Page 16 of The Exception

Focus.

I grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and then offered her one as well. “Leave them by the sink,” I said, gesturing to the wad of wet clothes in her hand. “Housekeeping will take care of it and return them to your room.”

“Thank you.”

“Please.” I gestured to the couch opposite, taking her in. Her hair was darker, longer. Or maybe it just seemed that way because it was wet. “Take a seat.”

She clutched her robe at the neck, holding it close as she sank down across from me. The coffee table separated us and our matching couches. I leaned forward, sliding her a glass of whiskey. My eyes caught on the vase of dahlias. The flowers were native to the region, and they were bursting with color. I thought of Gran, and I could hear her voice telling me that dahlias symbolized kindness, steadfastness, and creativity.

She used to send me messages with flowers and their meanings. When she was alive, it had always been our thing. Was she trying to tell me something now?

I held out my hand to Lily. “Let me see your ankle.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but I cut her off. “I’m not going to bite.” Unless she wanted me to. “I just want a closer look to see if we should call the resort doctor.Despite what your reviews might imply, I do take extreme pride to ensure every single guest is well cared for.”

She frowned at me, but when I didn’t relent, she finally lifted her foot with a resigned sigh. “I know you do, not that you typically give your guests this personal level of care.”

I gently placed her foot on my thigh. “Then consider yourself the exception.”

I grazed the skin of her ankle with my finger, nearly groaning at the softness of her skin. She inhaled sharply.

I stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

When I glanced up at her, she shook her head quickly. I studied her briefly before returning my attention to her ankle. “Looks like a superficial scrape,” I continued, reaching for the hand sanitizer. I cleaned my hands then grabbed the foaming antiseptic for her. I pumped some on, waiting for it to finish cleaning the wound.

“I’m sorry about—” she spun her finger in the air “—the pool thing.”

I grabbed a bandage from the kit and dabbed some ointment on it. “No need to apologize. It was an accident. I’m sorry if I implied otherwise.”

I could tell she felt bad enough about it; I didn’t want to make her feel worse. And I was kicking myself for being such a jerk earlier, but I’d been caught off guard.

I applied the bandage to her skin. “There. That should do it.” I smoothed my hand down the top of her foot.

She lowered her foot to the floor. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I, um, you were really good at that.”

“What? Basic first aid?” I joked.

“You have a kind bedside manner.” She sounded surprised.

“A by-product of being the second eldest of five. I can’t tell you how many times I bandaged up Nate or Jasper, even Sloan.” Usually, my grandparents did that, but sometimes, if they were in a meeting or couldn’t be interrupted, I took on that role.

She smiled. “Always taking care of everyone else. But who takes care of you?”

My skin prickled. “I can take care of myself.”

“Even so…” She paused. “Are you okay?”

This conversation was getting too deep. Too personal. So I opted for humor. “Apart from the fact that I’m never going to hear the end of it from my family. Yes.”

“I get that.” She blew out a breath.

“You have a big family too, right?” I asked, though I knew the answer, thanks to my research. Perhaps she’d told me in the past, but I doubted it. When she’d worked for me, I’d rarely spoken to her about anything that didn’t involve business. I was cordial to my employees, but I’d always preferred to maintain a professional distance.

“I’m one of four,” she said. “And I’ve always been the oddball.”

“Same,” I confessed before I could stop myself.

“Yeah, but…” She chewed on her lip. “It’s different.”

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