She leaned against the door to lift her foot. About to ask Disa to play torch for her, Wendy instead fell through the door when Hook opened it. He kept her from hitting the floor, but it was an awkward catch.
“Why did you yelp?”
Wendy lifted her chin to scowl at him. “Yel—” Her objection died when she saw how close their faces were. This distracted her from the pain in her foot and her irritation. It felt rather wonderful to be held by a strong, good-looking man. She renewed her scowl when his eyes dropped to her lips. “I stepped on something sharp.”
Hook’s lips twisted, and she thought she could see him choosing not to ask about her mini-tantrum. Then he swooped her off her feet, causing her to gasp and clutch at his shirt front. He dropped her on the couch, opposite Mirai, and she bounced a bit on the landing.
Wendy opened her mouth to protest, then paused when he lifted her injured foot. Feet had never seemed particularly scandalous before now. But she’d never had a man hold her bare foot before, either. Heat flooded her face as she looked at the state of her newly callused extremities.
“My feet are filthy,” she said as she tried to free her ankle from his grasp.
“That happens when one prances about without shoes,” he replied mildly. “You have a substantial splinter in your heel.”
“I guessed as much.” Wendy made a face that probably revealed how uncomfortable she was with his scrutiny. Fortunately, he was focused on the unnatural protrusion.
“Mirai,” he addressed the cat, “I need you to move, please.”
Mirai opened her eyes as Hook set down Wendy’s foot and walked over to one of the cabinets that lined the wall. Taking her time and letting everyone know that moving washeridea, the cat stretched, then sauntered toward the table in the middle of the room. After leaping to the surface, she began to bathe one front paw.
“Scoot to the other end of the couch, Wendy.”
“I notice you’re more polite to the cat.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her before using his most monotone voice yet. “Please.”
Wendy breathed out a little forcefully, then transferred her tush from one end of the couch to the other. He returned, balancing a small dish on his hook and carrying a towel in the other. Sitting in the corner she had vacated, Hook placed the towel on the armrest and transferred the dish to the cushion between them.
A roll of bandages hid whatever else might be on the tray. As she watched, Hook lifted her injured foot to rest on his knee. He secured her ankle by trapping it with his hook. The metal felt cool against her suddenly heated skin. With his hand, he nudged the bandage roll aside and picked up a pair of tweezers.
“Can you hold still for this?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t asked in an unkind manner, but Wendy still answered in the overly patient way one does when letting others know they are, in fact, being Very Patient.
The removal itself was a quick process. The splinter came out in one piece, and there wasn’t much blood.
“Alcohol,” Hook stated in warning.
Wendy registered his words a second after the damp towel came in contact with her wound. The sudden intake of breath through clenched teeth kept her from snipping at him. He had her foot wrapped a moment later. The hook came in handy when he knotted the bandage neatly. Maybe a hook had its uses beyond intimidation.
As Hook tidied away his supplies, Wendy cautiously put weight on her foot. Without the foreign object embedded in her heel, there was only a temporary discomfort. Her shoulders dropped as she realized she owed him a thank-you.
“Thank you. I’ll be going now.” And with that, she left the room, her stately departure marred every other step by the twinge that added a slight limp.
The unpleasantly damp scent of the hallway sent her to the upper deck in search of fresh air. She parked herself amid the collection of crates in her favorite spot. Resting against the rough wood, Wendy closed her eyes to better enjoy the interplay of warm sun and cool breeze.
“Would you like a pastry?”
She blinked against the discoloration of the world that always happened when one’s eyelids faced direct sunlight. Tam held out the treat. Wendy took a bite of the flaky crust to discover a bright fruit-filled interior. She noted that it was edging toward being stale.
“You eat very well for folks living on a boat.”
Tam shrugged. “The captain takes care of us, and we make shore every few days or so.”
Wendy nodded. “Care to join me?” she asked after swallowing.
“Sure.” The boy hopped into the space she made for him on the cargo. “So you know the captain is a good guy, right?”
She inhaled through her nose before answering. “I know that he isn’t the villain portrayed in the book,” she admitted.
