As she held that endlessly blue gaze, a slice of pain ripped up her finger, and the knife clattered to the counter. “Shit!” Immediately, she brought her uninjured hand to her mouth as the word practically echoed through the house and several more crowded for release behind her lips.
Jared was around the counter and leading her to the sink almost before she knew it. Warm water rushed over the cut on her left index finger, and she jumped at the renewed jolt of pain.
“Sorry,” he said, wincing down at her.
“I’m so sorry I cussed.”
He laughed. “What? Don’t worry about it.”
“But the girls—”
“Have heard plenty worse from me at times. It’s okay. They know what they’re not supposed to say.”
Breathing hard, she watched her blood swirl down the drain of the sink as he held her hand under the flow. The heat of embarrassment roared high in her cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asked, his touch achingly gentle.
“So much for wanting me back in your kitchen. Would you believe that’s never happened to me before?”
“Of course I believe it.” He inspected the cut on her finger while she tried to ignore how her hand trembled in his grasp. “I don’t think it’ll need stitches or anything.”
“Okay.” Thank God it wasn’t her right hand. She couldn’t afford to miss any work.
“I might be the wrong person to give medical advice. My mother always gripes at me because she says I would have to be bleeding from the eyeballs before I’d go see a doctor. I’ll take you, if you want to go.”
That was the last thing she needed on her strained bank account. “It doesn’t look too deep. I think it’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure? I absolutely don’t mind.”
“No, see, the bleeding’s already slowing down. Thank you, though.”
“Keep it there. I’ll wrap it up for you.” He left her side, and she missed his support immediately. Black sparkles edged into her vision. Air rushed in her ears. Her knees shook. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, don’t…
Draping herself over the sink as best she could without actually hanging into it, she concentrated on breathing until he came back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Pain was okay, pain wasn’t bad—she had the body art to prove it. But sudden, intense, unexpected pain coupled with ample blood flow was a different matter altogether. He was going to come back to find her collapsed on the floor.
“Hey, hey, hey.” As if from a great distance, his voice came to her. Strong hands grasped her. It felt as if it were happening to someone else. She felt herself lifted, carried, placed gently on a soft chair. “Starla.”
Coming back to herself, she gave her head a shake. Oh, her name sounded good on his tongue. “Yeah.”
“Still with me?”
Nodding, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth, the way they coached people at work. The way she’d heard Brian instruct his clients a million times. It worked now, bringing everything back into focus—but she only wished she could escape. Jared’s wary blue eyes were steady on her face. He was holding a pack of gauze over her sliced finger. Fire traced along her nerve endings. Carefully, he began taping it into place. “I’m so sorry.”
“You? I’m the klutz.”
“I shouldn’t have been distracting you while you had a knife in your hand.”
“I shouldn’t have let myself get distracted while I had a knife in my hand. Really, don’t apologize. I feel bad enough for being a problem.”
He’d carried her into his living room and sat her in a cushy chair, seating himself across from her on the ottoman. “You’re not a problem, Starla.”
“Tell me I didn’t bleed on your furniture or carpet, at least.” She looked around at the beiges and tans in alarm, but saw no sign of any bloodstains.
“Please, I have two kids—I hate to think what you might be sitting on at this very moment. You should be afraid.”
Starla found it within herself to laugh at that. “I’ll keep that in mind. Check for stains of mysterious origins before sitting.”
“Right. Does this feel okay? Too tight?”
The cut hurt like shit, but his hands holding hers, soothing her, taking care of her… That felt fantastic. When he released her and sat back, she missed his touch desperately. It was probably all in her head, but the pain in her finger seemed to ratchet up a notch without his skin on hers. She wanted to tell him to keep touching her. Keep the pain away. “It feels fine.”
“Is there anything in the kitchen I need to do while you rest?”