Chapter 6
LEA
Why was Beau sleeping on the couch? He’d brought his blanket out here, too, but was using one of the throw pillows to rest his head on. And he was wearing big headphones. How was that comfortable?
Hmm.
I tilted my head as I tried to figure out why Beau would come sleep on the couch when he had a perfectly fine bed. Did he not like it? It was the same mattress I had, and I thought it was like sleeping on a cloud.
Everyone was different, though.
“Huh.” I blinked and scratched my head. I wasn’t gonna be able to think properly until I’d had some caffeine.
I spun on my heel and quietly headed to the coffee maker, leaving the lights off so they wouldn’t disturb Beau.
I wasn’t sure how quiet I needed to be and I thought maybe those were headphones of the noise-canceling kind, so he probably couldn’t hear me.
The hum of the AC in there was a good buffer, too.
Of the three units in the apartment, the living room one was the loudest. Maybe he liked that?
I leaned against the counter and stared into space, still half asleep, as the coffee brewed. When the pot was almost full, I got out my tall mug, dragged the sugar over, opened the fridge, then paused.
Damn it, I’d completely forgotten I was out of creamer.
Which wasn’t the end of the world, but it definitely wasn’t how I wanted to begin my day.
With a heavy sigh, I started to close the fridge when I spotted a few of those single-serve creamers from that diner I’d gone to with Riley a few weeks ago.
Oh, hell yes. I’d completely forgotten about them because he’d literally thrown them into the fridge after finding them in his pockets. He was a bit of a klepto, but with things that were already free. He loved free things and collected them regardless of whether or not he needed them.
I grabbed two and set them next to my mug just as the little red light at the top of the coffee maker came on.
Humming quietly, I picked up the pot and tipped it into my mug, only realizing I’d severely miscalculated when boiling coffee poured over my hand and holy fucking shit that was hot!
“Fuck!” I almost dropped the whole pot, but managed to shove it back into its station. That it’s-so-hot-it-feels-cold sting started to fade into pure pain, and goddammit why hadn’t I just turned the light on?
My thumb and forefinger were screaming in agony, and while I had a high tolerance for pain, a burn was on a whole different level.
“Fuuuck,” I whispered, shaking out my hand. When that only made it worse, I stuck the pad of my thumb in my mouth and pressed my tongue against the burn.
I knew nothing about treating a burn. Did water make it worse? Would milk help? Not that I had any. What the fuck was I supposed to do right now?
I looked around the kitchen, my gaze landing on the freezer. Ice it?
I pulled open the freezer, stared at the ice maker, then grabbed the bag of frozen vegetables right next to it.
As soon as it covered the burn, the pain began to fade. I closed my eyes and moaned. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.”
“Lea?”
I screamed when the light came on as Beau’s voice broke through the silence.
“Oh my god, Beau, you scared the shit out of me.” I turned to find him standing a few feet away, staring at me with a puzzled expression as he rubbed his left eye. “Jesus Christ you are quiet,” I breathed, trying to get my heart to settle down.
His hair was wild, the longer parts sticking up in every direction, and he looked like he had no idea where or who or when he was as he squinted at me.
Damn it. He looked so adorably rumpled right now.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry. What’s—what happened? What are you doing?” That deep voice of his, roughened with sleep, was utterly sinful.
He stepped toward me, his eyes darting to the bag of vegetables I was holding as he tried to find the problem. “Are you okay?” When his gaze dropped lower to my legs, he sucked in a breath and averted his eyes to his feet as his cheeks turned pink.
Oh, yeah. Oops. I was in my tiny red robe, so my body was barely covered right now. Well, I usually never saw him before I left for work, so I hadn’t even thought about it. I rarely saw him when I got back, either. He liked to hide away in there, and I wanted to lure him out of his little cave.
I let my gaze settle on his feet and got distracted by how big they were. I wasn’t really a foot person, but Beau had nice feet.
“Lea?”
I glanced up to find Beau’s eyes on mine again.
“Oh, yeah, I’m okay, I’m just…I accidentally spilled hot coffee on my hand.
” I laughed like an idiot, lifting the hand I was still holding the ice pack on.
I tried not to flinch when a twinge of pain flared across my skin. This was really starting to hurt badly.
“You—” Beau stepped closer, and when he saw my hand, his plush lips parted and the most genuine expression of concern took over his features. “Oh, Lea,” he said softly, and holy shit, the way he breathily said my name like that was…
It was hot. It was so. Damn. Hot.
He came closer and I caught a hint of his scent. He smelled good, like clean laundry and coconuts.
“Can I see it? You should run it under cold water,” he said, glancing up at me for permission as he reached toward my hand.
As soon as I moved the bag of vegetables away, Beau gasped.
“Oh, god, Lea.” He gently grabbed my wrist with one hand, bringing my fingers so close to his mouth that for a moment I thought he was about to close his lips around the tip of my finger, and a wave of need swept through me.
He pursed his lips and blew on it instead, cooling the burn. But when his eyes darted up and held mine for a beat, my heart audibly thwacked against my rib cage, so hard I actually felt it.
What the fuck?
“Here, come here,” he said, setting his other hand in the middle of my back as he led me to the sink. He quickly turned the water on, made sure it was cold, then guided my hand under the stream of water.
I hissed at the first touch of freezing water, then relaxed when it made the burn feel so much better.
A brief moment of surprise passed quickly—because when was the last time someone had taken care of me like this?—and I smiled.
Beau’s hand was beneath mine now, palm to palm, warm and steady. He was so close, right there, all his attention on my hand as he inspected how bad the burn was.
I lowered my head and inhaled.
He really smelled good. It was a comforting, cozy scent that made me want to bury my face in his warm neck.
I just knew it would be warm. And soft. There were so many fuzzy, fine hairs on the back of his neck, and the intensity of how much I wanted to rub my cheek there was a little frightening.
I lifted my head and said, “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for something like this.”
Beau’s cheeks turned pink when he glanced at me, and he cleared his throat. “It doesn’t look t-too bad, but…does it hurt? If it hurts a lot, you should get it professionally looked at.” He moved his attention back to my hand.
I was coming to learn that he was a problem solver, could practically see the gears turning in his head as he analyzed the situation and figured out the best course of action.
That was insanely attractive.
Beau was a shy, surprising little sexpot.
Ugh. I was such a perverted asshole.
“Okay, let’s, um…do you have bandages?” he asked. “And any kind of salve or ointment?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe? I have a little first aid kit in the bathroom, but I’m not sure what’s in there, to be honest. It’s under the counter.”
Beau nodded. “Okay. If you don’t have any ointment, I’ll run out and get some later. You don’t need it right now, you just need a bandage. O-or you could just hold a wet cloth on it. But—I’ll see if you have some bandages or gauze.”
“Okay.” I watched him run to the bathroom, clutching my robe around me even tighter. He reappeared moments later, holding a small white box.
“Is this it?”
“Yep, that’s the one,” I replied with a smile.
His eyes darted to mine, then away. “Okay. I’m gonna—.” He cleared his throat, brought it over to me, and set it on the counter.
He was shaking as he flipped open the top and rifled through it, the poor thing. His fingers trembled as he sifted through bandaids and wipes.
I gently put my hand on his forearm, feeling the slight tremors ripple through him. “Are you okay?”
He jolted, then laughed nervously. “Yeah, sorry, just a little tired.” He shifted his body away from mine, and I took the hint. I let my hand fall from his arm and moved a little to the left to give him more space.
He was obviously uncomfortable. I didn’t know why—my robe?—but I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. Wanted him to know he didn’t need to be. Should I just ask him why?
I opened my mouth, about to ask, but when I saw his lips moving as he sorted through the items in the kit, I stayed quiet and let him focus.
I could still watch him, though.
I lowered my head like I was studying my hand, then peered at him sidelong through my lashes. He was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn’t seem to notice me staring.
I honestly wasn’t sure what it was about Beau that evoked this constant urge to look at him. He had this air about him, a confidence and self-reliance that were woven into the way he moved with an assuredness that belied his incredibly timid demeanor.
Maybe it was the contradiction?
Or the shy glances?
Or maybe I was just really into freckles and hadn’t known that until him?
There were times when he seemed hyperaware of himself, and then others where he was so focused on whatever was happening externally that he completely forgot he was shy at all.
I was beginning to look forward to those moments when he forgot. I thought I might be witnessing something he rarely let anyone see.
Were all extroverts like this? Did we all love getting introverts to lower their walls for us?
The first brush of Beau’s fingers on my wrist had me sucking in a sharp breath when it felt like something electric danced up my arm.
He shut off the water, and I wanted to turn it right back on because the pain had instantly returned. But then his hand was beneath mine again, palm to palm, and that was so much more distracting.
So much better.
“Here,” he said softly. “I’ll dab it dry, then cover it with this. Is that okay?”
It took me a long moment to drag my eyes off his face and look at the roll of gauze he was holding up.
When I glanced down at the burn, I realized why he’d chosen the gauze.
It wasn’t a bad burn, but it encompassed my thumb, forefinger, and half of the back of my hand, and a bandage wouldn’t be able to cover all that.
“Yeah. It’s fine. How do you know how to do all this?”
He shrugged, his cheeks pink as he gently rolled the gauze around my hand. “I just read about it somewhere.”
His fingers were warm, his touch gentle and unhurried as he worked the gauze around my hand.
“Okay,” he said, taking a step back. “It’s done.”
I stopped myself from taking a step forward, but the sudden distance when he’d been so close felt wrong.
“Lea?”
“Hmm?”
I blinked, then looked down at where Beau was delicately holding my hand. It was covered in gauze, and against his hands with all those freckles, my hand looked like a boring, blank canvas.
His hands were as big as mine. Soft, too.
“You might want to take it off later today,” he suggested, and when I raised my eyes to his face, he was beet red. “Or I could get you a wet cloth instead, if that’s too tight or hurts. Does it hurt? Do you need some—”
I pulled my hand from his and laughed, ignoring that it was a little shaky. “No, no, it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry.” I raised my clean hand and pressed it gently against his cheek for a brief moment. “Thank you, love. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
His lips parted the moment I touched him, and shy, timid Beau was back in full force again.
“I’ll be right back. Help yourself to the coffee, but definitely pour it with the lights on!” I headed down the hall and waved over my head without looking back. Neither of us laughed at my poor attempt at humor.
In my room, I let out a long breath and stared my bed. The faint scent of fresh laundry and coconuts still hung around me.
What the fuck was I doing? What the hell was happening to me?
I had never been like this before. I mean, yes, I loved sex, but I wasn’t some sex-starved maniac that couldn’t control himself around anyone.
The way someone smelled wasn’t enough to get me going.
The husky tone of their voice was a nice touch, but it never got me this hot and bothered.
I wanted to throw myself on my bed and sulk like a teenager in despair, but instead I did something I hadn’t done in years—I got fully dressed in my own apartment.