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Hope looked down. He was leaning against her doorframe and standing on one foot. His surf board was propped up against the siding of the cottage. Wasn’t it fairly early in the season to surf? She frowned at the sight of so much blood. “Wait a second. Let me get a towel.” She ran down the hall and rummaged in the closet for a towel. She grabbed it and ran back to the door.
She thrust it at him. “Wrap your foot in the towel and come inside,” she instructed, waving him on in. She really hoped he wasn’t a serial killer. She normally wouldn’t have invited him inside, but she couldn’t very well ignore a person in trouble. He hobbled inside the cottage, immediately dwarfing the premises with his large size.
“Sweet place you’ve got here,” he said, wincing as he walked.
On pure instinct, Hope reached out and grabbed him by the arm, guiding him toward one of the chairs in the kitchen. By the time they reached it, he plopped down onto it with a loud groan. Out of breath herself, Hope reached for his leg and propped it up on the other chair.
“Can I take a look?” she asked.
“Be my guest,” he drawled, sucking in a breath as she unwound the towel.
“Oh my goodness.” The words slipped right out of Hope’s mouth. The cut was still bleeding and it was fairly deep. It also didn’t look very clean. It seemed as if sand had gotten into it. “Does it feel like something is in there?”
“Yes, it does. I tried to pull it out but I think I only pushed it in deeper.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to hold this towel against the wound to try and stem the bleeding. I’m going to go get my first aid kit.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said with a grunt.
Hope got up and peeked her head in the living room. Ella was making baby noises and playing peacefully with a toy. A sharp feeling seized her chest. Never in a million years had she ever imagined feeling such love for another human being.
She dashed off to retrieve the first aid kit, returning after a few minutes of scouring her medicine cabinet. She was out of breath when she returned. “I’m back,” she said, placing the kit down on the counter. She reached out and took the towel away from his foot. The bleeding had slowed down some but still continued to flow.
“This might hurt a little bit,” she warned as she took a cotton ball and swiped some alcohol on it. She then pressed it against the cut.
He let out a strangled cry and began muttering under his breath.
“I’m sorry but I had to do it. I need to make sure it won’t get infected and part of that is getting the glass out or whatever is in there.”
“Probably glass,” he said, breathing in and out sharply. “People are so selfish with our national treasures. They treat beaches like dumping grounds. Have you ever seen those videos about the poor birds with the plastic around their necks? It’s enough to make you sick.”
“I agree,” Hope said, grazing her finger over the cut. She could feel a sharp object prickling her finger. Before resorting to her tweezers, Hope tried to extract it with her finger.
“Ouch. Take it easy, Florence Nightingale.”
Hope swung her eyes up, a sharp retort at the end of her tongue. One look at his face changed her mind. He was clearly in agony, no doubt due to her attempts to take out the piece of glass.
“I’m trying,” she said in a curt voice. “Doing my best.”
“Sorry,” he said, his expression sheepish. He sure was attractive.
Focus, Hope. The man needed his foot back minus the piece of glass.
Hope turned and reached for her tweezers. She held them between her fingers, ready to conquer the piece of glass.
“Hey!” he cried out sharply. “What is that? What are you doing?” He began to wiggle in his seat.
“Don’t move,” she said in an authoritative tone. “It’s a pair of tweezers to take out this foreign body from your cut. If you’d rather I didn’t I can point you toward the hospital.”
“No. No hospital. I want you to do it. Go ahead.” He squeezed his eyes shut and began to count to ten.
Hope manipulated the tweezers so that she was under the little flap of skin and tugging lightly at the piece of glass. She applied a little pressure and pulled. The little chunk of glass slid out. “Whew!” Hope said, holding it up so he could get a view of what she’d extracted from his foot. “It’s a considerable size too. Take a look.”
“Wow,” he said. “Thanks for helping me out.” He ran a hand through his chin-length dirty blonde hair. Yep. This guy was a bona fide hunk. She didn’t want to stare but he really was an attractive man.
Hope held up a hand. “Wait. You’re not done yet. I still have to put some bacitracin on it and cover it with a bandage.”
“Whatever you say,” he said with a pearly grin. Hope looked away from him and focused on patching him up so he could be on his merry way. She was wary of handsome men like this surfer who had the chiseled features of a male model and the laid-back attitude of one who didn’t have too many worries in life. He probably just blinked and women came flocking in his direction. She let out a sigh. Been there, done that. Her beautiful Ella was living proof of how foolish she had once been over a gorgeous smile and flattery.
