The coolness seepedthrough her skin and chased away the burning sensation from moments before. She turned to face him. “That feels good.”
“Focus on that while I look at your hands and arms.” He lifted her arms and placed them on his lap.
She leaned back against the chair and sucked in a sharp breath when he picked up a pair of tweezers from the side table beside the bed. “What’s that for?”
“You have some stones and debris in your cuts. I need to get it out.” Her muscles stiffened and she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. “Trust me, okay?”
“Wait, do you have a mini bar in here?” She glanced around the room and searched for the tiny fridge that usually came in every hotel room. She needed a little liquid courage.
The lopsided grin that always made her weak in the knees hitched up on his face. “What’s your poison?”
“I’d kill for another margarita, but I’ll settle for tequila.”
He stood from the bed and walked across the room to the fridge. She kept her eyes glued to him and focused on his high and tight ass as he leaned forward instead of the ominous tweezers lying beside her. Glass clattered together until he pulled out two small bottles and turned to her with a triumphant smile. “Tequila for both of us.”
“I’m not sure I want you drunk while holding a deadly weapon to my damaged skin.”
“If one shot of tequila gets me drunk, we’ve got bigger problems to deal with.” He winked and she shook her head with a laugh. “Do you want a glass? Or are you going to take this like a champ?”
She lifted her hand in the air and grinned. “Like a champ.”
He tossed the miniature bottle toward her and she snatched it out of the air. “That’s my girl.”
Warmth spread down to her toes, edging out the pain in her hand from catching the bottle. His girl? She’d only known him a short time, but the idea of being his made her stomach do cartwheels. Heat invaded her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the floor.
Graham’s feet padded toward her until they came into her line of vision. His fingers lifted her chin until her eyes locked on his. Concern etched fine lines in the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
A small smile lifted her lips. “Nothing. Let’s get this over with.” She unscrewed the cap of her bottle and hoisted it in the air. “Cheers.”
Clinking his bottle to hers, he smiled and then lifted the small bottle to his lips.
The tequila burned her esophagus as it trickled down her throat. The warm liquid pooled in the pit of her stomach and she took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
Graham nodded and sat down opposite her on the bed. He placed her arms on his lap and her muscles tightened. “I’ll be as gentle as possible.”
The cool metal pressed against her tender flesh and she jerked away. A strong hand clamped down on the crook of her elbow, pressing her arm back down. Tears filled her eyes and she bit into her bottom lip and looked away.
“What’s your favorite song?” Graham asked.
Her head whipped around and she faced him again. “Excuse me?”
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Why?”
A husky laugh rumbled from him and skimmed over her. “It’s not like I asked about your stance on gun control. I want to know your favorite song.”
A million songs popped into her head. Not one stood out as her absolute favorite. “I don’t know. Anything by Journey I guess.”
Graham focused on her arm, the tweezers poised above her skin, and hummed a few bars of a song. The metal pressed against her skin and she sucked in a sharp breath. His griptightened and he croaked out the first verse of one of her favorite songs.
She smiled through her tears as his voice cracked to the words of “Don’t Stop Believing.” “You’re a terrible singer.”
“Lucky for you I make a better medic.”
She concentrated on the words and the horrible tone of the melody as he sang. Every time he pressed the tweezers to her palms and her muscles tightened, his voice cracked even more, making her laugh. By the time he’d finished butchering the song, all the dirt had been cleaned from her cuts.
“Thank God that’s over.” She slunk low in the chair while Graham wrapped her arm with a beige bandage.
