Bound For Me(6)

By: Natalie Anderson

It should have been sleazy—the kind of line Ultimate would deliver. Except it wasn’t. He’d meant it as a joke. To make her smile.

And amazingly, she did. “Then please come and let me fix up your finger.”

He took the bar stool he’d had earlier and hooked his feet on the rungs. Even sitting, the guy was tall. And now was not the time to get all self-conscious and super-aware and start thinking about how long it was since she’d been this close to a man.

She sat on the stool beside his and tried not to notice how long his legs were, how near they were to hers.

“Hold still while I look for glass,” she muttered apologetically. “It might hurt.”

“I don’t mind.”

Do not respond to the sensual undercurrent in his low murmur.

She took his hand in hers and took her time to sponge it with a small wad of cotton wool and carefully check there was no glass left in the cut.

Do not speculate on the size of his hand... the potential strength.

Cursing under her breath at her descent into brainlessness, she glanced up. His face was so near she could feel the warmth of his breath and this close his eyes were spellbinding.

“You’re lucky, it looks clear,” she said briskly, trying to pull her head together.

“Thanks.” He looked boyishly contrite, like he’d been told off by his favorite teacher and was trying to suppress his smile.

Savannah looked back down to the cut, blood welled in it again. “I’ll put a Band-aid on it.”


Focus. Be professional. Keep your distance.

“Not too tight?” She checked as she wound the plaster round his finger.

“No, it feels good.”

Kiss it better.

Where the hell had that idea come from?

She looked up, her gaze instantly locked with his.

He didn’t say it. Didn’t say anything. Nor did she. But breathing seemed to be hard, like the air was suddenly heavy with humidity.

Kiss it better.

Kiss. Him.

Savannah never kissed customers. Never kissed anyone. But the urge now?

“You should get it checked by a professional,” she muttered, then coughed to clear the frog from her throat.

“Don’t dramatize. It’s not that deep.” He laughed.

At that sound, the tightness in her chest loosened. She couldn’t help smiling as she hopped off the stool to pack away the First Aid gear and wash her hands.

“You mind if I stay a little?” he asked. “I’m feeling dizzy. Must be the loss of blood.”

He so wasn’t, but this playful tease was such a contrast to the moody man who’d first ordered that icy beer and she couldn’t resist her curiosity. She hesitated, then reluctantly smiled again. “You’d like another beer?”

He held her gaze. “Isn’t it past closing?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She turned to pull one from the fridge, when she turned back with it he’d put a bill on the bar.

She frowned. “I’ve closed the cash register.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

“I won’t owe you either.” She pulled out her own wallet and gave him the change from her pathetic coin collection. “I’ll square it with the register tomorrow.”

As she flipped the lid on his bottle, she saw something flare in his eyes. He took a long swig as soon as she handed it to him.

“You’ve been working on the slopes?” she asked.

His gaze shot to her, surprised. His eyes narrowed. “Today, yeah.”

“You like it up there?” Wasn’t he the mountain king? A slope-style champ or something? She wasn’t really sure of the terminology, before coming here, snow hadn’t really been her thing.

“Doesn’t everyone?” His lips twisted.

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