Page 61 of Holiday Hostilities

“No. But I’ve suffered through many over the years—your brother is obsessed with them.”

“I am, too,” she says. “My guilty pleasure.”

She lowers her eyes, letting them rake over my chest and torso. Not gonna lie, her gaze on my skin feels hotter than the soup. “Second degree burns or not, you’d better get a cold compress on that.”

“Right after I clean this up.” I gesture to the mess surrounding me.

“I’ll help,” she replies. And this time, I accept.

A few minutes later, I’ve picked up all the shards of what was previously my favorite bowl, and Olivia’s mopped up the floor. It occurs to me that this is the second time in the span of a month that Olivia Griswold and I are in my house together, cleaning up.

Talk about being domestic. Normally, I’m not home enough to do this type of thing.

We head into the kitchen, where I deposit the last shards in the trash, and I nod at the pot of soup. “Help yourself. I’m gonna grab a clean sweater.”

Olivia’s eyes find my bare chest once again, and she points at one of the stools beside the counter. “Sit.”

I raise a brow. “Is that an order?”

“Yes.” Her gaze is unwavering.

“I’m used to giving the orders, not taking them,” I say with a smirk.

“Sit your ass in the chair, Marino.”

I sit my ass in the chair.

“Good boy.” She smiles in satisfaction and I have to laugh at her smug expression. “Where do you keep the clean cloths?”

“Second drawer on the left of the sink.”

She opens the drawer and retrieves a couple of cloths, and as she runs them under the faucet, I realize what she’s doing. “Ah, that’s not necessary, Liv. I’m a big boy. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Your skin is currently rivaling a tomato’s.” She tuts as she comes to stand in front of me. “You ready for this?”

I skeptically eye the cloth she’s holding towards me. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yup. I’m trained in first aid as part of my job.”

I give a little nod. And so, she gently places a cloth on my chest, smoothing it out so it hugs my pecs.

I inhale sharply—more so at the sensation of her hands moving across my skin than anything else. I’m glad when she winces, misinterpreting. “Ooh, sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Not at all.”

I sit stock still as she smoothes another cloth over my shoulder, and a third on my ribs. The cool cloths feel amazing on my hot skin, and I try to hold my breath so I don’t audibly inhale again. Or breathe in her sweet-smelling body wash and shampoo.

Or do something completely insane like grab her and kiss her…

I can’t believe how consuming the thought of that is right now.

I blame the damn shower.

“There. All done.” She steps back, and I let out a sigh that’s equal parts relief and frustration.

“Thank you, Olivia.”

“You’re welcome.”

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