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to break down. Why was he being so nice? “I’m not hurt that badly, I can get cleaned up there,” she said with a quaver in her voice.
    Dean continued to hold his hand out toward her. He didn’t understand why she was downplaying her injuries. By the way she was squinting he knew she had to have a headache, and there was the blood he could see on her palms and on the collar of her shirt.
    “Please,” he told her quietly. “Let me help you. I can at least help you wash your hands so they don’t get infected. Then can you please let me take a look at your head where you hit it? I’m worried about you.”
    Becky cocked her head and looked at him, ignoring his comment about worrying about her, even though it sent tingles throughout her body. She asked after a moment, “How do you know I hit my head?”
    Dean took a deep breath. This was killing him. Why wouldn’t she just give in and let him help her? He usually admired women who were tough in the face of adversity, but he’d give anything for Becky to want to lean on him and let him take care of her. He answered honestly, “You’re squinting like your head hurts, and I can see a bit of blood on the collar of your shirt. You also have some dried blood under your fingertips. I figured it had to have come from your head somewhere. If you aren’t going to let me do it, please take this wet wipe and clean your hands so they don’t get infected. I really want to at least check out your head to make sure it’s not worse than you think it is. I’m sure you know head wounds can be dangerous.”
    “It’s not bleeding anymore,” Becky told him quietly. “It’ll hold until I get back to the house.”
    “What can it hurt for me to take a look to be sure?” Dean insisted, about ready to be done with the back and forth between them and just take her hands into his own and take care of her whether she wanted him to or not.
    Becky sighed. She really did just want to get back the house and not have to deal with this anymore. But it didn’t look like this man was going anywhere anytime soon and he genuinely sounded like he wanted to help her.
    “You aren’t an escaped murderer, are you?” she asked him, only half kidding.
    Dean shook his head and tried to look as non-threatening as he could. “Would a crazed escaped killer take the time to try to wash your hands before he killed you?” he asked with a chuckle.
    Becky giggled and shook her head, wincing when the movement made her head ache again. She reached up to take the scrunchie out of her hair when Dean stopped her.
    “Let me,” he said as he reached for her hair.
    Becky flinched as he reached toward her and she made a conscious effort not to back away from him.
    Dean noticed the flinch and paused in mid reach and asked, “May I? I promise I’ll be gentle and will do what I can not to hurt you further.”
    At Becky’s reluctant nod he reached over slowly and unwound the hairband and loosened her hair, careful not to pull on it or otherwise cause her any unnecessary pain.
    Becky closed her eyes. Man, it felt good to have his hands in her hair. Even though the pain of her injury persisted; she could enjoy his hands on her. She’d never really been touched that much after her mom died, maybe hugs by some friends every now and then, and his hands were so gentle. It was pathetic that this was turning her on. She really needed to get out more. Dean removed her hair from its bindings.
    She took a deep breath and smelled…him. Holy crap, he smelled good. She didn’t think he was wearing cologne, because he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would drown himself in a manufactured scent, but whatever soap he used must be slightly scented. He smelled like the ocean and…man. She didn’t know how to describe it, but it was delicious.
    Dean was trying to control himself. He couldn’t believe she was here. That he’d finally found his One . The fact it was because she was injured was making it not quite what