“So,” she started, sounding almost nervous, “how do you know the woman you were running with?”
He squatted beside her and poured some water over her knees to clean the wounds, biting back a grin at the way she said it. “I’m quoting Briar’s kitchen cabinetry.”
“Hm.”
He dabbed her knees with antiseptic wipes. “Doyouknow her?”
“Those were her irises I bought.”
“She mentioned something about that.”
“She seems fit.” Clara plucked at a blade of grass. “She didn’t lose her breath like the rest of us.”
He grabbed a bandage from the kit and applied it to her knee. “She organized the event, so I’m sure she’s a runner.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a do-gooder type.”
“Clara Hayes. It’s not like you to say something unkind about someone.”
She rolled her eyes. “I bet you were thinking it. Does she really seem like someone who would organize a community event out of the kindness of her heart?”
“I don’t really know her well enough to make that judgment.” He closed his first aid kit.
“Maybe you can get to know her while you renovate her kitchen.”
“Maybe.” He sat back. “All done.”
“Thank you.” She wet her lips. “And even though I didn’t want you to come today…thank you for looking out for me.”
His lips stretched into a smile. “That was hard for you, wasn’t it?”
Another roll of her eyes. “I’m going now.”
She stood and took a step away from him, but he rose and gripped her arm, tugging her back. “Hey.”
She turned, eyes wide.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always look out for you, Clara.” Even though it was a dangerous fucking game to be around her.
CHAPTER 5
Clara gasped as the scraper slipped from her fingers and her hand slid against the wood, a splinter cutting into her palm.
Holy godfather, that hurt. And why was this her third injury in the span of an hour? Surely she should be able to follow a simple YouTube clip without a dozen injuries. They made scraping flakes off wood look so easy. Itshouldbe easy, shouldn’t it?
She went to the bathroom to grab tweezers from the drawer. It’d been years since she’d had to remove a splinter, but it shouldn’t be too hard.
She tried to grab the end of the splinter, only to cringe at the sting of pain.
Well, apparently, nothing was easy for her.
She tried again, her nose wrinkling at the pain. Good Lord, she could go through chemo, but she couldn’t deal with a splinter?
The doorbell rang.
And that was the universe telling her to give up.
She went to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it.
