Page 62 of The Desire

My arm is now throbbing, and if I had clean hands and the right first-aid supplies, I would have fixed it by now, but instead, I’m pacing the front room of the house waiting for the car to appear from the tree-lined entrance. Finally, I hear the crunch of tires in the gravel coming up the driveway, faster than I would like. She needs to drive more carefully, I don’t want anything happening to her. I’ve not been getting my body beaten by Cherie to work off my frustration of having to stay away from Elouise for twelve months only to have her taken from me before we even start. I think I’m going to need an Academy Award at the end of this for the performance of a lifetime. I’ve been fooling everyone including myself that I’m not falling for Elouise.

The car comes to a halt in front of me, and El jumps out of the car, racing around to where I’m standing.

“And that’s why I got you a driver.” My frustration of waiting for her bubbles over at the way she came to a screeching stop.

“Rem, what the hell did you do to your arm?” Her hands are on me, and she’s looking at me like I’m dying when it’s just a flesh wound, the blood making it look worse than it is. “Wait, what did you just say about my driving?” It’s like her hearing just caught up with her brain reacting to what she was seeing.

“Nothing,” I grunt at her, not wanting to get into an argument right now.

“Hmmm.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Now start talking, what did you do?”

“I’m fine, just a little cut that I need you to clean up and dress if you have anything we can use. I couldn’t do it because my hands are dirty, and I can’t find anything to sterilize them from God knows what old germs I have touched today in this building.”

I might not be telling the truth about how big the cut is with the way my arm is aching now. Either I sliced it deeper than I thought or there is a piece of wood from the jagged door still in the cut. Whichever it is, I’ll just get El to fix it and we can get on with the day. There is no way I’m spending time in the hospital waiting for hours for them to look at me like some pathetic wimp who needs one single stitch or just one of those bandages that are shaped like a butterfly.

“Let’s get inside and see what I can find in my little first-aid kit in my suitcase.” She places her arm around my waist. “Do you need help, are you feeling dizzy or anything?”

“I’m not useless. It’s just a scratch. Walk,” I bark, pointing in the direction of the door. I know I’m being a bit sterner than I need to be, but I don’t want to be treated like one of her kids.

Glaring at me, she turns and heads inside by herself, without another word to me. As we both enter the foyer, she just points to the first chair inside the sitting room and looks at me. “Sit.” And with that, she takes the stairs two at a time.

“It’s just a fucking scratch,” I yell up the stairs but still find my feet are moving toward the sitting room, and my ass is planted on the seat by the time she comes into the room again. Just like she told me to.

“Then why are you acting like such a growly bear, if it’s nothing?” Unzipping the little black square bag, she flips it open and lays it in my lap, positioning herself on my left side next to my hurt arm.

“Damn, woman, should I be worried about why you have a fully stocked hospital-grade first-aid kit with you? Are you that clumsy you constantly need all this shit?”

“I ought to punch you right now for that insult, but I don’t want to hurt you anywhere else. And who is the clumsy one here, hmm? For your information, it was packed for Blaise before I knew he wouldn’t be here. Now shut up while I fix this.” She starts to unwrap my shirt off my bicep, and the funny thing is that even though she is looking at my arm, her eyes keep going to the side to look at my bare chest. I’d actually forgotten that I was without a shirt because I was preoccupied with her. The way she frustrates me and makes my blood run hot at the same time.

“Doubt a punch from you would hurt me.” But it wasn’t the punch I should’ve been worried about. “Fuckkk, watch it.” I grit my teeth as she rips off the shirt without an inch of care.

“Suck it up, tough guy,” she snaps back at me while she is looks at the wound and rips open the little sterile wipe sachet. I have to clench my fist as she continues to wipe it with the alcohol wipe because it stings like a bastard.

“I beg to differ that it’s a small scratch, Rem.” I’m sure that is her teacher voice that she is scolding me with.

The look on her face tells me she isn’t happy with me, and the rough way she is tending to my arm is showing me the same thing.

“You still haven’t told me how you did it.” The fresh and not-so-gentle wiping of the cut has it now bleeding again. “And I’d really be happier if we went to the hospital to check if you need stitches. Pass me that gauze.” She points to a packet in her Mary Poppins first-aid bag.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and not a chance. No hospital. Just patch it up,” I growl as she presses down on the gauze to stop the blood again and places some adhesive tape over the top of it.

“When was your last tetanus shot?” she snaps at me.

“Two years ago. I’ll be fine.” That’s one thing I’m good at, remembering details.

“Fine.” She steps back from my arm. “You’re a stubborn ass, aren’t you.” Collecting the kit off my lap and placing it on a table nearby, she picks up my shirt off the ground and throws it at my chest as I stand.

“If it’s taken you this long to work that out, I’d call that a slow learner.” I’m finally feeling a little less off kilter now that the cut is sorted and El is back by my side. I hated suggesting she head into the village alone, but I can’t keep her attached to my side twenty-four seven while we are here. I have work to do, and she would kill me if I even tried it.

“Don’t even try to joke about this. Why are you trying to be the big tough guy? What if you get an infection? Or blood poisoning? Hmmm?” She’s got her hands on her hips as she is still mad at me and trying to chastise me for not getting it looked at.

“You know how cute you look when you do that?” I take a step toward her, but she is already stepping backwards to get away from me.

“No, no, no. You don’t get to say that.” And I can see I’m already breaking the anger in her, and there is that spark in her eyes that she gets when we are dipping our toes into the murky water of what is between us.

“Why not, I’m just stating the truth.” I take a bigger step this time.

“Because we have a rule. No flirting, and you’ve already broken it today. Twice!” Trying to appear strong, I can tell she weakens the moment she makes the mistake of reaching forward and poking her finger into my chest to make her point.

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