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He has a can of anti-bacterial and shakes it. “This might sting a little.”
He sprays it on, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Fuck. That’s more than a little, Dash.”
He runs his fingertips soothingly along the inside of my thigh and blows where he put the anti-bacterial, cooling my knee, sending goosebumps up my leg and right to the apex between them where my core grows heavy and my clit tingles. I don’t even need him to touch me to unravel me. My cheeks flush. But he’ll probably pass it off as pain.
“Sorry, I had to do that.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though I don’t want him to stop running his finger along my skin the way he is. I don’t want him to stop blowing. My gosh, it feels good to be touched like this.
I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. I hardly ever bothered my mom when I was younger if I was bleeding. I remember being really little, scraping my knee, and there were no Band-Aids in the house, so I used toilet paper to stop the bleeding and left it overnight. I woke the next morning, a scab had partially formed around the toilet paper, and I ripped it off. It started bleeding all over again. But I still didn’t ask my mom for help. If she wasn’t at work, she was napping, and I didn’t like to trouble her.
Still when I analyze my past, I focus on the good things that have come from it. And not wanting to bother my mom has made me very self-sufficient. I always thought of it as a superpower. A strength. It is. It really is.
Even so, watching Dash’s thick fingers delicately dab some gauze around my knees to dry the remaining spray, hardly touching it each time, blowing to dry my knee ever so slowly so he won’t hurt me, has my lids stinging. Everyone deserves a little tenderness sometimes. Only now am I seeing that many of the times I was beingstrong, telling myself to suck it up, I actually denied myself grace. And he’s giving it to me; being so careful even though I did him wrong.
And that’s all part of the enigma that is Dashiell Hunter. He exudes disapproval with his dismissive posture, but he couldn’t be more caring. He encourages me at work. The cake. The boots. The bandages. Nobody’s ever really taken care of me before. I was bound to fall for the first guy who did. But that’s not what this is, and I need to remember that.
Dash stopped us from going farther in the Valley.
It’s not the same for him as it is for me. Even though watching him dab my skin for the fiftieth time, staring at my leg like it’s the most precious thing in his life right now, could make a girl think otherwise. When he’s done cleaning my wound, he tosses the gauze on the table, leans over meagain,and I so want to comb my fingers through his boyish brown waves.
I am so impossibly, bone-deep attracted to this man, and every time I deal with him he surprises me. On the outside, he’s gruff, standoffish, and can be brutally direct. But on the inside… he puts sterile strips on a woman who only went and snooped on him.
Which I need to address. I had no intention of getting caught when I went off to find this Mustang Valley and watch him in the night. But I suck at lying so I should have known better. This was inevitable. My mouth goes dry. “I’m sorry, Dash. There’s no good reason I should have been where I was tonight.”
Shame rushes through me. I don’t deserve to be stitched up when I invaded Dash’s privacy, something he clearly cherishes.
He doesn’t glance up from my knee. “How did you know where I was?”
Fuck. This could create serious issues between us. Maybe he’ll fire me. But I won’t lie to him. “I went in your room tonight.”
I expect him to stop helping me, stand and fly off the handle, but he peels another strip from the clear plastic tab and applies another. “And why did you do that?” His voice is low, coming from deep within his chest. As always, not a single word betrays his emotion.
I can’t tell if he’s mad, but it doesn’t change what I have to say anyway. “I was curious.” It’s roundabout, but still the truth.
“About what?”
I reach deeper. “About you.”
He stops applying the strips and stares at my knee. “Why would you be curious about me?”
Is this my punishment for breaking the rules? He’s going to humiliate me into admitting the truth? Well, I deserve it. “You intrigue me.”
“Mmm.”
His response is an acknowledgment, yes, but puts me on total high fucking alert because now he knows. He knows I think about him even when he’s not around, and that? It’s a huge confession.
Dash sticks the last sterile strip into place, silently, not giving me even an inch of… well, what do I expect? Reassurance after I snooped through his things like an untrustworthy liar?
He traces a finger gently along the side of his medical handiwork, and my skin exhales at his gentle touch. “I’m impressed you told the truth.”
My breath stops. Isn’t he mad?
Frankly, I’m impressed I told the truth, too. Dash isn’t scary exactly, but he has a very alpha and edgy dangerous thing going on that keeps you on your toes and not wanting to cross him. But he’s never been anything but nice to me, not really, apart from nearly depriving me of this job.
“Are you mad at me?” I have to ask. I need to know outright or I’ll wonder forever.
