The Perfect Blend Read Online Free PDF

my hands to hold the ice and towel on my face. In that weird detachment that comes with an injury or accident, I wonder just how clean this towel is. Am I stemming blood loss or facilitating infection? “What hit me?” I moan as I am deposited on a picnic table bench. Gentle hands guide my elbow onto the table so I can slump against it and achieve some semblance of verticality. I feel him pull the stray hair out of my face and touch my hands and arms, testing for further injuries. The explosions of pain have dulled into a tremendous sense of pressure, as if my face were swelling up like a beach ball.
    Which, I’m guessing, isn’t far from the truth. I’m already having to breathe through my mouth because my nose feels like it’s the size of a potato.
    â€œArthur Sumners, who has just seriously jeopardized his standing as my best mate, hit you with a ball.”
    I run a tongue over what feels like bulging split lip. I must look like I was in a brawl. “Ball of what? Concrete?”
    He manages a chuckle, reaching behind him for a new towel some teammate just handed him. “Rugby balls aren’t exactly soft, it pains me to say.” He holds out his hand, gesturing for me to swap the clean (and I use that word loosely) towel for the one on my face.
    â€œPains you? ” I’m about to continue when the sheer volume of blood on the towel I hold sends the world spinning again. “Oh…”
    I feel Mr. Grey’s hand catch me as I slump forward. “And that would be our cue to go to the hospital.” I feel his arms scoop me up again, only this time I put up a bit of resistance. “’Nuff of that,” he says, tightening his grip. “I’ll not add falling down to the list of injuries. Art!” I feel him call over his shoulder (and now mine), “Grab her shoes and my coat and go start my car.”
    â€œI didn’t see you there. Really. Sorry,” comes Art’s slightly panicked voice a few seconds later as I am being lugged toward the parking lot.
    â€œOh, that’s not the half of it, Sumners,” William Grey growls. “I’ll think of ways for you to settle this up later. Right now, Miss Black, watch your head here,” his voice strains a bit as he deposits me in the passenger seat of his car. His really nice car I’m about to bleed all over—and maybe worse, given the current state of my spinning stomach.
    â€œI’m…oh…owww. I think my face is broken.”
    â€œLean back against the seat. Put your head here. Hang on to this. There you go.” He guides my hand on to the armrest and shuts the door gently before dashing around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. He checks me again, gingerly peeling back a corner of the towel. “Well, I think it’s not as bad as I first thought.”
    â€œI diffagree. Whaf’s bleeding? Everything?” I lookat him with one eye, because the other one won’t open anymore.
    â€œYou’ve got a nasty gash just above this eye and a scrape here,” he points to my left cheek which is slowly swelling into my field of vision. “I don’t think you broke your nose. Just bloodied it a bit.” He pinches the bridge of his own nose as if in sympathy. “I’m dreadfully sorry. The man’s a brute. An idiot. I don’t know what to say.”
    It came over me in an instant. “I want an A for this.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œYou’re going to gib me an A on my paper for this. I deserbe an A. I’m going to look like a cabe woman with gowilla eyebrowf for a week, or a wacoon with two black eyes, I fink that gets me an A.” I stare as hard as I can at him. “Owwww,” I add, just for emphasis.
    â€œWe don’t cover negotiation until week six.” He’s trying to look stoic, but a laugh percolates behind his eyes.
    â€œOh really. What week do we cover litigation and