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"Back off!" one of them yells.
Jake, nursing his jaw, raises a hand to stop his troop. "That’s enough, boys. Let's go."
He glares at William one last time. “I stand corrected. Looks like you deserve each other.”
After he disappears with his troop, I fly up to William raising my finger at him in an accusatory fashion. "What the heck was that?"
William is panting, his knuckles red. "Someone needed to put him in his place. He had no right to talk about you like that."
“Jake is a jerk… but you didn’t have to hit him,” I shoot back, trying to ignore the teeny tiny version of myself doing the conga in my head.
There’s just something about a macho man fighting for a woman’s honor that gets me all excited.
Now I can’t decide whether to slap him or grab his jacket and pull him in for a kiss.
William drags his hands through his hair as he tries to catch his breath. “Well, I’m going to call the Boy Scouts. Parents will not be impressed to find out their troop leader goes around insulting women in the woods.”
I open my mouth to argue but notice the light reflecting off the red droplets now dripping from William’s hand.
“You’re bleeding!” I announce in horror.
“It’s nothing,” William says, but he winces when I take his hand.
I grab a stack of napkins and press them on his messed-up knuckles. “Come on, I’m sure there’s a first aid kit back at the house.”
Back at the estate, I lead William into the kitchen, where the fading sunlight casts long shadows across the room.
His hand is still bleeding slightly, and I can't help but feel a pang of worry as I clean his knuckles with gentle precision.
"It's just a scratch," he insists.
I finish wrapping the bandage round his hand and without thinking, I lift his knuckles to my lips.
“My mom swears that if you kiss it better, you heal extra fast,” I say, before a wave of sheepishness enters my soul and part of me wants the ground to swallow me up.
But William’s eyes twinkle at me in the dim kitchen. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, a chill enters the house as the sun disappears behind the trees.
"We should light a fire in the living room," I suggest, eager to bring some warmth back into the day.
William nods in agreement.
I lead the way to the fireplace, determined to show some competence.
William watches with a mixture of amusement and admiration as I grapple with the fireplace.
I'm crouched down, poking at the kindling with a determination that's starting to wane. I strike another match, but it fizzles out as quickly as my hope of getting a fire started.
"Maybe it needs some encouragement," I mutter, blowing on the unlit wood as if my breath could ignite it.
William chuckles from behind me. "Perhaps it responds to positive affirmations?"
I glance back, shooting him a playful glare. "Dear fire, you are hot, strong, and some would say… smokin’.”
William snorts behind me, but I ignore him.
Despite my best efforts, the fireplace remains cold and unresponsive.
