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She batted her eyelashes at him. “Ghost stories.”
He fought back a grin. He’d always liked that she never took crap from anyone. His gaze honed in on her knee again. “Wait right here.” He walked over to his truck to get the first aid kit he kept in the glove compartment, then crouched in front of her to inspect the cut on her leg.
She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you—oh, no need to go all Florence Nightingale on me,” she squeaked, realizing what he was about to do. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re bleeding all over the parking lot. My parking lot, remember?”
“My parking lot. My building. You sound like a two-year-old. Is there anything here that isn’t yours?”
He decided to ignore that and instead moistened a piece of gauze with antiseptic then pressed it against her knee.
“Hey! That hurts.” She tried to pull away, but he secured her leg by placing his other hand firmly behind her calf. Her skin felt firm and smooth. What had she said earlier? That she’d gotten a warm and fuzzy feeling inside the building? Yeah, he was feeling pretty warm and fuzzy, too. But it didn’t have anything to do with any bogus ghost.
“Hold still,” he said.
“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.” A thin line of blood oozed from beneath the gauze. She gulped, then quickly looked away.
He pressed tighter to staunch the flow. “Still can’t stomach the sight of blood?”
She whipped her head around. “How did you remember—never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” he said, catching her eye.
Then she started doing that thing she did whenever she got nervous. She began to talk non-stop. She asked him about his parents, his older sister, Katie, who was married and now lived in Daytona Beach, his grandparents, his aunt and uncle. She asked about his entire family. Except the most obvious member.
“How’s Brandy doing? Still stealing food from the garbage can?”
“Brandy’s dead.”
“Dead?” She looked stunned.
“She was a beagle and twelve years old when you knew her. So, yeah, she’s been gone awhile now.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she muttered. Then she cleared her throat and finally asked, “How’s Lauren? I was sorry to hear about your divorce.”
Was she really sorry? Or just being polite? If anyone had a right to gloat over his failures, it was Allie. He could hear the unasked question in her voice. What happened to your marriage? He’d been asked that a lot lately, but he never gave anyone a straight answer. It was nobody’s business but his and Lauren’s. He considered telling Allie the truth. But she hadn’t asked out loud, and besides, what was the point? In the end, he picked the easiest response. “Thanks. And Lauren’s fine.”
“And Henry?”
“He’s eleven and grows about an inch a day.”
She smiled.
He finished bandaging her knee, then stood and faced her. The parking lot was dark but there was enough light from the nearby road that he could see her cheeks were flushed. A result from her line of questioning? Or had she been affected by his touch? The same way he’d been affected by touching her.
Rusty came back from his cruiser looking like he’d swallowed a hornet. “Um, Allie, did you know your license has been suspended?”
“What? No.” She laughed nervously. “Run it again, Rusty.”
“I already did,” he said miserably. “Three times.”
“But that’s impossible. I’d know if my license was suspended, wouldn’t I?”
“Not exactly. Happens all the time. Think back. You get stopped by a cop recently?”
“No—well, I did take a right on a red illegally. But the sign was so out of the way, I mean, really, anyone would have been confused. And the cop was just so dang nasty. Not nice, like you would have been, Rusty.” Rusty rewarded her flattery with a smile. “I gave him my license but I couldn’t find my proof of insurance, but…I mean, I do have insurance and I told him that, but he still tacked on another fine. I paid the ticket so everything should be cool. Right?”
“Did you go to the courthouse and show them your insurance papers?” Tom asked.
