Page 43 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“No! Don’t touch those!” I swatted his hands away as I scrambled to shove everything back in the blue tampon box. “Sorry. It’s just . . . I’ll get them.”
Hunter’s deep chuckle filled the room.
“No laughing,” I hissed as I stuffed the tampon box back under the sink and pulled out the first-aid kit.
He just kept on laughing. “Come on, admit it. It’s kind of funny.”
“Absolutely not! I hit you. Again! That’s twice now that you’ve scared the bejesus out of me and I attacked you. This is bad. This is so, so bad.”
“Maisy, I’m fine,” he said as his laughter drifted off. “I just need a washcloth and a Band-Aid.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. I was a nurse, remember?” I grabbed a washcloth from a drawer and held it under the warm water.
“Yeah? Well, I’m a—”
“Hold still and no talking.” I stepped into his space and pulled his hand away from his gash. “If you need stitches or have a concussion, we need to figure that out right away. This could be serious.”
“For the last time, woman, I’m f—”
“Shush!”
Hunter frowned and glared up at me but stopped talking.
“Okay. Here goes.” I pulled in a deep breath and readied the washcloth. Gently, I pressed it to his wound, cleaning the cut and giving it a good look. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t need stitches, and since he didn’t wince or move, it must not have hurt much. All he’d need was a butterfly bandage and some antibiotic ointment.
“You’re fine,” I breathed as my shoulders fell.
“I recall telling you that once or twice.”
I ignored his sarcasm and continued with my examination. “Are you dizzy? Light-headed? Seeing white spots at all?”
“I’m. Fine.” He took the washcloth from my hand and stood, pushing past me to stand in front of the mirror over the sink. He rifled through the first-aid kit, found a bandage and closed up his cut. “See? All better.”
As my panic faded, a level of embarrassment the likes of which I’d never felt before took its place. I sank down onto the toilet seat and hung my head, burying my face in my palms. “I’m so sorry. For the cut. For going a little, um . . . crazy. God, I’m sorry.”
I waited for the sound of the opening door and his retreating footsteps as he ran far, far away from this crazy lady, but instead he crouched in front of me.
“Hey.” He pulled my hands away from my face. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“This is not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. What are you doing up cleaning at this hour, anyway? Is everything okay?”
“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to just get up and do some work. What about you?”
“Couldn’t sleep either. I was actually just leaving for Wade Lake. I thought I’d head up and see if I could catch the sunrise for your picture.”
“You were?” I whispered.
His gentle eyes answered my question.
Was this guy for real? How was he still here?
Maybe I’d paid my dues with the jerks of the world and Hunter Faraday was my reward.
“Do you want to wake up Coby and come with me?” he asked.
Rousing my three-year-old from his bed before dawn would be the absolute worst decision as a parent. Sleep for kids was so critical and a few extra hours would put me ahead on my list for the week.
