“Not so fast.” My attention is drawn back to Jesse, quickly walking toward me with the red box in his hand.
Hel-looo, nurse.
Jesse is like McDreamy and McSteamy wrapped into one very serious package. He even has that stern, no-nonsense, doctor’s orders look on his face.
And I for one am ready for my physical.
I’m sitting perfectly at eye level with one part of him in particular that he’s obviously trying to obscure with that box. It barely conceals what my eyes connected with earlier, now slightly more…tumescent.
Superman indeed.
I instantly think about Francis, but surprisingly he’s quickly snuffed out by the sudden flame Jesse has lit in me. Especially when he falls to his knees to attend to my injury.
To be fair, when one thinks about it, it’s Francis’ fault, really. Had he not changed our relationship status to “It’s Complicated,” I would have never thrown the party, then had to toss out the bottles this morning, one of which dropped and shattered through no fault of my own and…well, here we are!
“Isn’t this a pretty picture,” I say, giving Jesse a pert smile as he hunches over, looking even more supplicant, to riffle through the box for something to take care of my foot. “I feel like the Queen of Sheba.”
Jesse’s eyes dart back up to mine, then make a surreptitious detour along the length of my body. He exhales and quickly diverts them back to his first aid kit, snatching out the gauze and alcohol pads, then slamming the lid shut.
If I’d known it was this easy to unsettle him, I would have started a lot sooner.
I love watching men squirm.
It’s the first step to them overcoming their inhibitions.
And Jesse most definitely has more than his fair share of inhibitions. All anyone has to do is spend ten minutes with the man to figure that much out.
Despite his obvious frustration and sour demeanor, I’m surprised at the tenderness with which he takes hold of my foot. His large, strong hand palms the top and gently flexes it back so he has a better view of the injury.
Now that he has something to focus his attention on, I observe how his face relaxes, studiously analyzing the cut to ascertain the best course of action. I would have just yanked the thing out and swaddled my foot in miles of toilet paper then used it as an excuse to lounge all day and binge-watch Midsomer Murders.
“It’s pretty deep but it doesn’t look like it hit anything major, especially since it’s not bleeding too badly.”
“Dr. Castiglione,” I tease. “Did you go to med school?”
“I come from a big family. You learn how to tend to yourself when Mom’s triaging the worst cases,” he says, his eyes still on my foot. I’m shocked to see an amused look soften his features as he reminisces. “Having three older brothers didn’t help.”
“Well fry me up and slather me with honey butter, is that a bona fide smile on your face?” I lean in and meet him with a smile of my own. “You should do it more often, it makes you even more handsome.”
The smile disintegrates under the weight of self-reproach that now seems to consume him. That crease in his brow furrows deeper than ever and he frowns even harder as he focuses on my foot again.
Being that my care is in his hands, I refrain from exhaling the laugh that bubbles up my throat.
“I’m going to pull it out. It might hurt a bit.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not—ow!” Although he was quick and as gentle as could be, the sting still shoots up my leg in protest.
“Sorry,” he mutters, entirely focused on my cut.
“I’m still alive,” I say through clenched teeth.
“No, not too much bleeding,” he says, gently dabbing at it with a piece of gauze.
“So how big is your family?” I ask, mostly to take my mind off my throbbing foot.
Jesse tears open an alcohol pad, briefly flashes his eyes to me before focusing on my foot again. “Four brothers and three sisters.”
“You’re kidding!” I exclaim. “And here I thought my family was big with two brothers and two sisters.”
Once again his eyes pop back up to meet mine, this time lingering with interest. I’m blown over once again when a small smile appears on his face again.
He loves his family. That much is evident by the sentimentality in his eyes.
“It is an experience, isn’t it? Growing up with a family that large?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say, falling back against the couch with a laugh. “Still, I can’t wait to have a big family myself one day.”
Something in his gaze sharpens, hitting me like a bolt of lightning before he tears it away to focus on my foot again.
“This is definitely going to hurt. I apologize ahead of time.”
Before I can react, he swabs at the cut with the alcohol pad.
I screech in pain, my leg reflexively flinching so hard I knee him in the face, forcing him back on his heels amid a stream of curses.
“Oh, Jesse!” I cry out, momentarily forgetting about the pain to beat all previous pain that my foot is clouded in.
I sit up, leaning over to inspect the spot on his cheekbone where my knee made impact. It’s already turning an alarming shade of red against his olive skin tone. I reach out and gingerly dance my fingertips across the spot.
“Yeah, that’s going to leave a bruise.”
His cheek goes taut underneath my touch, his entire face hardening with discomfort as his intense eyes fall on me.
“It’s fine,” he grumbles, pulling away.
I smile at the predictable temperance he shows when around me.
“At least you can tell everyone you got it coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress,” I tease.
He
