Page 57 of Make Mine Sweet
Of all theways to get your mountain-climbing next-door neighbor to notice you, crying, “Bear!” when you, in fact, only have raccoons isn’t a great option. Tumbling over your own recycle bin and gashing your arm trying to escape those same raccoons is possibly a worse one.
But I let Ian into my apartment with one hand cupping my bloody elbow. On top of everything else, I’d hate to have to try to get stains out of Amy’s stylish rugs.
I take him into the kitchen and open the plastic storage unit where I stash all of August’s medical supplies. In the bottom, I’ve got a big red first aid kit, just in case. I start to unlatch it, but he gently takes it from me.
“I’ve got it.” He opens the kit and assesses the contents before pulling out a few items and setting them aside. “Let’s wash this first.”
He takes my arm with the lightest touch, guiding me closer to the kitchen sink so the spray wand can reach my elbow. He turns on the water and tests it, making sure it’s a comfortable temperature before turning it on my arm.
I wince at the contact, but I know the scrape needs to be cleaned. Now that we’re inside, I can see how dirty it is.
“Okay?” he asks softly.
He’s only asking clinically, wanting to make sure he’s not causing me extra pain, but he’sso close. And he smellsso good. Like aloe and cucumber. I’m definitely smelling his deodorant right now, but I don’t even care. His “okay?” feels like he’s checking in on a whole different level.
Two lines crease between his eyebrows, and I realize I’ve taken too long to answer. Sweet that he’s this worried about me over a scrape. I didn’t hit my head out there. It’s his nearness that’s got me so dazed.
But I’d better start acting normal or he’s going to figure it out.
“It stings a little,” I finally say.
He nods and goes back to his task. He gently washes away the blood and dirt, only turning the water off when he’s sure it’s entirely clean. Bringing my elbow back up, he examines the wound, presumably checking for any remaining grit. Then he doubles up a couple of paper towels and presses them against the scrape.
“Let’s put some pressure on it for a few minutes. It’s bleeding more than I’d like.” He helps me hold my arm up, folded so my elbow’s out, while he keeps the paper towels on it in a firm grip. Once it’s secure, he glances around. “Am I being too loud? I don’t want to wake August.”
This last part he whispers, and I can’t help my smile. “You’re okay. He’s slept through worse.”
Ian nods, his gaze tracing over my face. I indulge in the same, admiring the freckles scattered over his forehead, cheeks, and nose. He’s got so many, it looks like a light tan at a distance. This close, they differentiate into too many freckles to count. I wouldn’t mind trying, though. It would take a long, long time.
Deep lines frame his mouth, disappearing beneath his beard. Once, I would have said they were smile lines, but now, they emphasize his frown.
Maybe frown is the wrong word. He’s watching me so intently my stomach swoops, that’s all I know.
“You were out late tonight.” It’s not a question, but he’s still asking.
“My sister and I went to dinner with a couple of friends.”
He nods, and his gaze drops back to where he’s holding my arm. His mouth flattens beneath his beard like he’s had a bite of lemon pie without any sugar in it. It takes me a minute to realize my explanation might have given him the wrong impression about my night out.
“It was a girls’ night,” I clarify. “One of our friends just got back from a week-long hike. She’snota hiker, so we wanted to hear all about her adventure.”
I leave out the part about Lila coming back with a new man in tow.
“Oh. Sounds like fun.”
“The adventure or the dinner?” Despite his history as a guide and an adventurer, I haven’t seen any evidence he still does things like that. I’m not sure the walking trail behind the duplex counts when you’ve been on top of actual mountains.
“Both. It’s good that you’ve got friends like that.”
“I don’t have many close friends, but they’re two of the best I’ve got.” Hope has been best friends with Wren since they were kids. I’ve grown closer to her since Mom started subletting part of our bakery space to her a couple of years ago. She’s creative and funny, but more practical than Wren.
I never really knew Lila before, but since she moved back to Sunshine last year, I’ve found a kindred spirit in her. I love her sunny attitude mixed with an eager enthusiasm for everything bright & beautiful. Both those women have excellent taste, too.
And then there’s Wren. “My sister’s probably my best friend. Along with my biggest cheerleader, loudest critic, and pushiest busybody.”
He laughs softly. “Sounds like me and my brothers. Sometimes I love them, sometimes I can’t stand them.”
“Is it hard being away from them out here?” I was only separated from Wren for six months, but it was probably the loneliest I’ve ever been.
