Paisley put her trembling fingers to her forehead. Trying to subtly brush away whatever was crawling a slow path down the bridge of her nose, praying it wouldn’t turn out to be a spider. Her fear and the screaming, running, idiot she became in the presence of the creatures would make her look like a fool, as she ran from the building. The last thing she wanted to look like in front of him. “Oh, my God, my head is bleeding.”
“Yeah, it is.” The muscled chest released the word in the deepest baritone, unhurried and calm. “You’ll be okay. I got this.” He slid the straps of what was obviously a first-aid kit off his shoulders to the floor and began cleaning and patching her head. “Don’t be embarrassed, these things happen. Even though I’ve never seen anyone try to fly through the glass panes. Wasn’t your fault, really. The kid in the stroller on the other side of the partition, dropped a bottle or something and it jammed everything.”
She let her gaze drift from him to the bag on the floor and back to his face . “You have a medical bag. Did someone call 911?” She looked around before whispering. “Was I sprawled on the floor that long?”
He laughed out loud. Head thrown back, even white teeth glistening, Adam’s apple moving slowly within the beautiful brown skin of his throat. She was mesmerized. The spell broken as he explained his presence, merely coincidental since the EMS station was housed in the building. His breath, seasoned with peppermint, reminded her she was hungry and late for a lunch meeting.
Paisley pushed herself up, swung her legs to the floor, and with the aid of his palm on her lower back, she stood slowly. Not because she was in any pain, well not any pain from falling, but because she wanted to savor and brand to memory, the touch of his hand.
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