Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she casts around for an alternative.
“I don’t suppose I have much choice. The leasing office doesn’t open for another few hours, and it’ll probably take a locksmith at least that long to get here.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re not one of those unhinged creeps who kidnap women and lock them in a box under the bed, are you?”
I snort. “You think I’d tell you if I was?”
“Fair point.” She sighs and gestures for me to lead the way.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not a creep.” I grin, and it’s impossible to suppress a teasing lilt when I add, “But if I were, I’d be smart enough not to kidnap my next-door neighbor.”
She laughs, and it’s music to my ears. “Consider me reassured.”
We make our way around front in silence, but it’s just as well because who is this woman? Is she really Tink, or is she just a damn good lookalike? And how the hell do I ask without sounding like a complete asshole and alienating my new neighbor?
You could get McGinnis to feel her out.
Fuck that. I’m not letting McGinnis within a hundred feet of her. And I’m sure as shit not telling him about my night with Tink. I’d never hear the end of it.
I unlock the front door and push it open, allowing Maybe-Tink to pass me by. I follow her up the stairs to the main level, keeping my eyes glued to the heels of her sneakers.
She makes a beeline for the back door, and it’s a relief to see she’s not the least bit interested in scoping out the place.
That’s because she doesn’t have a clue who you are.
Whatever. A win is a win.
We step outside and she plants her hands on the wooden railing, as if she plans to launch herself across the narrow gap.
“Woah!” I gently grab her waist and pull her back. “I like the enthusiasm, but why don’t I go first, and then I can help you across?”
Maybe-Tink grins. “Still worried I’m going to break a leg?”
“Hell yes.” I hook a thumb toward the backyard. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“And yet,”—she gestures down the length of her body—”I’m perfectly fine.” Her brows knit together, and she turns her left palm face up. “Mostly.”
My stomach drops.
There’s a gnarly splinter buried in the heel of her hand. A smear of blood marks the entry point, and the surrounding skin is red and puffy. It’s completely inflamed, though it’s only been a few minutes.
If you hadn’t been so distracted by puck bunnies and perfect asses, this wouldn’t have happened.
Guilt floods my chest, and I silently curse myself for behaving like a jackass. I have to make this right. “Wait here.”
Before she can protest, I dart inside and grab the first-aid kit from the hall closet.
When I return, Maybe-Tink is leaning against the railing, her eyes closed and her head tipped back. She looks entirely at peace, despite the blistering heat.
I hate to disturb her, but that splinter has to come out. I shake the first-aid kit, and her eyes pop open when it rattles. “You mind if I take a look at that hand?”
Surprise washes over her features, but she nods.
“You really don’t have to do this.” She watches as I tear open a wipe and sterilize the tweezers. “Helping me get back into my apartment has pretty much solidified your position as neighbor of the year.”
“Pretty much?” A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I take her hand. It’s small and delicate, and unlike my calloused mitt, it’s smooth and unmarred. Maybe she’s thinking the same thing because her stare burns through me as I use a fresh wipe to clean the area around the splinter. “What would it take to guarantee the title?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her gaze drifts skyward, and I make my move. “You’d probably have to—Sweet baby Jesus!”
She jerks backward, but it’s all good because my work here is done. I hold up the jagged splinter, which is now pinched between the sharp tips of the tweezers. “Sorry, darlin’. That was a nasty little bugger.”