Page 33 of The Burbs and the Bees
Before I c
an think better of it, I touch the side of his face, lightly trace the scar below his ear. “Is that how you got this?”
“Yeah,” is all he says, as he presses his credit card to a spot beneath my bra. “This might hurt.”
“It already hurts,” I say and pinch my eyes shut. He scrapes the card over my flesh, and I chew on my bottom lip to stop myself from whimpering. I might be a pampered city girl, but I’m a farmer now, so it’s time to pull on my big girl panties—figuratively speaking. I only own small lacy ones. He removes the stinger, and I have to say, it hurts just as bad coming out as it did going in.
“You’re tough,” he says, and I open my eyes to see the frank admiration in his gaze. My pulse leaps as his praise does the strangest things to me. My chest expands a bit, a reaction to the compliments. I’m about to respond, deflect because I’m not sure what to say, but he speaks first. “Tyler cried like a baby when he got stung.”
“I’m sure you never let him live that down,” I say.
He chuckles. “He was only six, so I cut him some slack.”
“You’ve been taking care of him for a long time,” I say, goose bumps breaking out on my body as he turns me until my back is to him.
“Not really. I just happened to be around when he stirred up the nest.”
He touches my back lightly and bends me forward. I gulp. Would he manipulate me like this between the sheets and caress me with calloused fingers that hold a great deal of tenderness?
“Are you cold?” he asks, his voice rough and gruff, like he’s seconds away from pinning me against the bathroom door and taking me.
Do you want that, Alyson?
Hell yeah, I want that.
Oh boy!
“I’m a little chilly,” I lie. It’s not the air conditioning giving me shivers.
“I’ll try to hurry.” He brushes the rough pad of his fingertips over the small of my back. I quiver, his touch distracting me from the pain. “But I don’t want to rush and hurt you.”
“You’re not hurting me,” I say, my voice a bit breathless. I can only hope he mistakes it for the condition I’m in and not for what his touch is doing to me.
“Mom is a pack rat. I’m going to see if she has a pair of Beck’s or Tyler’s old boots in the barn. They might still be a little big, but you can’t put your shoes on again.”
“I appreciate that. I called the airline, and they still can’t find my luggage. I can only assume it’s gone for good. I hope the Trader Tim’s is still open. I was going to go straight there after work but thought it would be more fun to stir up an apiary.”
He chuckles. “Should be open. Take a breath,” he commands softly, and when I do, he flicks another stinger from my body. Pain from the stings and pleasure from his touch dance over my flesh, and my knees weaken. “Easy,” he says and cups my hips. I lock my knees to right myself. “Do you want to sit?”
“I’m okay,” I croak out. “Let’s just finish this.”
“Just a couple more.” He moves me around and flicks the rest of the stingers out. “All done.” I’m about to bolt to the door but he stops me. “The stingers are gone, but we’re not finished. I need to clean the wounds.” He soaps up the cloth under hot water and lightly presses it to my sores. Damn, why does that feel so good? It’s a question I already know the answer to. Jay is a nice guy, and I’m super attracted to him. I just can’t act on it, though. “Do you have any acetaminophen?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I have a bottle you can have.”
He finishes cleaning me, and I follow him into his bedroom. He tugs a blue T-shirt from his dresser and a pair of sweats from his closet. “These aren’t your usual fashion, but they’re baggy so they shouldn’t rub up against your sores.” I take the clothes and hold them to my chest.
“I appreciate all your help,” I say, and he points to the bed.
“You want to…” He frowns.
Oh, yeah, I want to.
“Your feet,” he says. “I need you seated so I can take care of them.”
“Right.”
