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“Fine?” He sat back. “You’re bleeding, and it’s going to get infected. And besides, the jeans are ripped anyway.”
“I can rip them on the other leg, and they’ll be fashionably distressed.”
“Okay, then. Take ’em off so I can patch you up.”
“I beg your pardon?” That was polite me sayingno fucking wayto asshole him.
“I’ll show you.” He unbuckled his belt and started undoing his pants.
“I don’t need a demonstration. We’re not playing I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Get a grip, Lerner.” His mouth turned up into a wicked grin. “Wait… Are you going commando?”
“No,” I shot back, though a blush formed at the idea that, free of Kevin, I could now, if I wanted.
He pulled his jeans down and turned away. “This is what happens if you don’t let me take care of it.” He yanked down one side of his boxer briefs, and put a finger low on his hip. “See that?” He had several ugly black streaks below the roughened skin of a scar.
A gasp escaped me.
“This is what happens if you don’t get the grit out. I slipped on gravel just like that when I was young. I was stupid and hid the scrape from my parents. By the time anybody knew, it was too late, and I’ll carry this scar forever. Is that what you want, or are you going to let me help you?”
I breathed in deeply for confidence and, shyness be damned, unbuttoned my jeans.
He pulled his pants back up and opened the first aid kit.
After toeing off my shoes and slipping out of the jeans, I waited with my knees clasped together. What was there to be self-conscious about? I had full panties on, not a thong. Hell, my underwear covered a lot more than the bikinis the girls wore at the lake.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were an engineer,” he said as he dabbed at the scrape with a cloth he’d wet with alcohol.
I pulled back from the sting. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
He kept dabbing at the wound, and then switched to a fresh cloth. The old one had darkened with my blood. “Want to tell me why you’re down here?”
“Taking care of Grace’s dogs,” I answered between winces.
“I’ll be right back.” He went to the kitchen.
And yes, my traitorous eyes watched him as he walked away.
He returned with a stainless bowl and picked up the tweezers. “This may hurt.”
“May?”
“Okay. It will. Feel free to scream.”
I gritted my teeth and willed my vocal cords to shut down.
It did hurt, but Boone’s gentleness as he pulled pieces of gravel out of my wound was touching. There was something about the man being able to lift me like a feather one moment and choosing gentleness now that made my ovaries sigh.
Cut that shit out, Angela. He’s still a prick.
Yeah, but a handsome, Butt God prick. And, my God, his strength?
I sucked in a breath as he jabbed deep with the tweezers.
He’s probably doing that on purpose, the prick.
Painful jab with the tweezers, clink of gravel into the bowl, dab with the equally painful cloth, glance up at me looking for tears, and repeat, again and again.
