He laughs. “Oh.”
I grab the kit and pull out the necessary supplies. “I need your leg.”
“Um. Okay.” He turns, tucking one leg under as he lifts his right leg so I can reach it. His foot is braced on the middle console, and I pull it across my lap.
“Is this okay?”
Charlie makes a noise of assent as he leans back and closes his eyes.
Using gauze, I put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. The only sound in the truck is the heater and Charlie’s uneven breaths. After a few minutes, I check that it’s no longer bleeding.
“This might sting.”
He nods, and I wrap my hand around his ankle to keep it from moving. He sucks in a breath, and I wonder if he feels the same thing as me. My fingers tingle as I hold his leg with one hand and clean the scrapes with my other. His injury is mostly on the front of his leg. He flinches when I clean the area and add antiseptic ointment, so I tighten my grip on his ankle and focus on my task, not the feel of his skin. His ankle, strong but delicate. The soft hair under my fingers. Once I place the bandage over the wound, I tape it up.
“There. All done.”
He’s still not looking at me as he shifts so he can get his foot down. “Thank you.” He sneaks a glance at me, and I smile.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Yes.” But he laughs.
“So, Charlie…”
His smile drops. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We said everything that needed saying already. And if you’re going to apologize for the texts, don’t bother.”
I lean closer. “Just remember, I had no idea I was texting the wrong person. But you? Knew the entire time. And you never said anything.”
“That’s not— I was in the middle of a presentation.” He lifts his chin defiantly, and I want to kiss him. On his chin. His jaw. His mouth.
The air around us changes, and for a moment, I think he might let me. Not that it’s a good idea.
He shakes his head. “Thank you for your help.”
Then he hauls himself out of my truck, and I watch him until he’s in his car and driving away.
I need to get a handle on this. Charlie is way too tempting.
7
CHARLIE
Wednesday, January 7th
The phone won’t stop ringing,and I consider burying it in the broken filing cabinet in the corner of the office Raja and I share at the community center. But Raja’s eyes are on me, filled with quiet judgment, and I’ve already been in trouble once today.
Raja yelled this morning. And by yelled, I mean they used avery sterntone. Evidently, I need to go to the ER or urgent care if I’m injured on-site, even if I think it’s nothing.
“Charlie…” Raja says, sounding weary. “Please. Answer. The phone.”
I grab the receiver before it rings again, so my greeting might be a little snappy. “Chas Smith. Homes for Hope. Can I help you?”
“Hard day?” Gary, my project supervisor, sounds amused. “You called me first.”
