She shook her head. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s not even seven o’clock. Come on, one game…please? Don’t make me read a book.”
Her chest expanded as she inhaled. “Fine. One game.”
Luke grabbed the board and deck of cards from the bookshelf and returned to the table, sitting across from her.
She swiped the cards. “I’ll shuffle.”
“I am hurt by your implication.” He winked and set up the pegs on the board.
“Mmm hmm.”
Rowan shuffled and dealt the cards. Picking his up, he winced when the corner of one dug into the palm of his hand, right where the skin had rubbed off.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
Ignoring him, she set her cards down and grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. “What happened?” she asked, doing the same with his other hand.
“Been a while since I’ve had to chop up a tree. I don’t have any calluses on my palms anymore.”
“Stay there.” She pushed up from the table and walked around the small island and disappeared from sight. He heard her rummaging around in the cabinets before she reappeared and returned to the table, setting a large canvas bag on the table.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“First aid kit,” she said, scooting the chair next to him so close her knees bracketed one of his.
The heat from her legs embraced his and he pushed the image of them wrapped around his waist out of his mind. It didn’t stop the shudder from racing up his spine as her thigh brushed his.
“Hands,” she said.
“What?”
“Your hands.” She looked at him expectantly. “They need to be cleaned so they don’t get infected.”
He glanced at his raw palms. “I washed them.”
“Give me your hands.” She didn’t wait for his compliance but grabbed both his hands and pulled them closer to her.
She was touching him—voluntarily—what the hell was he griping about? He watched her dig through the bag and pull out several items—gauze, a small brown bottle, and bandages. The antiseptic wipes stung and he inhaled through his teeth. She shook the small brown bottle and uncapped it.
“Ah! Shit!” He jerked his hand away. He didn’t know if it was whatever was in the bottle or that it was put on after the antiseptic, but it hurt like a bitch.
She yanked his hand back. “Quit being a baby.” She blew on the raw skin and the sting dissipated.
Unfortunately, watching her pucker her lips and feeling her cool, soft breath on his skin caused another ache to form. He glanced down quickly to gauge how much of his lap was under the table. Probably not the best time to sport a boner.
“Thank you for clearing the tree,” she said.
“There didn’t seem to be any other choice. Thankfully there was a working chainsaw or we would have been hiking out of here.”
“I guess one good thing came out of you following me up here—I would have been screwed by myself.”
“You would have figured it out.”
“Maybe.”
