He held out his hand, but I shook my head. I was used to patching people up. It actually brought me joy to help.
“I don’t mind gruesome,” I insisted and placed the supplies on a rack I could reach.
“That so?” He studied me.
I nodded and moved close. “Um… do you mind if I…?”
He nodded when he saw my hands hovering near his jaw, “Go for it.”
“Oh, one second. I almost forgot.” I went over to wash my hands with warm water and applied some lotion so he wouldn’t have to feel sandpaper on his skin.
When I came back, I placed hesitant fingers on his jawline to tilt his head in the best position. He had a bit of scruff on his face, and it felt nice against my fingertips. I kept my hands on his jaw so he’d stay still as I examined the cut. It wasn’t as deep as I originally suspected and seemed to be healing for the most part.
“Not as bad as I thought,” I told him as I brushed back some of his hair so it wouldn’t get in my way while cleaning. The strands were thick, curling a bit at the end from the rain outside.
“That’s a relief,” he murmured, trying not to move his mouth too much because my hands were still on his jaw. “I thought I must look like something close to a monster from the way you clocked me with that umbrella.”
My shoulders sagged, and he chuckled to let me know he wasn’t being serious.
“I didn’t clock you because of the cut… I didn’t think I managed to clock you at all.”
“Got pretty close.” Until now, he’d been keeping his eyes closed since I was touching his face. But for his next sentence, he opened them.
We were closer than the majority of strangers ever got. If he hadn’t been tilting his head up to meet my gaze, he’d be staring right at my cleavage.
The proximity didn’t seem to bother him. He continued talking without missing a beat. I, on the other hand, could feel my body overheating.
He smelt like a fresh shower mixed with spearmint. The small, silver ring in his eyebrow glinted in the bright lighting of the bathroom. I’d always wanted a face piercing, but my parents would never sign off. By the time I got old enough, I couldn’t figure out exactly where I wanted it so I never made the effort.
“You have impressive reflexes, by the way.”
His compliment pulled me out of my mini daydream. I’d envisioned going to a tattoo parlor and having him hold my hand as I got something pierced.
I pulled away for a second to pour alcohol on a cotton ball. “Thanks. Never know who might try you in this world, so I took self-defense lessons a few years back. If only my strength would catch up to the rest of my skills.”
He chuckled, “I’m sure if you went against the average Joe, you’d be able to defend yourself without question.”
I smiled, “And you’re definitely not average, are you?”
“When it comes to strength, no.” The grin he gave me was small and void of any amount of cockiness. Impressive. Most guys I knew would have used that as a gateway to brag about their other talents.
He tilted his head up without me having to adjust him with my fingers this time. I held onto his chin anyway to assure he’d keep still once he felt the stinging of the alcohol cleaning the cut.
“It might hurt,” I warned in a sympathetic tone.
“Give me your best shot,” he teased.
I pressed the cotton against his skin; he didn’t flinch. There wasn’t even a blink of an eye. I tried not to look too impressed as I cleaned the blood off of him.
I lost my balance when I leaned in closer to make sure I got every inch of the wound. He was quick to grip my hip, steadying me before my breasts smashed against his face.
“Sorry.” I pulled away instantly at the feel of his hands on me.
“You’re fine,” he said, voice smooth and expression unbothered.
Through my waistband, I felt the comforting warmth of his touch. His fingers were firm, wrapping around my soft hip as if he was familiar with my curves.
Focus, Emmy. No guys, remember? Especially not one that’s on the team.
