Redmption 40
Redmption 40
I looked up and saw Brandon’s stern and chiseled face. He not only caught me but also managed to grab the watermelon from my hand. Such a dreamy scene. was usually seen only in TV shows. But it was happening to me in real life now.
After steadying me, he let go. But as soon as I moved, a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I grabbed his arm. “It hurts…”
Following my gaze, he saw my pale ankle already turning red. “Did you sprain it?
Brandon was very close. His deep voice sounded especially sexy and pleasant.
I nodded. And the next second, he placed the watermelon back in my hands and lifted me up.
In all the years I was with Chris, he never held me like this. Brandon suddenly carrying me like this made my heart race. Even my nose started to sweat.
Whenever I got nervous or excited, I tend to sweat from my nose.
I heard murmurs from the neighbors and passersby. In such a small town, people aren’t used to seeing such behavior between men and women.
Brandon seemed oblivious to the onlookers as he carried me into the
courtyard. As we entered, I noticed Hammy standing there with a spatula in her hand. She looked at me with resentful eyes.
“Oh, you carried her back? You two are progressing quickly,” Kelly teased us with shining eyes.
“She got hurt,” Brandon explained as he set me down on the bench in the courtyard. He then squatted down, removed my shoe, and held my foot.
His hands were cool. As his palm enveloped my foot, a strange sensation spread from my sole. My toes instinctively curled.
“Don’t move,” Brandon said, pressing the swollen area of my ankle.
“It hurts…” I winced.
But he didn’t stop, probing my ankle. “Does it hurt here?”
I shook my head. He pressed other spots and then concluded, “It’s probably just a muscle sprain; not a bone injury.”
“How can you be so sure?” I blurted out.
Brandon gave me a sideways glance, and Kelly answered for him, “He was a soldier. He knows a lot.” This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.
Did being a soldier make one an all–purpose expert?
I mused silently as Brandon stood up and said, “Don’t move. I’ll get some
medicinal oil.”
He strode away. I noticed he was wearing a tight black T–shirt and navy work pants. He looked very much like a special agent from a TV drama.
“What did you slip on?” Kelly asked.
I pointed outside. “Something on the road, I guess. I just slipped.”
“Where exactly did you slip?” she asked further.
“Right past Hammy’s place,” I replied. Kelly started walking toward the door.
Brandon returned with the medicinal oil. He knelt beside me again, placing my foot on his knee. Knowing what he was about to do, I quickly said, “I’ll do it myself.”
He looked at me. “This needs to be rubbed properly to be effective. You can’t apply the necessary pressure.”
With that, he poured the oil into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and then began massaging my swollen ankle. The pain mixed with a faint tingling
sensation as he worked.