“Don’t. Touch. It!”
He laughed. Laughed! “Just chill a sec. I’m going to get my first aid kit from the back and get some antibacterial wipes to clean the dirt off around it.”
“Don’t pull the nail out.” I slowly released my bent arm so he could see my hand.
“I’m not going to pull the nail out. God … you’re a basket case.” He disappeared to the back of the truck and returned with the wipes.
“Shouldn’t you wear gloves so you don’t get my blood on your hands?”
“You have my saliva inside of you. It’s only fitting I get a little of your blood. Might as well let everything mingle today. Do you have an STD I need to know about?” Fisher squinted at me as his hands gently cleaned around the wound.
I frowned.
“It’s a joke.”
“Terrible timing.” I jumped when his finger accidentally bumped the nail.
“Sorry.” He cringed, giving me a sincere apologetic look. “Here, sit back. I’ll get you fastened in.” After he fastened the seat belt, he drove me to urgent care where we were ushered back surprisingly quick. They removed the nail. Cleaned the wound. Bandaged it. And gave me a tetanus shot because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one.
“Do you need to go home?” Fisher asked when we got back into the truck.
“No.” I felt stupid. I cried in front of him. How did I expect for him to think of me as a grown woman when I cried over a little puncture wound? I bet his date that night wasn’t a crybaby like me.
“Sure?”
I nodded.
We finished off the day with me doing very little aside from waiting in the truck and holding sacks of food for the roofing crew at the final job where they were working late to finish before the rain.
After a quick stop at the office, we headed home around six.
“What time is your Bible study?” Fisher asked as we pulled into the driveway.
“Seven.”
“Are you still going?” He opened his door and paused, eyeing me warily like for the first time he felt bad about my accident.
“Yes,” I managed to say like all was good. But I was not going to Bible study. “After a nice soak in the tub, I’ll be fine.” I shut the door.
“Um … have you not noticed that there’s only a shower downstairs? A nice shower. A huge tiled shower with lots of shower heads, but still a shower.”
I’d forgotten. “Shower.” I gave him a forced smile. “That’s what I meant.” I took three more steps before he said my name.
“Reese, you’re more than welcome to use my tub. It’s a big soaker tub, and I rarely ever use it. I’ll shower in my other bathroom.”
“No. A shower is great. A shower is what I meant.”
“Well, if you change your mind, the offer stands.”
“Thanks,” I called without looking back as I headed around to the side of the house. “I’m good. Have fun on your date.”
Chapter Ten
I showered when I really wanted a bath.
I skipped Bible study because I just needed to sulk.
I stayed up way too late, making a gazillion trips to the top of the stairs to press my ear to the door, listening for any sign of Fisher.
By one in the morning, I gave up and went to bed, a little irritated that he either wasn’t coming home at all or was out so late … on a work night. People who were not morning people needed to get to bed earlier. My grandparents went to bed at eight every night, and they were always a bucket full of smiles in the morning.
Thursday morning, I woke to a text from Fisher.
You’re working in the office with Hailey today. Hopefully you can drive yourself. If not, call me.
What did that mean? Did he not come home the previous night? Was he out too late? Hung over? At her place? Naked in her bed?
NO!
I really needed to get control of my thoughts. I should have gone to Bible study instead of going out of my mind eavesdropping on Fisher when he wasn’t home.
“Good morning. How’s the hand?” Hailey asked as I set my backpack next to her desk. “You can sit at Bossman’s desk. I have a bunch of invoices for you to sort through today. Just set his shit in a pile on the floor.”
“My hand is fine. Thanks.” I gathered the papers and blueprints on his desk and set them on the floor in the corner. “Have you seen him this morning?” I asked.
“Not yet. I assumed you two would be riding together.”
“He had a date last night.” I poured myself a cup of coffee. “I don’t think he came home.”
“Oh …” She lifted her eyebrows and grinned. “Go, Fisher, go.”
No. Why did she say that? Maybe because she had sexual fantasies about other men, not her boss. I envied her. It’s not like I wanted to pine for Fisher like a pathetic teenager.