Stalling, Rainey towel-dried her hair with rough scrubs, combed it out, and then strategically loaded her arms with her backpack and shoes so she could dash with some modesty to the bed and dive under the covers. She opened the bathroom door to find Jacques on the little couch with his guitar in his lap and Archie curled up at hisside.
And when he looked up at her, his eyesbugged.
“Thanks for takinghim—”
“You’re bleeding,” Jacques’s startled announcement halted her sprint to the bed, and she froze in front of him. He pointed down to her shin, and when Rainey followed his gaze down to her leg, she saw that her makeshift bandage must have fallen off while she dressed, and now a lurid streak of blood painted herleg.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered, and she wheeled back in the direction of thebathroom.
“Hang on. I have a first-aid kit,” he said, getting to his feet. “Put your stuff down and sit on thebed.”
Rainey stood immobile for a moment as Jacques rifled through his duffel bag, but then she took the opportunity to dump her belongings at the foot of the bed and grab a pillow before sitting asinstructed.
Once she did, she hugged the pillow to her chest, covering her flimsy tank top. Jacques emerged from the living area with a small red pouch bearing the iconic white cross, but he stopped when her saw her pose, his browknitted.
“You afraid it’s gonna hurt?” he asked, nodding at the way she clutched her pillow. Rainey’s cheeks prickled withheat.
“Oh, no, I…” She paused, grasping for what to say. “…I know you won’t hurtme.”
At this, Jacques’s brow drew up in a look of surprised gratification, and he gave the faintest of nods. Her words hung between them with unintendedsignificance.
“You just remember that,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed near her legs. He opened the kit and began rifling through its contents, and it was only then that she realized he could have just as easily handed it to her and let her tend to the cut on her own. But that clearly was not Jacques’s intention. He tore open an alcohol wipe and began delicately cleaning the spreading streak ofblood.
“I can’t believe you have a first-aid kit,” she said, talking to blunt the intimacy the moment forced on them. “I didn’t realize you were such a BoyScout.”
She watched his mouth quirk as he opened a tube of antibiotic cream and applied it to a cottonswab.
“Oh, yeah,” he deadpanned. “I’m full ofsurprises.”
And then one of his hands grasped her gently under the calf, steadying her leg. She could feel the heat of his palm and every finger. He leaned closer to her cut, his breath tickling her skins. Rainey’s breath stuttered inresponse.
“Hold still. I’ll be gentle,” he murmured, mistaking her response for nerves orsqueamishness.
With the lightest of touches, he painted the cut with the ointment, his eyes narrowing in concentration on the task. Watching him was almost hypnotic, his feathery eyelashes, the strong bridge of his nose, the honeyed glow of hisskin.
He was sobeautiful.
Rainey’s trance was broken when he sat back, tossed the swab in the trash, and peeled open the bandage. He bent in close again and gently pressed it against her cut, smoothing down the tabs with hisfingertips.
“There. All better,” he said, a wry smile on hislips.
“Thank you, Dr. Jacques,” she said, her light tone belying the way his touch and attention had softened her from head to toe. When was the last time someone else had dressed a cut forher?
After he returned the first-aid kit to his side of the room, Jacques stepped back with a small bundle in hishand.
“Gonna take a shower. I won’t belong.”
He didn’t lie. The water ran for all of four minutes. And by the time he emerged from the bathroom three minutes after that, Rainey had switched on the TV, grabbed her crochet work, and was safely tucked under the covers with a clear view of the bathroom door. It was the perfect spot to watch him fill the doorway in a white T-shirt that clung to his every sinew and a pair of gray, drawstring shorts, the bottom half of his legs and his feet seductively bare. Her crochet hook stilled in herhand.
She should pull her eyesaway.
Rainey knew this, but she couldn’t even begin to fathom how. Instead, she watched him cross the living space until he disappeared behind the partition, and her heart plummeted. Before she knew it, words flew out ofher.
“Want to watch some TV withme?”
He poked his head out behind the partitioned wall. “Sure. Whatchawatchin’?”
They both eyed the TV. Whathadshe been watching? The car insurance commercial gave her no clue. And even though she sat dumbly, Jacques still walked into the room and stretched out on the bed opposite hers, his long legs claiming its length and crossing at the ankles. He took two of the bed’s pillows and stuffed them behind his neck as he leaned against the headboard, and Rainey realized hermistake.
