“Nope.” He played with the remote, tossing it up and down. “Not really.”
“Ethan.”
“Ava.”
I clenched my jaw. “You are impossible.” I reached over to make a swipe for the remote. He was faster than me, though, and he threw his arm out, holding the remote as far away from me as I could.
A little growly noise escaped my throat, and I clambered off the sofa to get it. Fighting a laugh, he switched hands when I got close to it. Even though I was standing up, he still had the advantage because he was so much taller than me.
It sucked.
I leaned over to reach for it, but he moved, jerking to the side. I did the same, going for it again, but my foot slipped on the hard floor, and I fell forward.
And landed right on Ethan.
I shrieked. A big “oomph” left him as he dropped the remote and grabbed hold of me instead. His hands gripped my waist, stopping me from ramming my knee into his stomach.
Or his balls.
His fingers dug right into me. I was frozen in position, half-straddling him, with my hair forming a dark curtain between our faces. I couldn’t move because if I did, I knew I’d have to look him in the eye, and I wasn’t sure I could do that right now.
If I did, there was every chance I’d do something I would most definitely regret.
Like kiss him.
God.
I had to move.
I cleared my throat and, with the help of his steady grip, pushed myself up to stand. My legs backed into the coffee table, and I stumbled again, this time sending both my wine glass and Ethan’s beer flying to the floor.
“Oh, shit!” I gasped, jumping over the huge wet mess and broken wine glass that’d shattered over the carpet.
“Jesus, Ava! Were you drinking on the job tonight?”
“Oh, fuck off.” I grabbed damp cloths from the sink and tossed them over to him.
He caught them easily and immediately dropped to his knees to get as much liquid as he could. I grabbed a bowl to squeeze them out in and handed it to him when I went to fetch some towels.
I ducked into the bathroom. There were three hooks, and Ethan’s towel was stretched across all three and my two were on the floor. I frowned, but I didn’t have time to think about that right now.
I rejoined him in the living room where he was muttering to himself with his finger in his mouth. “Are you okay?”
“Cut my finger,” he murmured around it. He pulled it away to look, and it immediately started bleeding.
“Oh, my God. If you get that on my sofa, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Thanks.” He put it back in his mouth.
“Come here.” I tossed two towels on the sofa and kept the third—his, the darkest one.
Ethan got up and walked around the coffee table, completely avoiding the mess on the floor. “It’s not that bad,” he said, pulling it from his mouth again.
More blood.
I shoved the towel at him. “Put pressure on it, and I’ll bandage it. If it doesn’t slow down, I’ll take you to the emergency room.”
He put the towel on the island counter and pressed his finger right into it. “I know you want to win this little battle, but this is an extreme way of doing it.”
“You’re not worth the wine I wasted,” I snapped back. “It was an accident, and you know it.”
“I know. But you owe me a towel.”
I rolled my eyes and set the first aid kit next to his hand. “You know there’s a thing called a washing machine, right?”
“Yeah, but bloodstains.”
“It’s hardly a white towel, you drama queen.” I got the rubbing alcohol and bandages out of the kit and soaked a cotton pad in the alcohol. “Give me your finger.”
He did as I said and flipped his hand so I could access the cut. It was bigger than I’d thought, but it didn’t look like it needed stitches. Hopefully, it was one of those weird cuts that looked ten times worse than it was.
Gently, I pressed the cotton pad against the cut. A hiss escaped him, and his entire body went taut.
“Sorry,” I whispered, wincing a little.
“Get on with it.” His voice was a low grumble, and I spared a glance up at his face. His skin was a little paler than usual, and he had his eyes screwed tightly shut.
Maybe the emergency room wasn’t a bad idea…
I dabbed it a few more times with the alcohol pad, then quickly put another on top of it. I waited for a second, but the blood didn’t come through.
“Hold that there,” I instructed Ethan so I could get the tape. I got it and secured the pad to his finger, then stepped back and looked over my handiwork. “Not bad.”
Actually, it looked a little bit like a ten-year-old wrapping the paw of a stuffed bear, but if it worked, it worked.
“Well,” Ethan said, admiring his finger. “It’s not going to win any nursing awards anytime soon.”
“Normal people say ‘thank you.’”
“Normal people don’t throw themselves around like a clown for a TV remote.”
“Watch out,” I said, rolling the dirty towel into a ball. “Or you’ll have a cut a lot bigger than that one to worry about.”
His lips tugged to one side. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I returned his smile, albeit slightly shyly.
He stepped around the corner of the island and reached out, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. He pulled me against his body and hugged me tightly, and I swear all my nerve endings came alive in that second.
His fingers were wrapped around my arm, and my front was pressed right against his. Taking a deep breath, I could smell coconut and papaya from where he’d obviously stolen my shampoo, but there was a lingering scent of motor oil, too.
This was the first time we’d ever been this close. In fact, it was the first time he’d ever hugged me, and a part of me hated that he was doing it right now.
Because my heart was pounding. And there was no way he couldn’t feel it against his chest.
“All right. Get off, or I’m going to think you like me.” I extracted myself from his arms and ducked my head so he wouldn’t see the blush I knew was already warming my cheeks.
The last thing he needed to know was that I was the one with some weirdo feelings.
I busied myself putting the first aid kit away under the sink. “I’ll get the broken glass, and you do the liquid.”
“Yeah, I’m not touching that glass.”
I went back over and carefully picked up all the glass, thankfully without slicing my own fingers open. Ethan worked to get up as much water as possible, and I grabbed a dustpan and brush to clean it up. It was too late to vacuum, and I didn’t think my downstairs neighbor would appreciate the interruption.
He was a grumpy old bastard as it was.
I swept the whole area. If I’d missed any, it was going to really suck.
“So, what have we learned here tonight?” Ethan asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Don’t hide the remote from the short girl,” I shot back.
He shook his head. “No. The remote control is sacred in a man’s hand.”
“You know what else is sacred? Your balls. The remote could cost you money if it doesn’t stop bleeding. Don’t let your attitude cost you your balls.”