She continued with the repetitive task of carrot chopping, glad she’d chosen to spend the day with Jackson in this sort of silent reflection. No one would have ever called them friends before, but they’d slipped into an easy—if quiet—camaraderie over the past six months or so.
The door opened and Gabe walked in. Eve promptly sliced right into her thumb. “Shit!”
“What happened?” Jackson barked.
“Are you okay?” Gabe asked at the same time.
Before she could blink, she had two large men backing her into the corner, both their heads bent as they examined her bleeding thumb. She looked from almost-black hair to reddish brown. The color of the strands wasn’t the same, but the texture was.
She grimaced. “I’m fine, really.”
Gabe grabbed a towel and took her hand from Jackson’s. His touch was gentle as he wrapped the towel tight. “Doesn’t look like you need stitches at least.”
Jackson straightened. “No, it’s not too deep. Stay here. I’ll go get a first-aid kit. I think I saw one in the bathroom. Gabe, can you keep an eye on the pot on the stove while I’m gone? Turn the heat off if it starts to boil over.”
“Sure,” Gabe said, and blessedly moved away from her. “Keep pressure on that.”
She tightened the towel around her thumb. “Yup.” The sight of the red staining the white towel made her vaguely nauseous and she leaned against the counter, closing her eyes.
They flew open when he cupped her elbow. His face was close to hers. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and straightened, trying to not succumb to the light-headedness. “Yes, I’m fine. I—I don’t like the sight of blood.”
He cocked his head. “But you came to the shop with your friend because she didn’t like the sight of blood.”
“What?”
“Years ago, remember? You said you accompanied Madison to the shop when she was getting her tattoo for moral support.”
No, it was to stare at you.
Wait, though. She hadn’t told him that Madison didn’t like the sight of blood. Madison had told him that. All those years ago.
He remembered a random meeting that well?
Her heartbeat accelerated, though she tried to calm it. This only meant he had a really good memory for his clients. “It’s my own blood. I’m okay with other people’s.”
His forehead cleared. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’m okay. I won’t look at it.”
“Hey.”
She fixed her gaze over his shoulder and waited, but he didn’t continue. After a moment, he grasped her chin and gently tipped her head so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. A little annoyed her trick hadn’t worked on him, she jerked her face out of his grasp, and he didn’t press her.
“I’m sorry I ran out like I did yesterday.”
She scoffed, though her heartbeat picked up. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
“I do. You...” He hesitated. “This is different, Eve.”
Don’t overreact. Don’t read anything into this.“Different how?”
“I’m not sure.” He lifted his shoulders. “The thing is, I don’t know how to be anything but casual with anyone. That’s what everyone says, at least, and I suppose it’s true.”
There it was. The shot of hope and the brush-off. She didn’t want to deal with the sting of rejection right now. She tightened the napkin around her finger, until the pressure hurt. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”
His eyes darkened. “Do you?”
