The corner of Tyler’s mouth lifted. “Where have you been after the games lately?” He moved a piece of an old lamp post to a more stable position, then stopped in front of her.
Emma’s heart played its own drum solo. “I’ve been slammed. Work. Taking care of things at my apartment.” She pointed up at the baskets.
Tyler frowned, then leaned next to her and reached up to pull the stack off the top shelf. As his arm retracted, the sound of his exhale and the scent of his cologne made her heady.
“If Troy’s overworking you, you could’ve said something.” Tyler stood barely a ruler’s length from her.
“I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t there.” Emma reached for the baskets, but Tyler moved them to the side.
“Why wouldn’t I notice you weren’t there?”
Emma’s eyes flashed. “Seems like you typically have plenty of company at One Place.” She reached again, and this time Tyler stretched his arm further.
“What kind of company?”
Emma exhaled in annoyance. “Can you please just hand me the baskets? I’m in the middle of a shoot—”
“Why are you avoiding me? You haven’t said two words to me in—”
Emma lunged for the baskets, and Tyler flinched, dropping the stack and knocking his forearm into the shelf. An avalanche of items rained down on them—small boxes, an antique clock, and various other trinkets that had been stashed in this forgotten corner of the house. A small, decorative metal box clipped Emma's exposed shoulder as it plummeted to the ground.
“Holy shit. Emma, are you okay?” Tyler scrambled up to stand and grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides.
Emma steadied herself and nodded. “Yeah.” She took stock to make sure that was a true statement. Her head felt a bit fuzzy, but other than that—
“No, you’re not okay, you’re bleeding.” Tyler twisted her to the side and brushed her hair off her exposed shoulder. This sleeveless turtleneck wasn’t exactly practical, but her arms looked amazing in it. That would teach her for being vain.
“It doesn’t hur—”
Tyler let out a string of curses under his breath and kicked the boxes to the side as he reached for the first-aid supplies next to the door. “I'm so sorry.” He ripped open a package of sterile gauze and held it to her skin.
Emma winced. “Tyler, I promise, it’s not a big deal.”
His fingers moved against her skin as he shifted his hand, and each bone in her spine tingled like plucked harp strings. He lifted her hand to hold it in place while he found a bandage.
“It is a big deal because I was being an ass.”
“I’m not arguing that point.” Emma tried to look over her shoulder to see how bad it was. When her vision doubled from his close proximity, she turned and looked at her reflection in the antique mirror.
“It’s not bad,” she scoffed.
“Please tell me you’re up to date on your tetanus shot.” Tyler opened the bandage. “At least this is antibacterial.”
“Thank you, Dr. Bowen,” Emma remarked dryly.
“The shot?” Tyler gave her a look.
Emma pulled away the gauze. “I don’t know, probably? Are we back to requiring vaccination records?” That finally forced a smile out of him. He smoothed the bandage over her skin, and the heat from his body warmed the chilled skin on her arm.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have held the baskets hostage.” His voice rumbled next to her ear.
“They didn’t deserve that. They were innocent bystanders.” She glanced down at the baskets strewn across the floor, but didn’t move to pick them up. Tyler’s hand brushed over the bandage again, as if convincing himself it was sealed to her skin.
She looked up into his hazel eyes, and the dusty air grew thick. “Tyler—”
His hand lingered, and she forgot what she’d been about to say. When it dropped from her cut and trailed over the back of her knit top, she forgot how to think.
Her shoulders curved as her eyes shut without permission. Air whooshed from her lungs.She couldn’t breathe.Tyler’s scent was everywhere, his warmth everywhere, his touch . . .
