With an occasional brush of his fingers against my back, he guides me to his kitchen. There, he orders me to take a seat at his table. Once I follow along with his demands, he leaves me long enough to detach his findings and to set a nice-looking bow against the wall. Giving me continuous glances, he stops at the sink to wash up.
I don’t mean to watch him do something as simple as spreading suds all over his hands and arms, but there’s something about seeing the flex of his muscles beneath the stream of water that twists something hot in my stomach. Not just there, but some of the heat drips even lower.
I am way out of my element here. Maybe I hit my head too hard during my fall, or something else, but I shouldn’t be looking at my rescuer the way I am, should I?
My heart flutters in my chest as I lift my camera. Without really thinking about it, I take a picture of his movement.
He glances my way at the sound of the shutter giving me away. He questions me with the lift of his brow.
“I’m, um, considering the different paths photography can take. People are a popular subject to catch.” Looking at what I got, I swallow thickly at the realization of how good it looks. “I can’t delete it, sorry.”
In the time it takes me to blink, I think I see his mouth twitch. Not into a smile, but to the closest one I think this man has ever experienced.
“It’s fine, but how about we take a pause on that portfolio of yours?” Drying his hands, he disappears momentarily before returning with a bottle of pills in his hands. Setting it next to me, he gets a glass of water next.
After running out of water a bit before he discovered me, the water goes down quickly enough to make him rumble again, this time with what I think is a chuckle.
Leaving my side once more, he returns to his sink, kneeling to pluck out a first aid kit. Coming my way, he cracks it open.
“How bad does it hurt?” Pulling out wipes and alcohol, his eyes flicker over to my leg.
“Maybe a five right now? It’s more sore than anything.” Taking a look at it as well, I immediately regret it when seeing that the gash isn’t like any scratch I’ve received before. The rock I cut it on was sharp enough to slice my shorts. If it weren’t for my clothing, I can only imagine how deep it would’ve been.
I think I could’ve really died. Bleeding out would’ve been the lamest way to go out on a mountain. At least I would’ve had one heck of a view to go out on.
Sipping at the water, I watch him move so he’s settling on his knees. Suddenly looking down at him, my breath catches in my lungs. It’s a miracle I don’t drop the glass when one of his hands moves to cup the outside of my thigh. Where his thumb has to brush the flap of fabric away, it tingles so much that I can’t tell if I want to giggle from being ticklish or groan from experiencing being touched by someone else like this.
Unlike me, who is completely falling off the edge here, Callan takes in my injury with a pinched expression. He brushes my reddened skin, barely applying pressure.
“You seem to know what you’re doing.” Keeping myself talking before the heat on my cheeks consumes me everywhere, I’m only slightly relieved when he pulls away to grab things from his kit.
“I’ve got an idea, sure.” He gathers a bottle of alcohol and cradles it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to tend to someone other than myself. though.” There’s something aboutthe way he’s staring at the label, like his gaze is growing distant, a little lost.
Without thinking, I reach out toward him and brush his cheek with my fingers. “Doctor?”
He snorts again before leaning into my touch. His beard is prickly against my palm, but I can’t find it in me to pull away. “Combat medic.”
“A veteran, huh?” Offering up a smile, I realize that I’m stroking his cheek. Catching myself in the act, I pull back and let out an awkward laugh. “Well, this is probably just a scratch in comparison to what you’d experienced, huh? Sorry to be a pain.”
“You’re everything, but.” Uncapping the alcohol, he warns me that it’s going to hurt before he cleans my wound.
Hurtis an understatement. It’s far worse than the fall itself. Despite cursing and crying out, he tends my wound ever so carefully. He’s grimacing, too, like he’s experiencing the pain right alongside me.
In the middle of it, feeling his fingers squeeze and caress my thigh, I couldn’t help but wiggle.
“Hold still.” He’d given me a stern look that matched the tone of his voice, too. Squeezed my leg firmer, not knowing that it only made me want to squirm even more.
Thankfully, my suffering only lasts for a few minutes. No pain means he doesn’t have any reason to continue these reassuring strokes of his fingers, does he?
Once he’s carefully applying strips to close up the cut, he soothes the sting with the stroke of his fingers. There’s something about his touch that makes the pain a little more bearable. Especially when he’s making it impossible to focus on the sting.
“You took this far better than the men I’ve treated.” Looking up at me, he gives me another mini-smile to show off just howhandsome he can be. “The good news is, I don’t think your leg is going to fall off any time soon.”
“So I can go home now, Doc?” Giving him a smile in return, I watch as his disappears just like that. “Or is it not okay?”
He stands and works on cleaning up. “It’s good. I just…” He turns and looks toward the window. “The sun is going down. It’ll be gone before you know it.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he returns his gaze to my leg. “I could give you a ride down, sure, but I’d feel better keeping an eye on it.”
Is he… inviting me to stay? Is it crazy that I don’t want to say no?
