off her finger as she ran it beneath cold water. She lifted it out of the stream and looked at it closely in the soft light from above the sink.
“I think all of it came out,” she explained. “What a klutz I am.”
“Not at all.” Nate sat the kit down on the counter and flipped open the lid. “It’s not deep, so you just need a small bandage.”
“I can get it, truly.”
“You’re right handed, aren’t you? Putting it on lefty would be awkward. I’ve got two capable hands.”
Maggie looked down at his fingers holding the bandage. Capable indeed. His hands were wide, with long tapering fingers. She swallowed, but held out her finger anyway.
The sound of the paper wrapper tearing off the bandage echoed through the kitchen. Nate stepped closer, anchoring one sticky end and then holding her hand before wrapping the rest around and sticking it to itself. Her heart pounded painfully; she was sure he could hear it as he applied the small wrap.
“All better,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He started to pull his hand away, but for a long moment his fingertips stayed on hers. She lifted her eyes to his and found him watching her steadily. Oxygen seemed scarce as she fell entranced by his intense eyes, the shape of his lips. Lips that leaned in ever so slightly.
“You’re welcome.” And he lifted her finger to his lips and kissed the tip.
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