Page 240 of The Maxwell Brothers
We stood side by side. I stretched out my forearm, resting it against the cold granite. "Oh, this feels good."
"I’ll disinfect it first." He sprayed it, then rubbed it a bit. It tingled, but not too much—more in a soothing way. "Want it bandaged?"
“Yes. I think it’s necessary.” I’d need it covered for bartending later this evening.
He applied an ointment on the burned skin, from my forearm down to the heel of my palm. Declan was very meticulous. His gaze was fixated on my hand, and his fingers moved with dexterity once he starting rolling the bandage on.
I couldn't help being overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all.I have it bad. This man was doing absolutely nothing inappropriate, yet I couldn’t keep my mind out of the gutter.
Oh, Liz. How can you even be attracted to him? He's a first-class asshat. He’s waiting for you to move out.
The mind was a complex thing. Besides, it was safe to have sexy daydreams about my landlord,preciselybecause he wasn't interested in me.
" You're all set," he said.
"This looks so professional. How do you know how to do this so well?"
"I'm the oldest of six. We pulled a lot of shit in our time. I've had enough practice with my five brothers—and myself on rare occasions."
"Color me impressed." Although I couldn't see him getting up to no good. I had no doubt he kept his brothers in line.
And just like that, his hotness score skyrocketed even more. For no apparent reason. Maybe that wasn’t strictly true. Him sharing tidbits about his family definitely rubbed me the right way.
He trained his eyes on me. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
"At four thirty?"
"It’s almost five."
Was this a peace offering, or was he feeling sorry for me?
"I can't. I have a shift starting at six."
He frowned, looking straight at me. "You said you just came from a shift."
"I have two and a half jobs," I said proudly.
"Half?"
"Yeah. One of them is part-time. I work for a catering company. I cook in the morning. Sometimes they need me to help them serve the food at lunch if it’s a bigger order. And from six to midnight, I’m a bartender.”
"How many hours a day do you work?"
"All in all, about sixteen. I only sleep five to six hours. I don't need more. And in between, I dance my ass off when a certain landlord isn't trying to break down my door."
He said nothing, just looked at me with those intense eyes, like he was seeing me for the first time.
“That’s a lot of hours. Especially for physical work, being on your feet the whole time.”
I shrugged. “It’s not forever. I’m planning to open my own bakery soon but haven’t found the right location yet.”
I simmered in my spot. Damn, how could he be so sexy when he was brooding?
"That burn won't get better if you keep using your hands."
"It’s on my arm.”
"Yes, but when you move your hands, you’re going to brush your forearm against things too. It’s inevitable.”
