“I think I’ll go reel him in. You don’t want him getting scared and taking off.” Mercy took off across the yard as Lincoln flipped the burgers and moved the hot dogs around. The smoke billowed from the grill, chasing Lincoln no matter where he stood.
It had been a full day since his accident, and Red still wore the bandage on his face. Lincoln needed to take a look at it. He didn’t want any kind of infection to set in.
In truth, he was surprised Red had showed up. Any other time Lincoln barbequed, Red had stayed away. It was something Lincoln liked to do for his workers to show his appreciation.
“I’ll take over.” Mercy returned, Red in tow. “I’m the one with the grill skills.”
Lincoln snorted. “You wish. I can outcook you on the grill any day of the week.”
“But not in the kitchen.” Mercy pointed out a fact. Meat, Lincoln could do. Anything else and he’d either burn it or undercook it. The last time he tried to make pasta he’d let the noodles cook too long. It had taken him a while after that to enjoy pasta again.
“You got me there.” Lincoln turned to Red. “I want to take a look under your bandage to make sure your skin isn’t hot, swollen, or any pus is coming out.”
“Gag,” Mercy said. “Now you’ve ruined my appetite.”
“Hey, boss.” Jason walked up and smiled at Lincoln. “Glad to be eatin’ some of your cookin’ today.”
“Mercy has the grill.” Lincoln coaxed Red toward the house.
“I think Jason has a crush on you,” Red commented. “You’re all he talked about today.”
“Jason?” Lincoln looked over his shoulder to see Jason was grinning at him. “Nah, he’s just a nice guy.”
“If you say so.” Red followed him into the house. Lincoln was surprised that his mate hadn’t argued about someone fussing over him. Not that Red had argued yesterday, but he’d done everything possible to avoid Lincoln since starting on the ranch.
After Red obediently sat on the closed lid of the toilet, Lincoln peeled back the bandage. “I’m gonna clean it again. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Hell no.” Red jumped up and backed away. “I’m not having you set my face on fire again.”
“Sit down, you big baby. I’m gonna use peroxide this time. I swear peroxide doesn’t hurt. It just bubbles a lot if the wound is dirty.”
“Does it look okay?” Red asked.
“It’s not red or swollen.”
“Then there you have it,” Red said. “There’s no need to torture me.”
Red had no idea the ways Lincoln wanted to torture him. In the bed, over the back of the couch, on the kitchen table. Anywhere he could bend the guy over.
Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to wrestle you down?”
Fuck, now he was half-hard and trying to control his tiger from jumping free.
A spark lit up Red’s green eyes. Lincoln tried not to put too much meaning into that look, but hell if he didn’t wish Red would drop his pants right there in the bathroom and beg Lincoln to fuck him.
“I’ll do it myself.” Red held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. Lincoln handed over the bottle.
“Maybe if you do a good job we can switch from the gauze to a Snoopy Band-Aid.”
Red stilled and looked at Lincoln through the mirror. Lincoln feared he’d gone too far by the crease between Red’s brows. “I won’t settle for anything less than an Iron Man or Thor Band-Aid.”
Lincoln smiled. “I’ll see what Mercy can do about that.”
“Is Mercy your gofer?” Red used a wad of tissue to catch the peroxide as he poured it over his cheek.
“He’s the cook, which he loves. I would never ask my brother to do anything belittling or something he wouldn’t want to do. Mercy loves taking trips into town.”
Through the mirror Lincoln saw Red’s expression shut down. Puzzle pieces were starting to click together. The mention of the doctor had had the same reaction. Was it the town itself? Was Red afraid of being seen? Why?
But Lincoln had learned a valuable lesson yesterday. Prying into Red’s life was met with resistance and anger. But damn. Lincoln was dying to pull his mate into his arms, to hold him close until Red was comfortable enough to tell him what in the hell was going on. Why was Red hiding things, as if he were a fugitive on the lam?
“I think you’ve got it cleaned out.” Lincoln brushed his body against Red’s to retrieve the bottle. Red sucked in a quick breath. Lincoln moved back and made enough room for his mate to run from him.
And that was exactly what Red did. Lincoln cursed as he put the bottle back into the medicine cabinet.
Then Red stuck his head back into the bathroom, looking completely serious. “I forgot my Snoopy Band-Aid.”
Hiding his smile, Lincoln pulled the small box out of the cabinet and tossed them to Red. “Don’t be putting them on old boo-boos.”
“No promises,” Red said before he walked away.
When Lincoln made it outside, he relieved Mercy at the grill. “I need you to run into town. Red wants Marvel Band-Aids.”
Mercy burst out laughing. “I’m liking him more and more. I’ll put it on my shopping list for tomorrow.”
From the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Red sitting with Jason and Brett. Jason was glaring at Lincoln’s mate while Brett talked animatedly with his hands.
Was there any stock to what Red had said? Did Jason have rosy eyes for Lincoln? The guy had been working on the ranch for over two months, and honestly, Lincoln had never paid him any unnecessary attention.
“I’ll go grab the side dishes so we can get this dinner underway.” Mercy walked off, and Lincoln tried his hardest not to look Red’s way while the others were around.
It made for one long-ass afternoon.
Chapter Three
The following morning after the cookout Red stood in the mirror and looked at the jagged wound on his cheek. Lincoln hadn’t done half-bad. There was going to be a scar, but the lines looked aligned, telling him he wouldn’t have much scar tissue to make the wound look nasty.
He was in the bunkhouse bathroom, the other men already up and moving around. Red was not used to this early-morning shit. The birds hadn’t even started chirping yet and it was still dark out. He was used to sleeping in until around ten in the morning before getting up and slowly starting his day.
That was what he’d loved about being his own boss. Red had set his own hours, and they never consisted of waking up at the crack of dawn.
He put a Snoopy Band-Aid over the wound, having to use a few of them to cover it. He could’ve just stuck with gauze, but…damn. Whether Red liked to admit it or not, he’d gone with the Band-Aids because Lincoln had teased him about them.
Jason walked into the bathroom, which was the size of a small locker room, including a long row of stall showers and a lengthy counter with four sinks.
“I’m pretty sure you can still suck up to Lincoln with that cut on your face.” Jason stripped out of his pajamas and got into the first stall. “Clearly Lincoln has low standards.”
Red clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to get into an argument with the jerk. Ever since Lincoln had taken Red into his house yesterday to exam his wound, Jason had been pissy as hell. Red normally didn’t get into verbal altercations, and he wasn’t going to start now.