she jerked back at the heat on the glass container. The action splashed a small bit of the red-hot syrup on her hand. Brought up to never moan over what the Colonel termed a “small incident,” she didn’t say anything, instead looked for the sink.
Zeke turned around, sized up the situation and grabbed her good hand. “Thought you knew it’d be hot.” Leading her to the sink, he shook his head. “It’s like jam or filled doughnuts—they get hot as a greased pit in the microwave.”
“I can—”
But Zeke was already turning on the faucet. He quickly put her injured hand under the cool stream of water. “Joey, grab a big bowl from the hutch.”
“Hutch?”
“The big piece of furniture over there. Bowls are on the bottom shelf.”
“There’s no need to fuss—” Olivia began.
“Who’s fussing? Good grief, woman, you want a blister?”
“Of course not.” But it was hard to argue with him as he gently touched her hand, careful to make sure the water pressure wasn’t too forceful, that the reddened skin was handled with care. It had been so long since her hand had been held by a man. Or since she’d stood so close...
“This one okay?” Joey asked.
Startled, Olivia jerked her hand back, putting too much pressure on the burn.
Zeke’s puzzlement showed in his face, but he didn’t comment in front of Joey, instead taking the bowl and filling it with cold water.
To cover her flub, Olivia started to turn to the refrigerator. “I’ll get some ice.”
“No. That’ll just aggravate the burn. The cool water will keep the reddening down, and while your hand’s in the water, the air can’t get to it and make it hurt more. Then we’ll cut open a stalk of aloe vera, rub it on the welt and it’ll be good as new in a day.”
“Oh.” Well, he was a doctor, even though he worked on patients of the four-footed variety....
As though to contest her thoughts, she heard squawking from another room.
“Dilbert,” Zeke explained. “My parrot. Every now and then he decides to try to fly, then smacks into the furniture.”
“Why can’t he fly?”
“Wing damage.”
“And he just roams around free?” Instantly she imagined the amount of bird droppings.
“No, but he can pick locks better than most thieves. I’ll round him up after breakfast and put him back in his cage.”
“Why can’t he just walk around outside and not be in a cage?” Joey asked with a scowl.
“Because he’d wind up as somebody’s dinner. He doesn’t have any defenses and he wouldn’t be able to escape if a predator took after him. Coyotes, eagles.”
Still not looking mollified, Joey continued to scowl. “How’d he hurt his wing?”
Zeke shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“How come?” Joey demanded.
“Joey—” Olivia began.
“It’s okay. Somebody found him hurt in Fredericksburg. I got a call and, well, he’s been here ever since.”
Olivia frowned, as well. “Aren’t there veterinarians in Fredericksburg?”
“Of course. But not all of them have the space I do. People know I take in strays.” The bowl was now nearly full and Zeke took her hand and guided it into the water. “Keep it covered. Now, we’d better eat those pancakes before they turn into Frisbees. ’Course, if they’re cold, that hot syrup ought to warm them up.”
Olivia swallowed, wondering if he was being sarcastic.
“And since your mom risked...well, not life, but certainly limb, we ought to dig in.” He looked over at Olivia, not a trace of sarcasm or meanness in his expression. “Right-or left-handed?”
“Right.”
“Good thing the burn’s on your left, then.”
Well, if Zeke didn’t think she was a hopeless klutz from the lost-chicks episode the day before, he must now. Awkwardly she placed the bowl on the table beside one of the plates. Perhaps for an encore she could dump coffee in her lap.
“How many pancakes, Olivia?”
“One, thanks.”
Zeke’s eyebrows rose. “Not too confident about my cooking?”
“No.” Flustered, she stirred the water in the bowl with her fingers. “I mean, I’m not all that hungry.”
Tilting his head in the direction of the fully stacked platter, he sent her a look of disapproval. “Better eat more than one.”
“She doesn’t eat much anymore,” Joey commented, digging into his own pancakes.
The innocent but painful reminder made her freeze.
Silence filled the room. Only the scraping of Joey’s fork against the plate as he ate interrupted the quiet.
Zeke met her gaze, his eyes filled with questions and a touch of sympathy.
Olivia bowed her head.
But Zeke’s intense perusal didn’t waver.
Swallowing, she tried to pick up her fork—anything to distract herself and him. Forgetting the bowl of water, she lifted that hand as well, splashing water on the table.
“Watch it!” Joey complained. “You’re getting water on my pancakes!”
Zeke tossed him a paper towel. “You’ll live.”
Joey rolled his eyes.
No doubt her son was thinking how unfair it was that there were two sets of rules, one for adults, one for kids, Olivia realized. But certainly more compelling was the look in Zeke’s eyes. She didn’t want pity. Was there something more in his gaze? Something that didn’t reside in that sorrowful tier of emotions?
Ted had been the center of her life, the anchor that had begun to make her believe she could belong. Just like anyone else. That she wasn’t destined to always be an outsider. When he died, all that had disappeared.
And it would take far more than a disarming veterinarian with unforgettable blue eyes for her to recover.
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