Chapter 24
Tenny
It’s just as painful as I expected. Not the seagull bite.
That hurts less than the hard pop of a ball to my palm when I fail to catch it in the pocket.
What’s absolutely eviscerating me is the tender way Alex washes every inch of my hand, taking extra care over the shallow wound.
The sensation of her thumbs over my calluses is so blissful it needs its own dissertation.
I’m not sure if she’s being extra thorough because she’s truly afraid of beak-rot fever or whatever, or if…
My eyes press closed as I push the foolish thought away.
Alex doesn’t want an excuse to keep touching me.
She’s just being considerate. It’s one of the things I like about her.
That and how she rolls with the punches.
Alex was completely unbothered earlier, wiping away drool after cackling like a madwoman at our situation.
Even now, she’s covered in cold coffee with her hair a disheveled halo around her gorgeous face and seems unconcerned by the fact that her patio is an absolute mess.
Which is pretty much my fault.
“I didn’t think we’d get swarmed like that. I’m sorry about bringing too much food, for being too—”
“I like when you do that,” Alex interrupts, eyes on her task as she rinses off bubbles.
My heart feels trapped in my throat. “Do what?”
Alex tilts her head back and forth as she thinks, and a trash compactor presses all the air from my lungs.
“The food thing.” She shuts off the water and rips off a paper towel. “Mags and I ate those delectable pastries for days.”
I use the loss of contact to get a freaking grip. See…Alex doesn’t like you; she likes food. Who doesn’t like food? We’d be an extinct species if no one ate. Food equals survival.
“I can do that,” I say, holding out my right hand for the towel.
Alex’s eyes narrow to slits as they meet mine. “And contaminate the site? No way.”
Okay. Proper wound care is apparently a hot-button issue with this woman.
I’m about to make a joke before clarity slaps me upside my big dumb face. Alex mentioned having an injury that took her a long time to recover from. Surgery and wounds were probably involved in that.
“Thank you for helping me,” I tell her instead, voice soft.
She shakes her head while drying my hand. “I can’t believe that jackwad bit you.”
“It’s been a weird morning.”
Alex smiles at my fingers before instructing me to not touch anything, like I’m a disobedient toddler, and going in search of Band-Aids and antibacterial ointment.
When she comes back into the kitchen, I’m in the same exact spot, but my mind has a better grip on the situation.
“Before we were so rudely interrupted”—I pause when Alex snorts—“you detailed how you’re going to help me, but what is my…
How did you put it in your text yesterday?
” I pretend to think, like I haven’t memorized each word she’s typed since she unblocked me.
“What is my role in this ‘intentionally transactional professional relationship’?”
“That title is a bit of a mouthful,” I say before Alex can answer, rubbing my beard scruff with my free hand. “Maybe we should make it an acronym? ITPR? Or maybe a more relaxed name like Friends Helping Friends?”
“We’re friends now?” Alex asks, applying the bandage.
“Unless you’d prefer the label enemies.” I keep my tone full of mirth, though I hate that descriptor. “You do like to fight with me.”
Alex’s pinched gaze slides to mine. “I often want to strangle you.”
“Fix me up just to kill me?” I let out a low whistle. “Brutal.”
Alex shakes her head, but she can’t quite subdue the smile on her lips.
When she doesn’t say anything else, I hop on the counter opposite the sink and wait.
Normally, I’d be jibbering about forty different nonsensical topics, but I’m not rushing Alex into telling me what I can do to help her.
I get the feeling that asking for help isn’t easy for her.
Warmth blooms at the fact that she’s even asking in the first place.
Alex takes a deep breath, running both hands through her long hair and fisting it at the base of her neck. Her mouth opens, but no sounds come out.
“Why don’t you get changed,” I suggest. “It might be easier in dry clothes.” Before Alex can get defensive, I pick up the potted plant I brought over and focus my attention on it.
“Leaf and I can get better acquainted while we wait. We really didn’t get enough bro bonding before I brought him here. ”
Alex’s breathy chuckle is music to my ears, but I don’t look up. I just widen my eyes and tilt my head like Leaf said something amazing.
“You don’t say? The first explorer to reach the Americas? Tell me more.”
I catch Alex grinning out of the corner of my eye as she walks toward her bedroom.
The problem is, as much as I definitely want to give Alex all the patience she deserves, I’m not good at sitting still.
Using the cleaning solution under the sink, I wipe down her countertops, her microwave, and all the shelves in the refrigerator.
Then I disassemble her stove coils so I can clean the oil stains beneath them.
Growing warm during my quick cleaning bender, I toss my partially damp hoodie over the front doorknob before returning to the range.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting?” I hold up the soapy sponge like I’ve just been caught robbing a bank.
Alex stomps up to me, so close she nearly wets her clean clothes with the sponge.
“With your left hand?” The words are gritted through tight teeth.
I glance at my wet bandage with an expression like Oops. “I started with my right, but I couldn’t get things clean enough.”
“Tenny.”
“Some of this required real elbow grease. I can’t do that right-handed,” I tell her, gesturing to the half-cleaned range.
“Tenny.”
“You should be happy I didn’t start with the patio, which I am cleaning, by the way, and I’m buying you a bird deterrent system because that’s obviously your happy place, and there’s no way I’m letting some featherbrained bullies—”
My words halt in my throat when Alex launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist in the tightest hug. Cautiously setting the sponge aside, I debate whether to hug her back. This might be some kind of trap, and I don’t want to do anything to get blocked again.
“You have to stop.” Her whispered words tickle the skin above my shirt collar.
“Is that why you’re hugging me?” I ask, still not touching her.
“No. Yes?” She groans, pressing her forehead into my neck. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I say, deciding it’s worth the risk.
Wrapping one arm around Alex’s shoulders while the other bands around her lower back, I lean against the counter so I can take all her weight. The action makes Alex nestle deeper, like I’m as comfortable to snuggle with as Carly the Capybara.
I don’t know what the heck we’re doing. Enemies don’t hug. Friends do, but probably not like this. It’s obvious Alex doesn’t want to be with me romantically, so what in the world…
Forcing my brain to shut up, I focus on sensations. The gentle rise and fall of Alex’s breaths, mirroring my own. The sheer sweetness of this moment softened by Alex’s comforting scent. Heck, even the sound of the seagulls chattering as they have the feast of a lifetime is oddly calming.
Alex finally pulls away with a noisy sigh. I reluctantly release her, keeping myself pinned to the counter so I don’t reach for her. My heart thuds as she settles against the other side of the narrow galley kitchen, a slight pink splotching her cheeks.
Alex blushes?
Instantly, it becomes my life’s mission to see that endearing flush again—that and winning the World Series this season. Back-to-back wins would solidify the Waves in baseball history.
Alex tucks her hair behind her ear, fixing her gaze on her new plant. “Thank you. For Leaf, for breakfast, for cleaning my kitchen. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
I don’t tell Alex that this is a tiny scratch on the surface of things I’d like to do for her.
If she’d let me, I’d spend the rest of the day assembling furniture, helping her unpack.
I’d grab my tools from my house and fix the leaky faucet.
I’d feed her lunch and then dinner and fill this empty kitchen with her favorite snacks.
A pressure builds in my chest, and I grip the counter’s edge to keep myself quiet.
My mental list is the epitome of Too much, and I should know better. My over-the-top tendencies have already gotten me in trouble this morning.
Buzzing vibrates down my arms, but I force myself to stay still. “You’re welcome.”
A few beats of silence stretch between us, and I decide to try my question from earlier again. If nothing else, I can help Alex with this.
“How do I hold up my end of this truce?” I ask, keeping my expression and tone light.
Alex lifts her face, and her gaze shifts. It’s sharper, more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
“You’re going to help me surf again.”