Page 8 of Mated to the Pride

“Okay, boss. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Blake!” said Jess, waving him off.

And with that, it was just us. I felt even more drawn to her now that we were alone, but I knew it wasn’t right to push it. I didn’t even want to. We had plenty of time to get to know each other better at our own pace — even if she made my stomach flip when she looked at me.

“Well,” she said. “I better get started on these dishes.”

“I can handle those. You cooked.”

“Absolutely not,” said Jess, snatching my plate away before I could carry it up to the sink. “This is what you’re paying me for, and it’s about all I can do for you.”

I pressed my hands together, giving her a sheepish smile. “Doesn’t feel right to sit here and watch you, though. You’ve got to at least let me help.”

“You’re providing company,” she said. “That’s how you can help. If you just- ah!”

My ears pricked at the sharp intake of breath, and I stood from the table to go to her immediately. She lifted her hands out of the sink, her left hand gripping her right. There was a nasty cut in her palm.

“Whoa,” I said. “What happened?”

“Sharp knife in the water,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Must’ve landed upright when I dropped it in the bowl.”

I reached across to drain the sink. Sure enough, a small, sharp cutting knife stood upright, wedged between a bowl and a pan.

“Clearly, I’m an idiot,” she said.

“No, no. Could’ve happened to anyone. You keep hold of your hand, okay? I’ll be back in a beat.”

“I can manage,” she called after me. “Honestly, I don’t need any fuss.”

“Listen,” I said, returning with my basic first aid kit. “I’m the medic, and the last time this team saw bloodshed it was because Preston got a paper-cut. Let me be useful.”

I was half-teasing, but the wound in her hand did actually look pretty nasty. If untreated, it could easily get infected — and it was definitely going to hurt tomorrow, especially if I didn’t bandage it up correctly.

“Here,” I said, guiding her to the table. “Come sit down. I’ll clean and wrap it.”

“Do I have to?”

“And here I was thinking you’d be a model patient,” I said, taking a seat beside her. I opened the kit and dabbed a little cleaning solution onto a cotton pad. “Fair warning. This is going to sting a little.”

“I can take it.”

She winced as I applied the solution, dabbing it carefully around the wounded area. There was a lot of blood, but thankfully the cut wasn’t as deep as it looked. The blade had gone into her hand at an angle, and thankfully missed anything that could have caused real damage — her tendons or her muscles, for example.

“Almost done,” I said, giving it one last wipe. “Alright. Sorry about that.”

“You’ll notice I didn’t complain,” she said. “I’m a big girl.”

“I did notice. You could’ve been forgiven for cursing like a sailor,” I said, laying some gauze over the cut. “I know what that stuff feels like.”

“Maybe you’re just a big baby.”

I grinned at her. “Probably, yeah.” Though she smiled back at me, I could see that a little color had faded out of her cheeks. Jess was strong, but clearly it hurt more than she was willing to show. I made sure to keep my touch gentle as I bandaged her up.

“There we go. My medic skills aren’t a waste after all.”

A few moments later, I realized that I hadn’t let go of her hand. Nor had she pulled it away. Not thinking, I traced my thumb gently over the top of the bandage. Had it been skin to skin, it’d have been a feather-light touch — probably ticklish.

She swallowed, and the color returned to her cheeks.

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