Page 70 of Faking Forever
“Oh myGod,” she gasped. “That’s awful. Did they give you a tetanus shot? Antibiotics?”
“They?”
“The attending physician,” she clarified, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the caginess in his body language. His hand, however, remained in her grasp even though he could easily have pulled it away by now.
“Smith?” she prompted. “What did your doctor say?”
“I didn’t go to the doctor.”
“What? So who removed the hook? One of your fishing buddies?” Not ideal, but his friends were mostly competent guys.
“I was alone. I pulled it out. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“What?” She heard the dismay in her own voice as she once again assessed the wound, carefully checking for any signs of infection. While it was slightly warm to the touch, it did appear to be healing nicely.
“That was incredibly foolish, Smith,” she reprimanded. “Going fishing alone, for starters. And then tending to a potentially serious wound without consulting a doctor. You should at least have consulted a doctor about after care. What were you thinking?”
“Kenna.” His voice was annoyingly, condescendingly patient. As if he were speaking to a child, not a trained surgeon. “It was a shallow wound caused by a barbless hook. Easy enough to remove. I cleaned it thoroughly, slathered it with antibiotic ointment, and took a couple of ibuprofen. It hurt like a bastard for a few hours, but it’s mostly fine now.”
She glared down at the injury, her thumb tracing gentle circles around the wound.
“Had you caught any fish with that particular hook?” She was still concerned, and jumped a little when his free hand cupped her jaw and gently tilted her face upward to meet his eyes.
“The only thing I caught that day was my own damned self,” he told her with a reassuring smile. “I’m a lousy fisherman, actually. Harris and Greyson are constantly raving about how great the fishing is at that spot and when I found some fishing gear at the cottage I thought I’d give it a go. I just… I needed to get out of my own head for a while. I thought it would be a good way to let off some steam.”
“When did it happen?” she asked, still absently tracing her thumb over the lines in his palm. But that was okay, because his own thumb was restlessly scalding spellbinding runes onto the sensitive skin of her face. Leaving calamitous trails of fire in its path.
“On Monday,” he told her.
“After you left here?” she asked and he nodded. The gesture added more weight to her already overburdened heart and her eyes flooded. “So this is my fault?”
“No, sweetheart, this is entirely on me.”
The familiar endearment just about destroyed her. It had been so,solong since he’d called her that. She’d always found it a little incongruous. Too saccharine. A little embarrassing.
And yet…
She’d also always melted a little every time he’d used it.
And she now recognized how much she’d missed hearing it. He had all but stopped calling her that after their wedding.
They were still touching each other. At this point it was almost compulsive.
Necessary.
And Kenny didn’t believe she was in any way capable of stopping anytime soon.
Smith seemed to be facing the same dilemma. Neither of them wanted to end the contact, but both of them knew that it was either end it or deepen it.
And that was dangerous.
“Where did you go?” he asked, a helpless, anguished note in his voice.
His question confused her. She wanted to reply, but wasn’t sure what he meant. And she worried that asking for clarification would shatter the breathless spell that had been cast within the confines of this little bubble.
Instead, she nuzzled her cheek into his palm and lifted his other hand to her lips, planting a soft, lingering kiss onto his injury.
His breath snagged at the contact and he groaned quietly.
