I’m trying to check on her, and she’s worriedImight need help?
There was a visible change in her today, with doors opening and this business she’s managing being officially open, but I didn’t realize she might extend that professionalism to me.
Feels like progress between us, but part of me misses that spark in her eyes when she fires insults my way.
It’s probably that same part of me that gets hard at the prospect of a little danger.
I’ve got a kink for wild things, I guess. Comes with trauma like mine.
“Samuel’s got it under control,” I assure her, reaching a hand out for hers. “You hurt?”
Lexi pulls her hands closer to her middle, but twitches like she’s in pain with the movement.
“I’m fine.”
“You’d be fine in a cardboard box,” I toss out at her, winking. “But what’s going on with your hands?”
“Leave it, Chef. I’m not your problem.”
“If only I were so lucky.” A heavy sigh full of longing pours out from my lungs, filling the air between us for a dense moment. “I’d kill for you to be my problem,bella.”
Exasperation weighs down her voice when she snaps, “Is this your default setting? You just flirt with everyone you meet?”
“No, Alexis. Just you.”
Hunching over, I get a better look at her hands. Cracked, nearly bloody.
“Still building up your dragon skin, I see.”
My hands are damn near numb these days, but I remember my early days in the kitchen. The chemicals in washing andsanitizing dishes feel like hell on soft skin like hers. Even worse when you do it dozens of times a day.
“Earning my battle scars,” she says with honeyed eyes and a soft smile that I pocket for later. A rare treat from her that I’d love to earn again. Feels like that high I get when we banter, but maybe even better.
“I have something that’ll help. Hold up.”
Dashing to my locker in the break room, the small silver tube is an easy find, and I jog back to her, standing taller now, but still dimmed and a far sight from the woman running around the restaurant all afternoon with a smile that rivaled the sunrise over the Smokies.
She’s silent when I return, and I don’t ruin the moment with my big mouth for once. Unscrewing the cap, a healthy amount of the creamy, silky concoction squeezes out of the opening into my palm. Dropping the tube in my pocket, I spread the lotion between my hands and take one of hers with caution.
A small breath parts her lips, but I don’t hesitate, rubbing the formula into the backs of her hands where the damage appears to be the worst.
The soft gasp she forgets to suppress as I massage the lotion into her ravaged hands tells me what she won’t.
I know the magic that comes with instant relief of pain like that and might be taking extreme pride that I’m the one who gets to give her what she needs here and now. Holding onto her fingers with one hand, my other does a thorough review, making sure I haven’t missed a single cell that could keep hurting her.
My palm glides over the back of her hand until I’m satisfied a thick layer has already penetrated her skin and is hard at work repairing it.
Then I take her other hand in mine and repeat it, coating each finger one by one, followed by the larger surface area of her hand.
It’s easier to focus on putting a pin in her pain than it is to watch her eyes flutter shut, or that tiny moan that squeaks out when my thumb rubs deep circles into her palm.
“Chef!” Charlie calls from his station.
Lexi’s eyes open abruptly and she pulls her hand back from mine as she startles.
I might start a fire somewhere else just to get Charlie called out of here.
“Chef, how many tries on plating the sauce is too many?” He sounds close to panicked, and it stirs my need to jump in.
