“I can stay.” She swiped at both cheeks.
Lacy walked over, scowling at Damon. “What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing,” he said, holding his hands up.
“It’s not him. I was thinking about my dad. I’m fine now.”
Lacy waited for Damon to head back to the guys still in the booth before she spoke. “Go home, girl. Get your beauty sleep. Tomorrow you’re done with this cat and mouse game.”
“Am I the cat or the mouse?” She laughed, the rest of her tears drying up.
“I have a feeling you’ll start off as the cat until he gets his feet underneath him. I’m going to bring you that skirt, so wear a shirt that goes with black leather and be prepared.”
“I can’t do this. I’m going to embarrass myself.”
Lacy gave her shoulders a small shake. “No, you won’t. It’s time to force the point with him.”
“I haven’t known him very long. Like three days. That’s not long enough to even think he’d be interested.”
“Doesn’t matter. When it hits, it hits. Those flashbangs are some of the best relationships you’ll ever experience. Good night, girl.”
Ella moved out from behind the bar and met Damon at the front door. Without any hesitation, he took her by the hand, walking out the door and to his car around the side.
“I’m okay. Promise.”
He opened her door, not replying.
With ahumph, she sat down. When he started the car, she told him again. “I’m not a wimp. Sorry. It’s thinking about my dad. I haven’t slowed down enough to think about him. Or talk about it.”
“It’s fine. But you don’t have to do it in the middle of a nearly empty bar at two in the morning.” He drove to the apartment and parked, once again holding her hand as they went to his apartment.
“I want to change the bandage on your finger.”
“And I can change yours. Do you want to take a shower?”
He lifted his eyebrows and pushed open the door. “Absolutely.”
Ella laughed. “I meant, do you, alone, want to shower? I can change the bandage after it.”
“Worth a shot. Your finger first.” He led her to the bathroom, cleaned, and rebandaged her finger. “I know you like wine, but there’s a good bottle of bourbon in the kitchen if you’d like a drink. I’ll be out shortly.”
“Okay.” She found the bottle and poured a small glass before relaxing on his sofa and kicking off her sneakers. She sipped her drink. The warmth of the bourbon burned down her throat to her belly, and she closed her eyes. And simply existed.
For the few minutes the shower ran, she listened to the water and thought of absolutely nothing. It was incredible.
“Not asleep, are you?” He walked in, wearing a pair of sweatpants low on his hips, shirtless. He brought new strips with him. “After this, they should be good for a few days. But I wanted to change it after this first shower.”
She took the bandages and knelt at the end of the sofa. “Turn,” she said, trying to focus on the task and not his body. She peeled off the old strips. Luckily, he had facial tissue right there. She dabbed at the small trickle of blood. “Sorry.”
“Why? It’s my cut. I assumed it might bleed.”
“I think you need stitches.”
“I’ll get them if it’s still bad next week.”
“Such a guy.” She taped him shut, pressing the tissue there until the bleeding stopped. “There. Excuse me if I don’t kiss your boo-boo.”
He smirked.