Page 27 of Fierce-Baker

“I’m a bleeder,” he said. “It will stop soon.”

“Nonsense. Come in, please.”

He held her stare as if he thought she was inviting him into a dungeon for torture rather than offering to clean a cut and prevent infection.

She turned her back and opened the door, holding it wide, daring him to enter.

He let out a snort that sounded more like a laugh. “I don’t want to get blood on your floors.”

“It cleans up like everything else in life. Let’s just run cold water over it.”

She was still holding his hand as if it was one of her students. Guiding him to the sink, she turned the water on as icy as she could get it and stuck his hand under it.

“Is this how you fix all the bumps and bruises in your classroom?”

“With the younger kids, yes. The older ones, half the time they act tough and say they’ve got it. Just like you.”

“I’d like to think I’m tougher than a ten-year-old.”

Her eyes gave him a slow once over. The grin filled his face as he watched her do it. It didn’t seem like it was necessary to pretend she didn’t find him attractive. She’d seen him looking at her the same way last Saturday.

“Only on Wednesdays,” she said.

He burst out laughing. “You’re pretty fast on your feet.”

“I’ve learned to be.” She moved his hand away from the sink. “Looks like it might have stopped.” She ripped off another paper towel. “Wrap this around it and let’s see.”

“You’ve got a gentle touch,” he mumbled.

“It has more to do with patience and distraction. I didn’t know if you were going to pass out at the sight of blood or not.”

“Not likely.”

The humor hadn’t left his eyes, not even when he lifted the paper towel and held his hand out for her inspection. “Looks good to me.” She pulled a big band aid out of the kit and opened it up, set it down while she put ointment on the gash, then wrapped it up. “There, all better.”

“What? No kiss to make the hurt go away?”

Her smile dropped. Her body stilled. The room went silent.

She was positive he could hear her heart hammering in her chest.

And somehow the stupid words came out in a whisper, “Do you want me to?”

8

REFLECTION OF HER

What the fuck was he thinking letting that slip?

Was it the way she was trying to make light of her situation?

The care she was giving him over a simple minor cut?

Or that she was home alone and didn’t look as if she was all that pleased with the arrangement.

He’d hoped she’d get annoyed. Maybe give him some snarky comment in return.

Instead, her blue eyes turned several shades darker, her cheeks filled with more red than blood from his scratch, and the low and rough question escaped her lips.