The bathroom was more of the same, larger than she’d expected, double sinks, both a tub and a separate shower with a glass door. It smelled of soap and felt somewhat humid. It had been so long since she’d encountered that combination that she skidded to a stop, her brow knitting in puzzlement. The shower door was open, and she noticed that the floor of the shower was damp. Not only that, the towel hanging on the rack looked recently used.
“You . . . your shower still works?” And though the wood-burning stove was in the living area, the bedroom and bath were warmer than she’d have expected, certainly warmer than hers was.
“Gravity system, and solar panels for heating the water.”
Hot water. She swallowed a moan. She missed television, she missed being able to go to the grocery store and buy whatever she wanted, she missed central air and heat, but most of all she missed being able to take a hot shower.
He got out an impressive first-aid kit and placed it on the vanity, then lowered the lid on the toilet and straddled it backward. “Just put some clotting powder on it and I’ll be fine.”
Sela unzipped the sturdy black kit and spread it open, looked through it to see what was there. She took out antiseptic wipes, antibiotic salve, the envelope of blood-clotting powder, some adhesive bandages, looked for some disposable gloves but didn’t see any and mentally shrugged. Somewhat hesitantly she turned on the hot-water faucet, because despite what she was seeing, believing verged on a miracle. The water began flowing.
“Oh my Lord,” she said softly as she picked up the soap and began washing her hands.
“What?”
“Running water.” Her hands were clean. She didn’t bother drying them, just took two pads of gauze, held one under the water, and then plopped it over the bloody one on his back. The other pad of gauze she pressed against his skin below, to catch the red rivulets. When the bandage was soaked, she gently peeled at it again. The stuck part released a little, but more blood began welling up.
“Just pull it off, get it done,” he said, glancing over his bare shoulder at her.
Maybe that was the best way, because it was going to bleed regardless. The pad was soaked, she couldn’t get it any wetter. Wincing a little, she caught hold of the upper edge of the pad and gave it a firm pull. It came free, and she immediately slapped it back over the wound and put as much pressure as she could on it.
“Use the clotting powder.”
“Just dust it on?”
“It takes more than that.” He leaned forward some. “Pour it on and pat it in with your fingers.”
She tore open the envelope and poured some of the white granules on the bloody wound, then used her finger to wipe most of it into a pile where the bleeding was worse, where she then patted it in as he’d instructed. After a few seconds the clotting began, and in less than half a minute the bleeding had stopped.
In silence she began cleaning around the wound, then, when the bleeding didn’t resume, she gently blotted away the stained granules. The skin was broken in a jagged pattern, rather than a cut. The area around it was swollen and bruised. “Too bad we don’t have ice,” she murmured, then paused. “Or do you?”
“Not at the moment.”
Indicating he could have ice if he wanted it bad enough. “What don’t you have?”
“No satellite television, air conditioner, or internet.”
“I miss all three of those,” she admitted softly, blotting the wound with an antiseptic pad. “Not as much as running water, though.” She examined the jagged edges. “I think you do need a stitch or two.”
“Not bad enough for me to go hunting someone to sew me up, unless you’re volunteering. There are sutures in the kit.”
“I’ll try if you want me to.” Dubiously she eyed the wound. “I’ve never done anything like that before, though.” She didn’t know how she would stomach sticking a needle through his skin, but come to that, just three months ago she wouldn’t have thought she could handle any of the things that defined her life now. She had, and if Ben needed stitches she would manage that, too.
“Just stick some butterfly bandages on it, that’s all it needs.”
She didn’t quite agree with that, but used more antiseptic pads to make certain the wound was clean, then applied antibiotic salve. As she worked she became aware that this certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt. A puckered scar formed a white star close to his waistline on the left. A long, narrow ridge bisected his back from the left shoulder across his spine to wrap around his rib cage on the right. The pad of his right shoulder, right above the current wound, bore a small, thick scar as if the muscle had been gouged. This would be yet another scar, given the unevenness of the break in the skin.
She didn’t know much about the military but she did know he’d been in service and his was a warrior’s body, a living testimony to pain, sacrifice, and a spirit of steel. With these scars he’d either seen combat or maybe had a hell of a vehicle accident. She put her money on combat. Perhaps he’d always been a solitary person, but she thought his withdrawal from people had more to do with his experiences than his personality. Her heart swelled with pain for him. She would have stroked those scars, but sensed that he wouldn’t welcome it. However he had gotten them was his past to share or not.
As gently as possible she pulled the ragged edges together and positioned several butterfly bandages over the wound, then covered that with a thick gauze pad that she taped into place. “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen plenty on television, and I doctored plenty of Olivia’s boo-boos. Don’t chop any wood for a week, and don’t get this wet.”
He glanced over his shoulder and this time she definitely saw amusement. “How am I supposed to shower?”
“Ah . . . okay, don’t shower for two days. If you’re not doing hard manual labor, you won’t be getting all that dirty and sweaty, right?” She began putting the first-aid kit to rights. “But keep an eye on it. If it shows signs of infection, don’t ignore that. Come down to the valley and I’ll do something. We have a couple of herbalists who can make a good poultice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He got to his feet and turned to face her, and wow, his chest. Sela quickly looked away before she embarrassed herself again. She had regained her equilibrium thanks to the way he’d kissed her, but that didn’t mean she’d lost her memory of how he’d so easily said “no” to her offer.
He put his hands on her waist just as he had before, his thumbs rubbing on each side of her navel in a subtle but potent caress that made her nipples and vagina tighten in response, made her want to flow toward him until their bodies were touching. Part of her was still astonished that he was touching her, and that astonishment kept her in place though she couldn’t stop herself from putting her own hands on his muscled forearms. “I’ll be there tomorrow morning, and I’ll talk to the valley people,” he muttered, his sharp green gaze on her mouth, then moving down to her breasts. “When we have sex, it won’t be because of any negotiation or part of any deal. It’ll be because we want it. Are you clear on that?”
Mutely she nodded. When they had sex. Like it was inevitable.