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Katelynn turned toward the sink in the kitchen and bumped into Quint. She stiffened. Lately, his large cabin seemed to be shrinking. They were always bumping into each other.
"Sorry," she mumbled
He grunted, moving in the same direction as she tried to escape in and they came toe to toe in a dance of avoidance.
"Oh..." She sidestepped the other way.
That time, Quint remained standing in front of her, and she avoided touching him. When she moved away, his frown deepened.
She sighed quietly. The last few days, he'd acted as if she was underfoot and he wanted her somewhere else.
Glancing at him, she tried to see what he was thinking. She used to believe his beard hid all his emotions, but there were ways of telling when he was unhappy. Like now, his eyes narrowed, and the whiskers on his jawline moved. Sometimes, if he had his hair swept back, she could go by the lines on his forehead.
She stepped up beside him. "I can wash the dishes."
Her arm lightly brushed his, and she flinched, making sure not to come into contact with his body. It was hard to do in the kitchen. The island forced them into a tighter area, and he was a big man, used to having the place to himself.
"Do what makes you happy." He tossed the dishcloth in the sink of suds. "I'm going to go out and have a smoke."
She inhaled deeply, glad when the door shut. His moods were all over the place. Sweet one minute, irritated the next. She couldn't understand what set him off.
Scrubbing the two dinner plates, she took out her frustration on the dishes. Her guilt, knowing she was probably the cause of his ups and downs, left her feeling like she needed to do more for him to take off the added stress she'd put on him.
She couldn't take back what had happened. As much as she wished she could. Killing Cord was the biggest regret of her life, and she'd have to live with what she'd done for the rest of her life.
Rinsing off the dishes, she put the plates, cups, and silverware in the drying rack. Quint usually left them there and used them the next day.
She dried off her hands and straightened the kitchen. Banging came from outside, followed by a curse. Hurrying to the door, she stepped out to the porch and found Quint shaking his hand.
Stepping up to him, she took in the problem. He'd hurt himself.
She grabbed his wrist. "Let me look," she said softly.
"It's just a sliver." He tried pulling away from her, but she held on.
"No, it's a huge sliver." She pulled him inside under the light in the kitchen. "I'll be gentle. I promise."
There was a thick one-inch long piece of wood embedded under the skin of his index finger. She ran her pinky over the spot but couldn't feel the end sticking through. Knowing there was only one way of helping, she raised his hand up to her mouth and ran her tongue along the spot.
Quint stiffened beside her. "What the hell are you doing?"
She raised her head. "Finding the end of the sliver."
"With your tongue?"
"Uh huh." She ignored him and licked again, finding the entrance point. "Okay, now hold still."
Using her fingernails as tweezers, it took her several tries before she succeeded and slowly pulled the sliver from his finger. She held it up for him to see. "I told you it was big."
He stared at her, ignoring what pierced him. She let go of his hand and stepped away.
Ducking her head, she said, "You should wash your hands with soap, so it doesn't become infected."
Quint's gaze followed her. He made no indication he was going to do what she suggested. Self-conscious, she ran her tongue over her front teeth. Her stomach fluttered. She could taste his skin on her lips.
His eyes narrowed. Warmth flooded her face at the way he looked at her.
She moved toward him. "Quint?"
"I'll wash up in the bathroom." He stepped around her and walked out of the room.
Her nipples hardened, and a flash of arousal hit her between the legs. She leaned against the counter and cradled her head. Had Quint thought she was flirting with him?
She groaned. He probably thought she was a child compared to him...licking his finger. She rubbed her finger over her lips.
She pushed away from the counter and walked outside before he returned. The cooler night air helped take the warmth out of her body. According to Quint's attitude, she couldn't do anything right.
He was older. She paced the length of the porch. He probably never looked at her as an available woman.
Not that she thought of him as boyfriend material. Though he was good looking in a rugged, sexy way. He had a great body.
He was hot. Tall and strong, and his hands were broad and calloused. Really, he was the picture of what a manly man should look like.
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist as the breeze kicked up. Why hadn't she thought things through before licking his finger? Now, look at what she was thinking.
The door opened. She turned at the sound.
Quint held up his finger. "I even poured some peroxide on it, to make you happy."
With his better mood back, her heart thrummed, and she squeezed her thighs together. "Th-that's good. You can never be too careful living out here and being around all the, um, the..."
"Dirt?" He stepped over and sat on the railing.
She stayed on the other side of the steps, keeping her distance. "Yeah."
"So, where'd you learn that trick?"
"Trick?" She leaned against the pole holding the roof over the porch.
"Licking," he said huskily.
"Oh." She looked out into the darkness. "My mom...I guess. Sometime in my past, when I was little, she must've done that for me, but I don't remember."
"You don't mention your parents when you talk." He slapped his arm as if swatting a mosquito.
"Not much to say. By the time I was ten, I was getting up for school on my own and feeding myself because they were too drunk to remember there was a child in the house." She shrugged.
"Right. I remember you saying that." He paused. "Have you thought of asking your parents for help when summer is over, and the campground closes?"
"No." She shook her head. "I've chosen not to have them in my life."
"You need a place to stay until you can get back on your feet. It's the least they could do after not being there for you when you were little."
"If I can't find a job and my money runs out, I'd rather go to a homeless shelter than stay with them. I decided when I was seventeen years old to leave and never go back to watch them die. That's what they're doing, slowly killing themselves, and they don't care enough about themselves or me to change. They've got a sickness." She exhaled, pushing her mom out of her mind. "I don't expect you to understand."
"It's not up to me to come to terms with how you live your life." He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out from under the roof. "You're an adult."
Finally, he recognized that she wasn't a child.
"I'm not trying to push you out of here. You can stay for however long it takes." He flicked the ash off his smoke over the railing.
"Just until the end of summer," she said.
He looked at her. "Thanks for taking care of my finger."
Grateful for the darkness to hide her flush, she nodded. It was best not to say anything because every time he mentioned her licking him, her mind turned dirty.
"Nice night out," muttered Quint.
She cleared her throat. "Yes, it is."
Together, they stared out into the night. He never said any more about her plans of leaving. And, she successfully kept her tongue in her mouth.