Josh disappears for a moment, returning with the small box in his hands. He sets it on the table and the smell of antiseptic makes me flinch, but I focus on not letting him see how flustered I am.
“I’m okay, really,” I protest weakly, fumbling for the words that don’t make me sound like a damsel in distress.
He kneels slightly, his hands expertly tending to my burn. I feel the heat of his fingers against my skin and try not to shiver. I’m just grateful the boys are home. For months I’ve made sure never to be in a room alone with the man I can’t seem to resist.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, eyes locking on mine with that impossible intensity. “Relax. I’ve got this.”
I swallow hard. I want to argue, to tell him I don’t need him hovering over me, but the truth is, part of me wants exactly that. The closeness, the care, the way he makes me feel wanted… alive.
But I have more than me to think about.
I take a shaky breath and pull back. “I really am fine. You don’t need to…do this.” I glance at my son. “It’s okay, Josh. Go get started on your homework.”
He shrugs and a moment later his bedroom door clicks shut. I turn back to Tuck, who’s examining my hand like it holds all the answers to the universe.
“It’s not too bad, but we need to get this under cold, running water.” He gently pulls me to my feet and I dig in my heels.
“I can call Gina.” She might own the café now, but when she was in California—unknowingly involved with a married man who happened to be my husband—she was a practicing nurse.
“I’ve got this, Maria.” He guides me to the sink and turns on the cold water.
“So you’re a nurse now, are you?”
“No but when I was a kid, I played doctor.”
“Tuck,” I murmur, as he stands behind me, his body pressing against mine, as he turns the tap on low and puts my hand under it. It does little to cool the burn in my body.
His voice is as shaky as my body, when he asks, “Does that make it feel better?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
God, just the sound of his voice—his tender touch—makes everything better. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. It does make one part of my body ache and that part is deep between my legs.
Lord help me.
Nothing but the sound of the water, and my heart pounding against my ribs fills the space, and when a soft moan catches in my throat he turns the water off and guides me back to my chair. I drop into it, staying perfectly quiet and he sits next to me. Our knees bump.
“Oh, sorry. This kitchen it’s so small.”
And getting smaller by the moment.
“It’s okay.” He doesn’t move his knee, instead he opens the first aid kit.
“Someday I’d like a bigger kitchen, a bigger home.”
“You like cooking? Even after working in the café all day?”
“I do. I’d love a big executive kitchen.” My laugh is gravelly. “Honestly, I love cooking for people. I guess it’s my love language.” His fingers linger on my flesh and I struggle not to concentrate on his touch. “Do you like to cook?” Before he can answer, I blurt out, “Oh right. I remember that pasta salad you made last summer.”
That brings on a small chuckle.
“So you’d like to get a bigger place?” he asks.
I nod. “The boys are bigger now and we’re really starting to outgrow this space. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Gina lets us stay here, but someday.”
Stop rambling, girl.
“This bigger place…you’d stay in Boston?” he asks.
