Page 31 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
It has the knot in my chest easing just a bit. “Yeah, I was terrible back then.”
“You’ve come a long way, it seems. I’m happy for you. You went to school, right?”
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, turning her attention back to the pot. “Yeah. Culinary school.”
The movement’s small, almost nervous, when her shoulders draw up close to her ears.
The air between us feels heavier now, charged in a way I can’t—shouldn’t—think about.
I clear my throat, about to excuse myself before I make things weird, when she yelps and jerks her hand back from the pot.
“Ow, fuck!” she hisses under her breath, cradling her fingers to her chest.
I’m at her side in an instant. “Let me see.”
“It’s fine,” she protests weakly, trying to hide her hand from me.
“Holly, come on.” I take her hand gently despite her resistance, inspecting the reddened skin across her knuckles.
My thumb brushes over the burn before I realize what I’m doing.
It’s already swelling, the angry mark from where she touched the hot surface blistering. “You need cold water on that.”
Guiding her to the sink, I run the cool tap over the burn, holding her hand carefully in mine when I do so.
She’s tense, her shoulders even more rigid than before, but she doesn’t pull away.
I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, her shoulder brushing my arm and her hair smelling faintly of sugar and vanilla.
Close enough to feel her warmth radiating through her clothing, enough for dangerous thoughts to creep in.
Thoughts Ishouldn’tbe having.
Fuck.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to take a step back.
“Hold that there for a minute. You should start feeling better. The trick is to keep it cold so you internal body temper doesn’t keep cooking the skin.”
I don’t even know what I’m babbling on about, the words continuing to spill out of me even as I try to force my lips together and clamp my jaw shut.
“Thanks,” she says softly, still not quite meeting my eyes.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling about ten kinds of awkward. “I’ll…go check to see if we’ve got a spare first aid kit. Burn cream should help.”
Her lips twitch, like she wants to smile but isn’t sure if she should. In a twisted way, I know exactly how she feels. “Okay.”
I quickly retreat out of the kitchen, my body flush in a way that has nothing to do with the warmth of the cabin.
Back in the living room, Reece already has blankets and a pillow laid on the couch, one of the ends tucked into the back of it to make it look freshly made.
He glances up as I come in, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. “You good? You look sweaty.”
“Fine,” I mutter, heading down the hall to the bathroom to check under the sink for the med kit.
But I’m not.
Not even fucking close.
