species.
To dispel the sizzle of attraction, she pulled latex gloves from her first-aid kit and moved around the table. He spread his legs and she stepped between them to reach the bandage. She could feel the heat of his thighs brushing against her legs and her pulse quickened. It had been much easier to tend his wound when she’d been too exhausted to react to all the testosterone.
After carefully checking the stitches, she taped fresh gauze over them and pressed it in place. She worked in silence but felt Lamanto’s steady gaze on her face. He didn’t look toward his shoulder or watch her hands, only her face. She kept her expression and tone bland, but her nerves began to prickle.
“It’s healing nicely with minimal seepage. It feels a little hot to the touch, so I’ll get you more ibuprofen.” Stepping aside, she peeled the gloves off her hands and threw them in the trash. Reaching back into her kit, she realized her hands were trembling. It bruised her professional ego.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the pills and washing them down with the glass of water she offered. When he started to pull his shirt back on, Keri realized his good hand wasn’t too steady, either. She took the shirt from him, turned it right side out and then helped him get back into it. The shirt was big enough to ease his bad arm into it as well.
“It’s getting colder in here. I’ll get a fire started, but you should be warm enough in bed.”
He frowned. “I can’t just go to bed if you need help.”
“I don’t want help. I have everything I need and plenty of experience doing what needs to be done.” Right now, she wanted space so she could breathe without inhaling the scent of him or move without feeling the heat of his gaze. “Go back to bed.”
Lamanto slowly nodded and rose from his chair. She followed him into the living room.
“I’ll rest on the couch.”
“Bed,” she insisted tersely.
“Is your nickname Ratchet?”
“I’m a damned good nurse.”
Lamanto kept mumbling and grumbling, but he went into the bedroom without more argument. She heard the squeak of the old bedsprings and sighed.
The sound of the storm had lessened. Keri looked out the window to see wildly blowing snow. Giant flakes whirled, creating a blinding curtain of white, obscuring trees still laden with leaves. A chill coursed over her and she realized how much the temperature in the cabin had dropped.
After kindling a flame in the fireplace, she put some logs on to burn and busied herself in the kitchen. First the dishes because she couldn’t stand having dirty dishes in the sink. Jack called her obsessive. She preferred order in her life. Trauma nursing led to chaos in her career, so she controlled her personal life as best she could.
Next she braved the weather to finish unloading her SUV. Finding Lamanto amongst her supplies had kept her from collecting everything last night. It took a few trips, but she gathered extra clothes and bedding without getting it all soaked.
Once she’d done that, she moved back to the kitchen. As she started unpacking a box of grocery staples, an image of her mother popped into her mind. A mature version of the image she saw in the mirror each day. Her dear, loving, devoted mother; her empathetic cohort in a testosterone-filled household. Her mother had doubled as a parent, a friend and the sister she’d always wanted.
A sob caught at her throat and tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. “Mom,” she whispered quietly. “I miss you so much.”
It had been more than two years now, but the grief still ambushed her, the pain as fresh as the day she’d awakened from a coma to learn her mother had died in the crash that nearly killed her too. Her chest tightened as she choked back the tears. It was still hard to think of her mom without hurting.
Elaine Merritt had been a good-natured, generous person who loved cooking and caring for her family. Her mom had insisted on packing baking
To dispel the sizzle of attraction, she pulled latex gloves from her first-aid kit and moved around the table. He spread his legs and she stepped between them to reach the bandage. She could feel the heat of his thighs brushing against her legs and her pulse quickened. It had been much easier to tend his wound when she’d been too exhausted to react to all the testosterone.
After carefully checking the stitches, she taped fresh gauze over them and pressed it in place. She worked in silence but felt Lamanto’s steady gaze on her face. He didn’t look toward his shoulder or watch her hands, only her face. She kept her expression and tone bland, but her nerves began to prickle.
“It’s healing nicely with minimal seepage. It feels a little hot to the touch, so I’ll get you more ibuprofen.” Stepping aside, she peeled the gloves off her hands and threw them in the trash. Reaching back into her kit, she realized her hands were trembling. It bruised her professional ego.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the pills and washing them down with the glass of water she offered. When he started to pull his shirt back on, Keri realized his good hand wasn’t too steady, either. She took the shirt from him, turned it right side out and then helped him get back into it. The shirt was big enough to ease his bad arm into it as well.
“It’s getting colder in here. I’ll get a fire started, but you should be warm enough in bed.”
He frowned. “I can’t just go to bed if you need help.”
“I don’t want help. I have everything I need and plenty of experience doing what needs to be done.” Right now, she wanted space so she could breathe without inhaling the scent of him or move without feeling the heat of his gaze. “Go back to bed.”
Lamanto slowly nodded and rose from his chair. She followed him into the living room.
“I’ll rest on the couch.”
“Bed,” she insisted tersely.
“Is your nickname Ratchet?”
“I’m a damned good nurse.”
Lamanto kept mumbling and grumbling, but he went into the bedroom without more argument. She heard the squeak of the old bedsprings and sighed.
The sound of the storm had lessened. Keri looked out the window to see wildly blowing snow. Giant flakes whirled, creating a blinding curtain of white, obscuring trees still laden with leaves. A chill coursed over her and she realized how much the temperature in the cabin had dropped.
After kindling a flame in the fireplace, she put some logs on to burn and busied herself in the kitchen. First the dishes because she couldn’t stand having dirty dishes in the sink. Jack called her obsessive. She preferred order in her life. Trauma nursing led to chaos in her career, so she controlled her personal life as best she could.
Next she braved the weather to finish unloading her SUV. Finding Lamanto amongst her supplies had kept her from collecting everything last night. It took a few trips, but she gathered extra clothes and bedding without getting it all soaked.
Once she’d done that, she moved back to the kitchen. As she started unpacking a box of grocery staples, an image of her mother popped into her mind. A mature version of the image she saw in the mirror each day. Her dear, loving, devoted mother; her empathetic cohort in a testosterone-filled household. Her mother had doubled as a parent, a friend and the sister she’d always wanted.
A sob caught at her throat and tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. “Mom,” she whispered quietly. “I miss you so much.”
It had been more than two years now, but the grief still ambushed her, the pain as fresh as the day she’d awakened from a coma to learn her mother had died in the crash that nearly killed her too. Her chest tightened as she choked back the tears. It was still hard to think of her mom without hurting.
Elaine Merritt had been a good-natured, generous person who loved cooking and caring for her family. Her mom had insisted on packing baking
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