Page 42 of Love Overboard
“Nothing. Let’s get back to the ship.”
The two ran through the crowded streets and along the lengthy pier. Lacey’s knee throbbed, but she kept pace with Ricardo. They reached the entrance to the ship as a large group of passengers was making their way aboard.
“Can I leave you here?” Her date bounced on his toes as he tipped his head at the boat. “Chef hates it when I’m late.”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Her knee called her a liar, but Ricardo bought it. He bolted up the gangplank, pushing past the people in his way. Lacey’s shoulders sagged, and she grabbed hold of the railing as she hauled her way on board. Her feet hobbled, the tiny heels sticking in the grated metal floor. She bent and yanked the torturous stilettos off. Her pants legs dragged along the incline. Once inside the ship, she limped her way to the nearest sitting area, tossed the shoes to the floor, and sank on a velvet-cushioned bench with a whimper. She surveyed the hallway to be sure no one was around and pulled her pants leg to her knee. An angry red patch with jagged gashes stared back at her.
“At least it’s not bleeding.” She poked the scrape and winced.
“Bleeding?” Jon appeared out of nowhere and knelt. “Let me see.”
“No, no.” Lacey lifted off the cushion and waved both hands like a pair of frenetic windshield wipers. “I’m fine.”
“Your knee disagrees with you.” Jon gently pushed her onto the bench and squinted as he grabbed one of her waving hands. “Your palm disagrees too.” He examined the skin and pointed to the deep welts left by the unforgiving road. “Is this your definition offine?”
“It’s no big deal.” Lacey averted her eyes.
Jon hovered in front of her, but she studied the golden carpet. He dropped her hand, rose to his feet, and left without another word.
Lacey watched him disappear around the corner. “That’s it?” She pulled her drooping pants leg back up to inspect her wound. “It’s not like I’m dying or anything, but you could at least say ‘goodbye.’”
She searched in her purse for something to dab at the scrape but didn’t find so much as a tissue in the tiny clutch. Lacey jumped as a white plastic box dropped on the bench beside her.
Jon bent to open the first aid kit and pulled out several items. Cotton balls, disinfectant, and bandages formed a sterilized pile. “Let’s start with the hand.” He knelt once again.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to—”
He ignored her as he tore open an antiseptic wipe, grabbed her palm, and dabbed it with the wet cloth.
Lacey stared at his glossy brown hair as he worked.
He tugged the pants leg a little farther past her knee and scrutinized the ugly spot, which was already developing a purplish tinge around the vivid red center.
“This might sting.” He took a small brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bench and covered a cotton ball with the pungent mixture.
Lacey sucked air through her teeth as the medicine hit her skin and burned the open wound. The liquid bubbled into a tiny white foam over the cut. Jon rested his free hand on the side of her calf, leaned forward, and blew softly. His breath hit the fiery patch and cooled the tingling sensation.
Too bad it couldn’t cool the full-blown blaze his lean fingers on her leg caused. It was like someone poured cooking oil on a gas range. The flames leaped up and threatened to toast her insides.
“I … I think it’s okay now.” She brushed his hand away and stood. Her trouser slid to her ankle, covering the still-stinging wound on her knee.
Jon rose from his kneeling position, his trademark smile missing. “You’re sure?”
“Mm-hmm. Thanks to your quick attention. I didn’t know you had medical training.” She tried to joke away the awkwardness hanging between them.
“Vacations with my nieces.” He concentrated on packing the supplies in the first aid kit. “There’s always plenty of skinned knees when those three get together.”
“Three? I thought you had two nieces.”
“My sister added another one since the last time we worked the same ship.” He turned to her with the kit at his side.
The awkward silence returned while they stared at each other.
“I forgot things change,” Lacey said.
“Some things.” He tilted his head and eyed her French twist. “You never wear your hair down anymore.”
