Chapter 143: Flustered and Trapped

Fraser finished adjusting the IV stand and stood there, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. Summer hesitated before saying, “Can you step out for a moment?”

Fraser leaned against the doorframe, his expression indifferent. “Haven’t I already seen everything?”

That’s not the point! Just because he’d seen everything before didn’t mean he needed to stand there while she used the bathroom! Her nerves were already on edge, and the pressure in her lower abdomen wasn’t helping.

“Just go,” she gritted out.

Fraser didn’t budge. Summer squeezed her eyes shut, her face burning as she blurted out, “I can’t pee with you standing there!”

Above her, she swore she heard the faint trace of a low, amused chuckle. Only then did Fraser finally step out, taking his time. Just before the bathroom door clicked shut, his voice drifted in. “Try not to fall in. I’m not giving you a bath.”

Who the hell asked him to? Summer huffed, quickly pulled down her pants, and finally relieved herself. Flushing the toilet, she—

That’s when it happened. I stood back up, balancing on one leg, and bent down to pull her pants back on. The bathroom door swung open. Summer froze. Her hands stopped mid-motion, and her pants slipped back down to her ankles. One thought flashed through her mind—thank God I flushed.

Fraser strolled in casually, raising an eyebrow as his dark gaze swept over her smooth, slender legs, his eyes darkening slightly. Without a hint of hesitation, he stepped forward, bent down, and pulled her pants up for her—like it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingertips brushed lightly against her skin, sending a shiver up her spine. Goosebumps prickled along her legs, a mix of embarrassment and frustration bubbling inside her.

Fraser smirked, his voice teasing. “You’re staring too hard. If you keep looking at me like that, I might just take it the wrong way. But tell me—are you even in shape for that right now?”

Summer scowled. “Pervert.”

Fraser couldn’t help but be amused by her frustrated expression. With ease, he scooped her up and carried her over to the—

The sound of rushing water filled the quiet room.

But Summer’s mind wasn’t on washing her hands. All she could think about was this shameless man—the smug, self-satisfied look on his face when he so boldly helped her with her pants. She debated splashing water on him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t bold enough to follow through.

Once she was finally back in bed, she yanked the covers over herself, burying even her head under the blanket. Clearly signaling—I’m going to sleep. Leave me alone.

Fraser stood beside the bed, one hand casually in his pocket. He glanced at the lump under the blanket and let out a low chuckle. “What’s the matter, Summer? Too shy to even look at me?”

She already knew exactly why he was acting like this—payback for not telling him she was hurt right away. What a petty man.

From under the blanket, she muttered, “Don’t you know patients need plenty of rest?” In other words, she was telling him he was being too loud and annoying her.

Fraser clicked his tongue, clearly amused. “Never seen a patient so full of energy before.”

Summer rolled her eyes under the blanket. Yeah, thanks to you.

Fraser reached out and tugged the blanket down, revealing Summer’s flushed face. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, the contrast against the crisp white sheets making her features appear even softer—almost too tempting to resist. Her face was still flushed with lingering embarrassment from earlier. With her eyes closed, she mumbled, “I don’t want to look at you right now.”

Fraser’s lips curled into an amused smirk. With his long fingers, he gently pinched her cheek. “Well, that’s a problem because I haven’t seen enough of you yet.”

Meanwhile, in another VIP hospital room…

Peyton walked in carrying a thermos of chicken soup she had spent three hours making. She wore a floral dress with a soft knit cardigan draped over her shoulders, her makeup perfectly done. But the room was empty. Frowning, she turned to leave—just as the door opened and a nurse wheeled Trevor inside.

“Trevor, where were you? You just had surgery—you should be resting.”

Trevor’s sharp gaze locked onto her, cold and unreadable, as if he were looking at a stranger. A chill crept down Peyton’s spine under his intense stare. She instinctively touched her face. Trevor, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Trevor waved a hand, dismissing the nurse. Once they were alone, his voice was calm but edged with something unreadable.

Crash!

Peyton’s face went deathly pale. Her grip loosened, and the thermos slipped from her hands, clattering onto the floor. The chicken soup splattered across the floor. Peyton rushed to Trevor’s wheelchair, panic in her voice. “Trevor, why would you say that? Did someone tell you something? Was it Summer?”