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The broom lowered. A click, then a sudden flash of bright light blinded him.
“Mr. Matthews?” she asked as she aimed the flashlight directly at his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get into this cabin.” He squinted against the harsh light. “Mind lowering that thing?”
“Oh, right.” She moved the beam to the ground. “I didn’t see a car when I pulled up.”
“I parked around back.”
“I’m confused. My uncle lives here.”
“He rented the cabin to me. I’ve been trying to find the key but it’s not where he said he left it.” Deke cradled his left hand. First he’d dropped a heavy planter on it while hunting for the key, then he’d knocked into a patio table. His fingers throbbed. He felt moisture and suspected he was bleeding.
“It’s usually under the plant,” his soon-to-be boss said.
“There’s more than one in the back.”
“No. It should be here in the front.”
“I just looked.”
She turned the light to the front porch, skipping over the large decorative planters to a small potted plant situated beside the steps.
“He said planter.”
“Probably he just said plant.”
She walked over, tipped the pot and sure enough, the light hit on a shiny silver key. She grabbed it and held it up. “See.”
“I could have sworn he said planter.”
“He’s out fishing and when he’s off by himself he usually chews tobacco. Maybe you misunderstood him.” She held out the key. When he reached for it, she angled the light on his hand and gasped. “You’re bleeding.”
“Yeah,” he said as the aftereffect of his inept search grew increasingly painful.
She took hold of his arm. “C’mon.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my place. I have bandages.”
“I’m okay, really. Now that I have the key I’ll go inside and clean up.”
Tugging on his arm, she said, “No way. I couldn’t in good conscience let my newest employee bleed out.”
“I’m hardly in danger of bleeding out.”
“But we don’t know that since it’s dark and we can’t properly see the damage.”
Ignoring his protest, she dragged him across the property to a matching cabin. She had him inside in seconds flat, pointing left. “This way to the kitchen.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Mostly.”
In the bright light he could now see a gash across his palm. Two of his fingers were turning a faint purple.
“Goodness, what did you do?”
“I lost my balance when the planter fell on my hand and I bumped into the patio table. It toppled over and I cut myself on the edge of the glass top.”
She took his hand, studied it for a second, then nudged him to the sink. “Rinse that off,” she commanded, then disappeared. Moments later she reappeared with boxes of bandages, hydrogen peroxide, a small tube of what he guessed was some sort of salve and whatever else an injured man needed.
“Is it deep?” she asked as she dumped the supplies on the counter. “Should we go to the emergency room?”
He winced as the warm water trickled over the cut. “I don’t think so.”
“Any glass in it?”
“Not that I can see.”
She took hold of his hand again. “Sure you don’t need stitches?”
He tried not to be insulted. Stitches? For a medium-sized cut? “A butterfly will do.”
She glanced up at him. “You’re trying to act all manly, aren’t you?”
“I am manly. And like I told you at the office earlier, I know first aid. A butterfly should be fine.”
She fished through the box to find the bandage. “If you say so.”
“Mind getting me a towel?” he asked when a thin line of red still ran off his hand.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a towel. He took it and covered his palm.
“That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” she informed him.
“It hurts right now.”
She grinned. “Not so manly after all?”
He ignored the teasing.
Once his hand was dry, he lifted the towel to find the blood welling over the cut, but not gushing. He applied pressure again while she opened the bottle of peroxide. “This is going to sting,” she warned.
“I know, but the cut needs to be cleaned.” He removed the towel and braced himself. “Anytime you’re ready.”
Grace lowered his hand over the sink and poured. The muscle in his jaw jumped, but that was all the satisfaction he’d give her after she’d insulted his manliness. Yes, it hurt like crazy but he sucked in a deep breath.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” he grunted.
Finished, she grabbed another towel and placed it over the cut. “Give that a few seconds to work and I’ll place the bandage.”
While she tidied up, Deke blew out a breath and rested his hip against the counter. With the worst part over, he now noticed his boss’s blond hair glow under the harsh kitchen lighting. Her fair skin attested to her not personally leading the outdoor tours. He was intrigued by the softness that was in direct contrast to her very take-control attitude.
“So,” he said, “you’re a nurse, too?”
“No, but after years of working with vacation clients, I know first aid.”
“Makes sense.” He lifted the towel, glad to see the bleeding was minimal. “Let’s get the bandage on now.”
Grace unwrapped the butterfly and within seconds had it secure. Blood seeped around it.
“Still needs pressure.”
Grabbing a box of gauze, she unrolled a long length and wrapped it around his palm with enough pressure to stanch any more blood flow. She tied it off, then looked up at him, a smile of victory curving her lips.
Their gazes met and held. A ripple of awareness took him by surprise. Yeah, he’d noticed how pretty his new boss was when he’d applied for the job, but this? This was a feeling he hadn’t felt in far too long. He blinked as he tried to get his wayward thoughts under control. Her smile faded and she slowly backed away.
“Um, that should do for now,” she said in a crisp tone as she packed away the supplies. “I suggest you see a doctor tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” he said, striving to get his voice under control. “For everything.”
She nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He inhaled a decidedly floral scent. Cherry blossom? Even her perfume suited her.
“I should get going,” he finally said.
“Right.” Grace led him to the door. “Sorry about nearly clobbering you in the head. I thought you were a raccoon. Or worse, a burglar.”
“Serves me right for making a racket.”
She tilted her head. “You’re not very good at breaking and entering.”
He grinned and silence hovered between them again.
“I should probably go get settled,” he said again.
“Look, you don’t have to come in tomorrow,” she said, glancing down at his bandaged hand.
“It’s okay. I’d like to learn about the company and find out what kinds of tours you have scheduled.”
She nodded. “Then I’ll bring the coffee. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks, Miss Harper.”
“I think after tonight’s events, you can call me Grace.”
“Deke.”
“I remember.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Grace.”
She opened the door. “If you don’t feel well during the night, don’t hesitate to come over and wake me up.”
“I can handle this.”
“Then have a good night.”
He nodded again and stepped outside to make his way to the cabin. As he walked across the loose gravel, then the damp grass, his eyes lit on a firepit between the two cabins, visible in the moonlight. The cool night air felt good on his heated face.
Dipping his good hand into his jeans pocket to remove the key he’d slid there after Grace had found it, he unlocked the door. He turned on the light switch and made his way around, familiarizing himself with his temporary home. When he’d finished, he went outside to bring in his duffel from the back of the Jeep Wrangler. By now, his head ached along with his hand. He found pain reliever in the bathroom, popped two and finally sank down on the couch in the living room.
Blowing out a breath, he muttered, “Great first impression, Matthews.”
Getting cut might temporarily throw a snag in his plans, but thankfully Miss Harper—Grace—hadn’t told him he was fired before he started.
Grace. Even the name suited her. She was tough and caring, a surprising combination that he’d do well not to let get the better of him. He was here to lose himself in work, not notice his new boss.
CHAPTER THREE (#u814b1cb9-63d4-557d-b6b7-6bf353ac817e)
THE NEXT MORNING, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted Deke as he walked into the office. Just what he needed after a miserable night of tossing and turning. His palm had throbbed, despite the pain relievers. After staring at the ceiling for hours, he’d gotten up at dawn to take a much-needed run through the woods. No sleep meant his mind was too busy obsessing over things he didn’t have the power to change, mainly Britt’s senseless death.
When he’d made his way along the path that skirted his side of the lake before veering off to the woods, he’d gotten his heart rate high enough that all he concentrated on was breathing. He’d returned to the cabin, soaking wet and winded, then cleaned up the mess he’d made on the back patio. He couldn’t deny that the incredible scenery, tall pines and the water lapping the dank soil beside the lake, calmed his spirit. More so than Atlanta or even his childhood home in Florida. He needed to get his head in the game, not keep dwelling on the past. His brothers were depending on him to find information on James Tate and he was determined to carry through.
Grace was on the phone but pointed to the cup waiting for him on the counter. As he removed the lid, a burst of steam escaped before he took his first slug of the morning. Inwardly sighing, he hoped the caffeine would soon do its magic.
“Yes, sir, we have available openings for that date.” A frown pinched her pretty face. “I can’t promise that Nathan will be leading the group, but I will certainly put him as your first choice. Thanks so much for booking with Put Your Feet Up vacations.”
She jotted a few notes before looking up. “We’re getting busy.”
“Good to hear.”
She took her soda can and rose from the desk. Again, she’d dressed in a power suit. Yeah, he recognized one when he saw it. Today she wore a navy waist-length jacket and pants, with a white blouse. High-heeled pumps completed the look. Since he didn’t have to dress professionally for this job, he’d chosen a T-shirt, jeans and boots for comfort over presentation.
“How’s the hand this morning?” she asked, nodding in that direction.
“Better.” He’d tended to it when he got back from the run, happy the cut wasn’t going to give him problems and that the bruised fingers were no worse than last night. “Not as deep as you would have thought.” He held up his palm. “Just a large bandage today.”
“Good. I felt really bad about what happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but it is my uncle’s place.”
“Serves me right for fumbling around in the dark.”
