Chapter 23
POV: Abby?
I practically inhaled my lunch. A salami and cheese sandwich never tasted so good.
After stuffing one last potato chip inside of my mouth, I glanced over at Cole and realized that he was already staring at me.
But his normally cold stare, seemed a bit warmer now—maybe it was because the sun tinted his skin a shade darker, or the way his dark eyes made my entire body heat with just a single look, or maybe it was because I was beginning to think that Cole’s calloused, shut off heart was beginning to open…
for me.
I shook my head, smiling and looking down at the plate.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“No,” I lied, glancing at him sideways.
As he finished his iced tea, his gaze fell back onto mine. But instead of questioning me some more, he just got to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he did, almost tearing that perfect t-shirt that clung to every inch of his chiseled physique.
I knew that I’d never get tired of ogling him.
At 36 years old, he had a better body than half the guys at my college.
“Looking at something?” he smirked, folding his arms over his chest, making his muscles ripple.
“No,” I smiled, looking away from him and practically skipping off to the door.
He grabbed my wrist and twisted me towards him and into his chest. “You’re still a shitty liar.”
“I know,” I blushed, tugging free from his soft grasp and heading back outside.
Cole followed behind me, towering over me as he always did, and headed straight to the barbed fence that kept the pigs gated.
“Be careful,” he warned, glancing behind his shoulder. “It’s electric.”
“Electric?” I asked, confused.
“I’ve had a small problem with wolves lately,” he said.
I nodded and watched as he walked over to the fuse box.
He flipped off the power then strode back over to the farthest fence post with a pliers in hand.
Cole began bending some of the metal with the pliers, shaping it and trying to cut off a sharp piece of metal that was low enough to injure the pigs.
But within a second, the pliers slipped from the palm of his hand and the metal dug right into his skin.
“Fuck!” he yelled, clutching his palm.
Blood oozed out of the corner of his palm, spurting red.
I ran over immediately, clutching his palm and looking into the depth of the cut. “Cole, it’s deep.”
“I’m fine, Abby,” he grunted, trying to tug his palm against his chest and away from me.
I didn’t let him. I held it with all the strength I had. “Cole, we have to clean it.”
“I’m fine, it’s just a cut.”
But blood kept leaking from the wound without clotting.
“Stop being so stubborn, Cole,” I tugged again, but his heavy body didn’t even budge an inch. “Let me clean it.”
Eventually, he gave in, reluctantly, but he gave in nonetheless.
We walked towards the house and when we got inside I practically ordered him into a chair at the dining room stable. “Sit.”
And I went off to get the first aid kit.
When I came back into the room, Cole was still standing there in the center of the kitchen, blood dripping from his palm with that same defiant look on his face.
I pointed at the chair. “Don’t start. Sit.”
He grunted as he took a seat, slumping his hand onto his knee, as blood trickled all over his jeans.
I made my way to the sink and then washed my hands with soap, soaped up a wet towel and filled a bucket with fresh water then walked back over to him, kneeling on the wood floor and dipping his hand into the bucket of water, and cleaning out his wound.
He dipped his head to watch me, his brown hair falling around his face, framing it.
The towel was full of blood within a minute as I cleaned around the cut. He didn’t even make a sound as I did, he just clenched his jaw as he watched me intensely.
“You’re tough—I’ll give you that.” I said, running the towel around his cut. “I guess all cowboys are.”
“Not all—” he corrected.
“Of course not. Just you,” I teased, rolling my eyes from his ego.
“Now sit still,” I warned him, getting to my feet. “Where do you keep the tweezers?”
“Tweezers?”
“Let me guess—you don’t have any,” I drew out a loud sigh as I began to rifle through my purse. “You better hope I have one in here!” I rifled through my purse some more, found about 4 different lipsticks, gum, tampons, my wallet, a mascara, then some tweezers. “Found them!”
Like the stubborn cowboy he was, he tried to move in his chair. “I’m fine, Abby—really. The wound is clean now.”
I placed a firm hand on his thigh, stopping him from moving. “We have to check if there’s any metal pieces in there. It could get infected, Cole.”
Cole stopped protesting and let me piece through the wound with the tweezers. Finally, I yanked a piece of metal out of his wound and set it down on the napkin.
I wrapped a thick piece of medical gauze around his hand and held my thumb down on the wound. “I hope this stops the bleeding.”
“You didn’t have to, I’d be fine regardless.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed down harder. “I know that but it’s not a crime to receive help.”
“I’m not used to it,” he said simply, glancing down at the wound.
“Well, get used to it,” I told him. “As long as I’m around I’m going to.”
He looked up at me then, his normally cold gaze was softener, gentler this time. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, unwrapping the wound, cleaning it again, then applying an antiseptic to it, before wrapping it up for good. “Because if you keep being stubborn, it could still get infected.” I shot him a wink before getting to my feet.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“The shower,” I said. “Too bad you can’t get that wound wet,” I gave him my best pouty face. “Otherwise you could join me.”
That made his eyes flare.
“Now go relax and watch a hunting show or something,” I teased, shaking my ass as I walked off to the bathroom.
I thought about keeping the door unlocked as an invitation but the wound needed to heal and we’d have plenty of time later tonight for some fun.