His smile turns knowing.
“Eyes up, sweetheart.”
I glare at him because it is either that or combust. “Chair.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That should not do things to me.
It does.
He sits at the small kitchen table while I gather the kit from the counter. The cabin looks different in daylight. Warmer. Lesslike a shelter from the night and more like a secret place tucked away from the world. Pine trees crowd the window. Sunlight falls across the floorboards.
I wash my hands, pull on gloves, and stand between Ace’s knees.
His legs spread to make room for me.
I try not to notice.
I fail.
“Bandage off,” I say, mostly to keep myself breathing.
He watches my face while I peel the tape back.
The wound is angry but clean. A few stitches strained, but none torn. Blood has seeped from one edge, probably from the way he held me last night.
My heart gives a funny little twist.
“You should have slept on your other side.”
“I did.”
I glance at him.
His expression is shameless. “Then you moved closer.”
My cheeks burn. “That is not a medical excuse.”
“No. It’s just the truth.”
I clean the blood gently. His skin is warm under my gloved fingers. Too warm. Too alive. The memory of touching him without gloves flashes through me, and suddenly the room feels smaller.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Some.”
“Some means?”
“Hurts.”
I look up. “Thank you for that stunning display of honesty.”
His mouth curves. “Trying to impress my nurse.”
My hands pause.
My nurse.