cabinet. “Are you okay?” he asks me.
“Yeah. It just hurts.”
“I’m sure it does. This isn’t going to feel any better. Let me look at it; I won’t do anything without telling you first, okay?”
Removing the towel, I place my hand in his. He looks at the wound and then at me. “Jesus, Bridge, that’s a deep cut. No wonder it hurts.”
“I can’t look at it.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to pour some peroxide on it. This may sting a little, but not for long.”
“I trust you,” I say and feel the cool liquid run over my finger. Then he gently pats it dry.
“You probably could use a stitch or two, but if you can keep it dry I can use surgical glue instead.”
“Whatever you think is fine with me.”
“It’s gonna burn, so take my hand, I want you to squeeze the shit out of it.”
I glance at him as he places my hand in his lap. Instantly my finger begins to burn when he starts to apply glue. Sonofabitch, it fucking hurts. I bite my bottom lip and squeeze his hand as hard as I can. After a few moments, the pain subsides, soothed by him blowing on it. I look at him and watch the care he takes with repairing my injured finger.
“Are you this good with all of your patients?” I ask.
“Nope, only you.”
I glance at my finger. The cut is closed and the bleeding has stopped. I watch as he applies another coat and blows again, this time he looks into my eyes. After a minute he rubs my finger on his bottom lip and then tenderly kisses it. All the while his eyes never leave mine. I realize then that we’re still holding hands as he intertwines our fingers.
My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry with wantonness. “Bridge, are you okay?” Cara asks as she comes down the wooden stairs with her heels clanking.
Troy places one more kiss on my finger before letting go of both of my hands. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say to her as she rounds the corner and comes into view.
“Nothing a little surgical glue couldn’t fix,” Troy says as he wraps a Hello Kitty Band-Aid around my wounded finger.
“Seriously, Troy?” I ask.
“What? It’s all we have.”
“That’s such a lie; there are other Band-Aids right there.” I point into the first aid kit he’s closing.
“Now you are going delusional, woman. Let’s get you some food and I believe you ordered Tuaca for tonight.”
We all laugh and head upstairs. I can’t help but smile looking at the pink Band-Aid covering my finger. And then thinking of his lips, when they delicately kissed my finger, and the look in his eyes – there’s something about that look. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s there.
“Troy, maybe you should just carry her to the car,” Cara says, as I try to focus on looking between the two of them.
“I’m fine,” I interject and push myself off of the kitchen counter. As soon as I move, I regret it, losing my balance. Troy steadies me.
“You, my lady, are most definitely not fine. Hop on,” he says and turns his back to me.
I hesitate for half a second and then wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his body. As he stands, I can’t help noticing how hard his muscles are, and how his warm hands wrapped so possessively around the sensitive skin of my thighs feels…so right.
“Hold on tight, Bridge.”
“I told you I’m fine,” I argue back, resting my cheek on his back as we begin to move. Each stair bounces us and he carries me as if I’m weightless.
We make it down before Cara and Abel. They’re still at the top of the stairs wrapped up in one another. Approaching Cara’s car, Troy sets me down and then stands turning to look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
I nod my head, feeling everything begin to spin. Focus, Bridgette. “Thank you for the ride.”
“The first one’s free, but I’ll have to charge you next time,” he jokes.
“How much?” I slur, trying to concentrate on his face.
“Let’s get to next time and I’ll tell you,” he says pulling
“Yeah. It just hurts.”
“I’m sure it does. This isn’t going to feel any better. Let me look at it; I won’t do anything without telling you first, okay?”
Removing the towel, I place my hand in his. He looks at the wound and then at me. “Jesus, Bridge, that’s a deep cut. No wonder it hurts.”
“I can’t look at it.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to pour some peroxide on it. This may sting a little, but not for long.”
“I trust you,” I say and feel the cool liquid run over my finger. Then he gently pats it dry.
“You probably could use a stitch or two, but if you can keep it dry I can use surgical glue instead.”
“Whatever you think is fine with me.”
“It’s gonna burn, so take my hand, I want you to squeeze the shit out of it.”
I glance at him as he places my hand in his lap. Instantly my finger begins to burn when he starts to apply glue. Sonofabitch, it fucking hurts. I bite my bottom lip and squeeze his hand as hard as I can. After a few moments, the pain subsides, soothed by him blowing on it. I look at him and watch the care he takes with repairing my injured finger.
“Are you this good with all of your patients?” I ask.
“Nope, only you.”
I glance at my finger. The cut is closed and the bleeding has stopped. I watch as he applies another coat and blows again, this time he looks into my eyes. After a minute he rubs my finger on his bottom lip and then tenderly kisses it. All the while his eyes never leave mine. I realize then that we’re still holding hands as he intertwines our fingers.
My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry with wantonness. “Bridge, are you okay?” Cara asks as she comes down the wooden stairs with her heels clanking.
Troy places one more kiss on my finger before letting go of both of my hands. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say to her as she rounds the corner and comes into view.
“Nothing a little surgical glue couldn’t fix,” Troy says as he wraps a Hello Kitty Band-Aid around my wounded finger.
“Seriously, Troy?” I ask.
“What? It’s all we have.”
“That’s such a lie; there are other Band-Aids right there.” I point into the first aid kit he’s closing.
“Now you are going delusional, woman. Let’s get you some food and I believe you ordered Tuaca for tonight.”
We all laugh and head upstairs. I can’t help but smile looking at the pink Band-Aid covering my finger. And then thinking of his lips, when they delicately kissed my finger, and the look in his eyes – there’s something about that look. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s there.
“Troy, maybe you should just carry her to the car,” Cara says, as I try to focus on looking between the two of them.
“I’m fine,” I interject and push myself off of the kitchen counter. As soon as I move, I regret it, losing my balance. Troy steadies me.
“You, my lady, are most definitely not fine. Hop on,” he says and turns his back to me.
I hesitate for half a second and then wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his body. As he stands, I can’t help noticing how hard his muscles are, and how his warm hands wrapped so possessively around the sensitive skin of my thighs feels…so right.
“Hold on tight, Bridge.”
“I told you I’m fine,” I argue back, resting my cheek on his back as we begin to move. Each stair bounces us and he carries me as if I’m weightless.
We make it down before Cara and Abel. They’re still at the top of the stairs wrapped up in one another. Approaching Cara’s car, Troy sets me down and then stands turning to look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
I nod my head, feeling everything begin to spin. Focus, Bridgette. “Thank you for the ride.”
“The first one’s free, but I’ll have to charge you next time,” he jokes.
“How much?” I slur, trying to concentrate on his face.
“Let’s get to next time and I’ll tell you,” he says pulling
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