Well, that is quite the coincidence. Could we have even been there at the same time?
“I remember having this amazing thing there once.” I rub the sore spot at the center of my palm where the offending splinter still resides. “It was layers of salmon and avocado and fried potatoes and some sort of relish.”
Summer’s hands fly to her cheeks, and she almost pokes herself in the eye with the tweezers. “Holy shit. You mean, ‘The Stack-It-Up Special with Sammy’s Secret Sauce.’ That was the best.”
Maybe we have a connection that’s bigger than coincidence. “It was pretty damn great. Must be four years, and I still remember it.”
Our eyes stay locked, both of us smiling like giddy teenagers at discovering something that links us.
But after barely a second, the joy on her face fades, like she’s pulled herself away from a place where we found a special bond and has returned to reality.
She takes my hand again and refocuses her attention. “Anyway. Let’s get this bad boy out once and for all.”
I turn my head away and close my eyes. “Can’t watch.”
She settles my hand on her thigh again, and strokes her fingers over mine to spread them out as the cold points of the tweezers hit the spot where the sliver sits. I brace myself against the thrill of her touch and the pain of the first aid she’s administering. But nothing happens. There’s only silence. And the warmth of her leg against the back of my hand and the touch of her fingers on mine.
I give it a moment, then open my eyes to find her looking at me. Her fingers still rest on mine. And in the other hand, she grips the fully removed sliver in the tweezers.
“Oh, it’s out?” And did I catch her full-on staring at me?
She springs to her feet, and my hand falls from her lap. “Yes. Came out easily once I got it from the right angle. It’s big though.” She places it next to the first one on the counter. “That’s a lot of wood.”
I can’t help myself. “That’s what all the girls say.”
I do love how easily she blushes. “I’m sure they do. And I’m sure there’s plenty of them.”
She scoops the bits off the counter into the palm of her hand and walks around to the other side of the breakfast bar.
“Whatever gives you that idea?” I plant my elbows on the counter, rest my chin in my hands, and give her a look of exaggerated innocence.
“Oh, you know. The flashy company, the piles of cash, the utter lack of”—she points at the woody bits in her palm—“outdoorsy skills.” Summer opens the cabinet under the sink and drops the slivers into the wastebasket.
“Well, I guess we’re back to you judging me again. Because there aren’t plenty of women. Almost none, in fact. I don’t have time.” I lean back and link my hands behind my head. “But, while we’re probing personal lives…If you have an accounting degree from a prestigious school, why do you knit for a living? And live, well,here?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sexy defiance is back.
“That maybe you could do better.”
“And how do you define ‘better’?”
“Well, right now, somewhere with internet and a phone connection.”
She slams the cabinet door shut and strides over to the living area, where Elsa is stretched out in front of the fire. “And if I wasn’t here with my inadequate home and inadequate technological services, where would you be right now?”
She strokes the dog, then bends and kisses the bridge of her nose. Seeing those lips pucker makes me wonder what they might be like on mine. Or, indeed, anywhere on my body.
She picks up the poker and stabs at the fire.
“I guess I would have turned around and headed back the way I came.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have got far in that thing.” She jabs the poker toward the front window and the driveway where my small rental car is parked.Then turns her head to look at me. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out in weather like this in a completely unsuitable vehicle?”
Her chin wobbles a little as she resumes poking the fire.
Shit. I seem to have accidentally upset her. My heart and stomach lurch, doing their best to make me realize I care about that.
I slide off the stool and make my way toward her, stepping over the dog. I stop with my chest just inches from Summer’s side. She’s still taking her frustration out on the burning logs, her eyes full of tears that strain to spill over.
