pull against the fabric, tearing upward. I stop a good few inches below my br**sts. I secure the fabric to my chest by placing my arm under my br**sts. Holding the t-shirt in place, I start to tear across.
When I’m done, I have enough t-shirt to cover my br**sts, and enough material to strap up Dozer’s leg.
“Okay, Dozer. I’m going to strap your leg up with this stick, and what was my t-shirt.”
Brown eyes stare up at me unhappily.
“I won’t lie to you – it’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be real quick, I promise.”
Dozer closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh.
I don’t think he’ll bite me as he’s in too much pain, but I’m edging on the side of caution here because he’s a huge frigging dog. He could take my hand off.
Carefully, I take hold of his broken leg. He growls, baring his teeth. I pause, his leg in my hand.
“I’m helping, Dozer. Remember that before you decide to sink your teeth into me, okay?”
He makes no other sound. Just huffs out a breath and his lips slacken, covering his teeth.
I take a deep breath, and try again. “I’m gonna have to straighten your leg a little … you ready? Done.” He growls again, and I realize it’s not at me but at the pain.
“Well done.” I exhale. My heart is pounding solid against my ribs.
I pick up the splint and place it against the back of his leg. I grab the material, and start to wrap it around the make-shift splint, tight enough to hold his leg.
When I’m done, I rip the end of it the fabric with my teeth again, giving me a tie. I wrap one side around, then fasten it with the other into a knot.
Setting his leg down, I puff out a breath. “Well done, Dozer.” I pat him.
A minute later, I hear the roar of an engine. Assuming it’s Jordan, I get to my feet, brushing dirt and twigs from my knees.
“I’ll just be a second,” I say.
I step through the clearing and into view of the road. The red Mustang from the hotel is coming toward me.
Jordan pulls to a quick stop beside me. He jumps out of the car. “How’s he doing?”
“In pain, but he’s doing good.” I follow behind.
Jordan crouches down beside Dozer. “Hey boy. Gonna get you to the vet now.”
He carefully slides his hands under Dozer, then in one swift move, and with minimum effort, Jordan lifts Dozer and stands with him in his arms.
Wow.
That is one huge dog. He must weigh one sixty at least.
Jordan is a lot stronger than he looks. Not that he looks wimpy because he doesn’t. Nope. Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s definitely all man. He’s just not muscular in a bodybuilder sense. More in an athletic, defined, toned kind of way. Well, from what I can tell through his clothes, anyway.
Jordan looks exactly how a guy should look … says me and my vastly inexperienced knowledge of men.
The only male body I have ever known is Forbes, and he’s built like a linebacker. Complete opposite to Jordan.
But I prefer Jordan’s physic. It’s just … perfect.
As I stare at him, my mind wanders to fantasy…
Jordan lifting me into his arms. Me wrapping my legs around his waist. Him pressing me up against a tree, crushing his lips to mine. His hand moving lower, between my legs, touching me in just the right place…
“You coming?”
Coming?
“What?”
I look up at his face. He’s staring down at me. Brow furrowed. Dozer still in his arms.
Dog. Hit. By. Car.
Going to the vets.
“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I’m coming. With you.”
Oh god.
Way to go, Mia. Get turned on from watching the hot guy carrying his injured dog.
This is not me at all. But around Jordan, my state of normal no longer seems to exist.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
With embarrassment flooding my cheeks, I jog on ahead to the car.
Reaching it first, I open the passenger door, and pull the seat forward, giving Jordan access to the backseat. It’s a two door car, so Jordan could have a task getting Dozer in, but he manages it with minimal fuss.
“I’ll sit in the back with him,” I say, hand on the car roof, foot in the door, ready to climb in.