“Ben, go back in the living room,” Zack says as he walks toward me.

“Is Kate okay?” Ben asks in a small voice.

“Sure I am,” I tell him with a brave smile. “Just a small cut. Go back and play your game and dinner will be ready soon.”

“I want to see,” Ben whines, and takes a step closer.

“Ben…living room…now,” Zack says in a stern voice. He doesn’t pull that voice out often for Ben, but when he does, it gets results. Never once considering further argument, Ben spins around and runs for the living room.

Even before his back is turned on us and he’s scampering out of the kitchen, Zack is taking my hand in his and pulling the paper towel away. “Let me see it.”

I turn my head to the side. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad,” he says after a moment, and relief courses through me. “I don’t think it’s deep enough for stitches, but you cut it good. I think a Band-Aid will do, though. Wait here and keep pressure on it.”

Zack turns and heads back through the living room, and presumably into his bedroom. I imagine that’s where he keeps his first-aid kit. I hold the paper towel tight to my finger, which is starting to throb a bit.

Zack is back in a flash and has peroxide, gauze, and a Band-Aid in hand.

“Jesus, Kate…you’re as pale as a ghost,” he says as he approaches me.

“I don’t do blood well,” I mutter as I support myself against the counter with one hand and hold my paper towel–wrapped hand against my chest.

“Big baby,” Zack teases, and his calm surety coupled with levity in this moment takes my mind off my finger. Taking hold of one of my elbows as he grasps his supplies in his other hand, he leads me over to the kitchen table. While he lays out everything, I kick one of the chairs back and take a seat. Zack pulls another chair out and faces it toward me, sitting so our knees are touching.

I hold my hand out and he gently removes the paper towel from the cut, but leaves it cradled under my hand. Pulling my hand forward, he rests it on his thigh before releasing it. “Just hold it there.”

I do as commanded, and my cut is immediately forgotten as the heat of Zack’s leg penetrates his jeans, the paper towel, and my skin. It’s the first time I’ve ever touched his body and I’m immediately overwhelmed.

My mind is in a haze as he uncaps the peroxide and pours it over the cut. He picks up a gauze pad and holds it to the cut, soaking up the liquid and making sure the skin is dried sufficiently. Then he opens a Band-Aid and says, “Lift your hand a bit.”

I do, mourning the loss of contact with his leg, which is so very stupid, and watch as he wraps the Band-Aid snugly around the end of my index finger. With one hand he takes hold of my wrist, and with the other he smooths down the edges of the bandage.

Looking up at me, he says, “There. All better.”

He doesn’t release my wrist.

“Thanks,” I say, amazed that I’m able to speak, because my mouth is so dry all of a sudden.

“So you don’t do blood well, huh?” he asks with a playful smile, still holding my wrist, and is that…? Yes, his thumb is stroking my skin there.

Shaking my head, I can’t form any words as I just stare at him.

He stares right back, the warm brown irises flecked with a hint of gold holding me captive.

His thumb continues to graze my wrist and long moments turn into the past as we just look at each other, which is partially awkward, yet I can’t turn away.

I most certainly don’t have the power to pull my wrist out of his grasp, but the moment is broken when Ben yells out, “It’s your turn, Daddy.”

Zack slowly releases my wrist and lowers his gaze. Slapping the palms of his hands on his thighs, he gives a shake of his head and stands up from the chair. “Better get back in there.”

I scramble up from the chair, muttering, “I’ll finish dinner. Thanks for the first aid, HOS.”

“Sure,” he says quietly, and I turn and head back toward the tomatoes that still need chopping.

When I reach the counter, I still feel a little dizzy and I know that has nothing to do with the blood but everything to do with Zack’s magical touch. I quickly pick up the knife from the floor and lay it beside the cutting board. Placing both of my hands on the edge of the counter, I bow my head and take in a deep breath.

Get it together, Kate.

“Are you okay?” Zack says from behind me.

Startled, I whip around to find him standing just a foot away. I press backward into the corner of the L-shaped counter, resting my hands back on the edge once more for support.

“Yeah,” I say shakily. “Just a bad patient, I guess.”

Zack laughs. “I’ve seen worse. Ben pitches a fit when I try to clean up one of his scrapes. Good thing a kiss when I’m done always seems to make it better for the little man.”

“I imagine a kiss from you would definitely make everything better,” I blurt out, and the minute the words leave my mouth, I clap my hand hard over my lips. My eyes widen and my face turns beet red.

Did I really just say that?

Zack’s eyes narrow at me and his jaw clenches. So hard, in fact, that a tiny muscle starts jumping right at the corner.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-orry,” I stutter as my hand falls away from my mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean…a father’s kiss and all that. Of course it would make Ben feel better. Fatherly lips…that’s all I meant.”