Page 26 of Promise You Forever

“Fuck,” he mutters as a tool clanks to the ground. “Ouch.”

He rolls out from under the tractor with his hand over his forehead. When he pulls it away, I see a gash that’s already started bleeding.

“I’m so sorry.” I crouch down in front of him and reach toward the cut.

“It’s fine. I didn’t hear you come in.” He pushes up onto his feet and stands, towering over me.

I tilt my head back and reach up, pushing his hand away from the cut. “We need to clean that.”

For a second, I think he’s going to argue. A refusal looks poised on the tip of his tongue, but then his shoulders drop, and he gestures to the restroom in the corner of the barn. “There’s a first aid kit in there.”

I locate the kit just as I feel his presence at my back in the small space. The heat from his body seeps through my shirt and sinks into my skin. My body sways slightly as I turn, taking care not to brush against him. His proximity makes me forget all common sense.

“Sit.” I point at the toilet impatiently as I start tearing open an alcohol swab.

“Yes ma’am.” He lowers the lid and drops down onto it, his long legs stretching out on either side of me, caging me between his thighs.

“Don’t do that.” I do my best to ignore the way we’re sandwiched together.

“Do what?” He smirks at me, dimple popping.

“Act like you have manners.” I press the alcohol swab to the cut, probably adding more pressure than necessary.

“Ouch.” He hisses but doesn’t pull away. “Your bedside manner could use some improvement.”

“We’re in a bathroom with more spiderwebs than soap. I think my bedside manner is the least of our worries.”

He looks around the room. “It gets the job done.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, turning to get a second swab.

“How’s Barney?” he asks.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.” His face is a mask of indifference.

“You mean Brandon? My fiancé.”

“Yeah. Him.”

I could tell him the truth now, but my eyes catch on my engagement ring, sparkling under the single, flickering fluorescent light. If he thinks I’m happily engaged to another man, he’ll leave me alone. That’s what I want, right? To just develop a professional working relationship with him.

“He’s great.” It’s probably not even a lie. I’m sure he’s happily out searching for someone less complicated than me. I don’t think he’ll spend much time mourning our relationship.

I finish cleaning up the cut and toss all the trash away in the garbage without saying anything else. When I turn to leave, Luke reaches out to stop me, his hand wrapping around my hip in a firm hold. It’s an intimate place to grab hold of someone who isn’t yours. My eyes look from his hand up to his eyes.

“Thank you.” His hand squeezes me. “Paul was good. He’s set on moving next week.” His eyes search mine, compassion bleeding from them. “Are you okay with that?”

My nostrils flare as I quickly look away. I busy myself putting the first aid kit away before answering. “It’s not about me being okay, it’s about him. It’s his choice.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.” His voice is quiet, and his thumb runs back and forth over the sliver of skin between the waistband of my jeans and my shirt.

I should tell him to stop, but I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. The weak part of me wants to lean into the comfort of his touch, even if just for a second.

No.

I can’t let him comfort me.

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