“That’s it?” I wrinkled my brow, flexing my palm through the stinging sensation.
“For now. Go wash up, with soap this time, and then I’ll get you all bandaged up.”
I popped down from the stool, peeking over at Spencer, who was still hard at work at the stove. She’d pulled a lot of ingredients for a simple grilled cheese.
Leo pulled off her gloves and was reaching for gauze while I washed my hands. “You’ll need to keep an eye out for any signs of infection — swelling, oozing, hot to the touch. Some of those shards went pretty deep, and I wouldn’t want to take my chances with whatever grime is on the ground outside of Red Poison.”
“No kidding.” I shuddered, doling out an extra pump of soap into my hands. It still stung as I rubbed them together, but not nearly as badly as before. Whatever she’d done with those tweezers, she’d been delicate about it.
All cleaned up, I headed back over and let her bandage me up, crisscrossing the gauze over my palm and around my thumb. She worked quickly, her fingers strong yet dexterous as she wrapped the wounds.
Once the bandage was secured in place, she gave my hand a light squeeze. “How does that feel?”
“Good.” I looked down, ignoring the tingle that shot through my hand at her probing. Even with the bandage on, I could tell it was in much better shape. “Thank you.”
“Any time, darlin’.” She smiled with a softness that only heightened her handsome features.
I tried to wrap my mind around the duality of that look as my other savior came wheeling around the counter, plates in hand. “Dinner’s up!”
They set a heavy white plate in front of me, sliding the other to Leo without a second glance. It was loaded high with sandwich halves — sourdough panfried to perfection and dripping with at least two types of cheese. Fresh rosemary garnished the plate, and a little bowl of tomato bisque sat beside the sandwiches, ready for dipping.
“Holy shit.” I grabbed the grilled cheese with my good hand, shoving a bite into my mouth as quickly as I could. My mouth watered as I tore into the crusty bread, dipping my next bite in the bisque as I chewed the first. It tasted even better than it looked with bits of caramelized onion hidden within the cheese.
Groaning, I slammed my bad hand down on the table. “Fuck, are you a chef?”
Spencer watched me from across the kitchen, mouth hanging open as her own plate nearly fell out of her hand. “No, but I can be. Do you want me to be?”
Leo rolled her eyes, taking a rough bite of her own grilled cheese. Somehow, her hand was completely undamaged despite the solid punches she’d landed on Gabriel’s face. “Keep it in yourpants, Spence. The girl’s hardly had five seconds to adjust, and you’re already drooling all over the place.”
Spencer threw a hand towel across the island, narrowly missing Leo’s head. “Oh, like you’re so much better, getting all handsy with your first aid act.”
“It’s not an act. I’m a doctor. You should remember, based on how many times I’ve had to patch you up lately.”
“Oh, please. Why don’t you put all that schooling to good use and see if you can finally extract that stick that’s up your ass?”
The two of them bickered like two brothers fighting to impress a school yard crush. It was entertaining on some level, but someone had to tell them it would be fruitless.
I cleared my throat, both of them whipping their heads to attention.
“I’m, uh…. I’m straight.”
The ensuing silence was quickly broken by Spencer’s stifled laugh, which was quickly broken by a sharp elbow to her ribs by Leo.
“Sorry,” Spencer choked. “Swallowed my food wrong.”
I furrowed my brows, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s so funny about me being straight, hmm?”
“Nothing.” Leo cut in, shooting Spencer a glare that made her swallow whatever witty response she thought she’d come up with. “Excuse her. She’s got chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome. Incurable, unfortunately.”
“It shows.” I tried shooting Spencer a dirty look, but quickly had to avert my eyes to my plate to avoid returning her sheepish grin. I pushed the grilled cheese half around for a second before picking it up again, ready for a new conversation topic.
“So,” I gestured out to the hallway with my pointed halve of bread. “What’s with all the tarps and stuff out there? Are you guys squatting here?”
“Sorta.” Spencer shrugged.
“Our roommate owns the house. She has a cleaner come in once a week, but there’s only so much cleaning you can do in an active renovation zone. We try our best to keep things clean, but it’s easy for things to slip to the wayside when we’re all so busy. Luckily, Dom?—”
She froze midsentence, her face locking on something over my shoulder.
