She slid to her feet, feeling a little bummed the show was over. “That was fast. ”
“I told you. A kid could’ve done it. ”
She gestured to his arm. “May I?” She didn’t know what she was doing—she needed to get back to work—but she kept prolonging their time together. “Maybe someone should take a look at it for you. ”
“Like a doctor?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes, like a doctor. ”
He stuck it out for her perusal. “You’re cute. ”
“Cute?” She gingerly peeled the rag away, and a fresh line of blood appeared along his cut.
“Yeah. Cute. ” He stretched and tilted his arm. “It’s not that big a deal. ”
“Maybe I’m just worried you’ll turn around and sue us,” she joked as she wound it back up. She’d known men like this, which meant she also knew they could be tough-guy idiots who’d rather bleed to death than actually ask for help. “Come on, let me at least clean it. I’ll fix you right up…”
And then you can get out of here, she’d meant to say, but he stepped closer, and suddenly the room felt ten degrees hotter.
“Can’t say no to that, Doctor Laura. ”
“We have to go back to the lodge,” she said, her face hot. “That’s where the good first-aid kit is. ”
“Even better. ”
She was painfully aware—of her stride, of the patrons’ glances, of Helen’s stare—as they made what felt like an endless trek across the dining room and back to the main lodge.
She led him upstairs, but he paused by her bedroom door.
“Hey, this your room?”
“Yes,” she said warily. “How did you know?” She leaned in to peek, searching for the clue that’d given it away.
“It’s obvious. ” He strolled in, and she had no choice but to follow.
“It is?”
He pointed. “Purple bedspread and lamp. I went to school with you, remember?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Everything was purple with you. Purple backpack. Purple winter coat. Purple jeans. ” He grinned. “I especially liked those purple jeans. ”
She’d forgotten the purple. “The color is plum. ”
“Purple, plum, whatever. It’s clear it hasn’t been changed since you were a kid. ” He pulled out her desk chair and plopped down, leaning on an elbow to avidly study all her memorabilia.
She felt herself blush. “My parents didn’t see the need to change it, and it didn’t seem to matter. I guess I always assumed Mom would eventually get rid of everything and turn it into a sewing room. ”
“Nah, not your folks. You could be an old woman, and they’ll still have your room done up like it was yesterday. ”
The comment gave her pause. Was that really true? Was she really so valued?
He peered at the photos pinned on her bulletin board. “I’d have thought you’d be the one to have redone it by now. Some modern Ikea look, or maybe Japanese antiques. ”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Sugar, I wouldn’t dream of it. ”