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“I did,” I tell him. “I couldn’t decide if you deserved alcohol or peroxide.”
“Kitten’s got claws,” he practically drawls, and I try—and fail—to ignore the heat that rips through my body.
“I’ll start with your knuckles,” I tell him and kneel in front of him, holding his hand over the bowl of water to rinse away the debris.
“Sorry,” I say when he winces with pain. Quietly, I work on his inked up knuckles, allowing myself time to get used to this nearness, to touching him before I look at his face.
“Okay, this might sting.”
Shades pulls his hands away. “What the hell is it?”
“Don’t say hell,” I chide with a gentle smile. “It’s liquid plaster. A liquid bandage so you can still move your hands.”
“Okay. Cool. Thanks.”
I say nothing, and when I push off the pew to stand, he takes my hand and helps me up. “Oh. Thank you.”
He smiles, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s gorgeous. And the colorful tattoos I can see make me want to see the ones I can’t.
“Somethin’ wrong, Letty?”
Why did he have to pick now of all times to use my name?
“Green.” I blink at the asinine word that falls from my lips. “Your eyes,” I rush on, “I just forgot how green they were. Very vibrant.” I clench my jaw tight to avoid saying something more ridiculous.
He bats his eyelashes at me and flashes a wide grin. “So, pretty, eh?”
I smile, and my shoulders relax. “Thanks for that.”
“For what?” His dark brows dip in confusion.
“For alleviating my embarrassment.”
I probably should have said something else, anything else really, that wouldn’t give away the fact that he makes me nervous.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. My buddy’s fiancé is always going on and on about my eyes. When she can see them. Says it’s unfair.”
“It totally is.” I laugh and dab at the split skin on his brow. “Who did this to you?”
“Some not-so-friendly church goers.”
“No,” I gasp, eyes wide and full of shock.
“No,” he acknowledges. “Some assholes who could only get the best of me in an unfair fight.”
I blink, unsure if I should believe him or not. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”
He smiles. “That’s not turning the other cheek, is it?”
“Well, no,” I stammer. “But that’s what I believe, not you. Is it?”
He winces as I dig gravel from the open wound. “Not me at all, but I served with plenty of religious folks. I know all your lines, Letty.”
He grins and looks up at me. The strange feeling I have deep in my tummy is concerning.
Stop it. Stop it now.I can admire a man’s gorgeous eyes without wanting anything more. Without it meaning anything.
“Thank you for your service, Shades.”
