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Izzy laughed softly, and Hawk smiled as well. Once they were alone, he said, “One day I’ll learn the story of why J.R., a boy from the Bronx who became a French-trained chef from LeCordon Bleu in Paris, is working in a biker bar deep in the Virginia mountains.”
She adjusted herself to sit higher and gave him a half smile. “When you find out, let me know.”
Hawk opened the first aid kit to check the contents. Color was coming back to her cheeks, and the tea would perk her up. “I’m going to unwrap the towel, but I want you to focus on something else in the room.” He met her gaze again, making sure she followed his directions.
She nodded, stared at her unwounded hand, and wiggled her middle finger. Then she shifted her gaze, over his shoulder, to a poster of a dog riding a motorcycle. It was an old ad for a brand of Virginia bourbon that no longer existed. Probably because it tasted like cat piss.Speaking of cats, Vixen slunk from beneath Tish’s desk and jumped on the back of the couch. She curled up on top of the cushions, not far from Izzy’s head.
Izzy whispered, “Hey, sweetheart.”
Vixen purred in return.
“Vixen doesn’t like anyone, but she’s taken a liking to you, darlin’.” He put on a pair of disposable gloves he found in the kit, held Izzy’s wounded hand, and began unwinding the towel. “Now focus on that poster.”
She shifted in her seat. “Okay.”
A moment later, he unwrapped the towel and dropped it on the floor. Then he put the bowl of water on the couch, next to her bare thigh. Her shorts were so short, especially now that she was seated on the couch with her apron up around her waist, his intense imagination shifted into overdrive. He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused on his task instead of the miles of firm, smooth skin laid out before him. Skin he’d once explored with complete abandon. Gently, he placed her hand in the bowl of water and washed away the blood and dirt.
“How is it?” Her scratchy voice was one step above a whisper.
“Not bad.” Now that her hand was in the water, bits of glass sank to the bottom of the bowl. Without the grime and blood, he could see the largest piece of glass. The tip embedded in her palm was small and not deep enough to warrant stitches. With one firm tug, he pulled out the shard. Some blood followed, and he swished her hand around.
She grimaced, but kept her gaze on the poster across the room. “How do you know so much first aid?”
“I’m former military. I also have many, many brothers—both real and acquired. Injuries that require basic first aid are kind of an ongoingthingwith us.”
She chuckled until he lifted her hand out of the bowl and pressed one of the clean towels against the wound. Then she grimaced again.
“Sorry. This won’t take long.”
The cat moved closer to Izzy’s head, and she closed her eyes.
J.R. appeared, this time by kicking open the door and carrying in a tray with the tea mugs and another bowl of water. He placed everything on the desk. “What do you want first?”
“Hand Izzy a cup of tea. Then bring over the water. You can take this dirty water bowl and dump it.”
She opened her eyes, shifted on the couch, and held out her other hand to J.R. “Tea actually sounds nice.”
Hawk smiled at her. “My mama swore by it.”It didn’t take long to rinse her hand in the clean water. Then he pressed a dried towel to her palm and raised her hand above her heart level while she drank her tea.
J.R. patted Izzy’s shoulder and found the dirty water bowl. Meanwhile, Hawk laid out the bandages and antibiotic ointment he needed. “I don’t think you need stitches. But I am going to use a butterfly bandage before I wrap it up. Then we need to figure out the antibiotic situation.”
She sipped her tea, released a deep inhale, and gave him a weak smile. “I don’t normally drink tea, but this tastes good.”The cat jumped off the couch and disappeared beneath the desk. “Vixen has to be the saddestcat I’ve ever known.”
“She’sjust shy,” J.R. said as he headedtowardthe door with the water bowl.
Hawk snorted. “It’s obvious neither of you know anything about cats.”
“Whatever.” J.R. shrugged. “Once you’re done in here, VP, you’re in charge out there. Or I will quit this time.”
“You always say that.” Hawk found the white medical tape and scissors. “But you never leave.”
“This time I pinky swear.” He balanced the bowl with one hand so he could flip his middle finger to the room. Then he disappeared into the hallway.
“I don’t think J.R. understands the concept of pinky swear.” Izzy smiled at him. “Thanks for the tea. It’s delicious.”
The change in her mood eased the tightness in Hawk’s chest.”My mama always gave us hot tea whenever we were injured. The hot water and sugar work as a temporary distraction from the pain and can give you a small hit of energy without the caffeine jitters you get from coffee. Now, slowly lower your hand.”
She sipped her tea while he unwrapped the towel. The cut had stopped bleeding, but he still used two small butterfly bandages and a shit ton of antibiotic ointment before wrapping it in layers of white gauze and taping it all up. “How does that feel?”
