Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(25)

Arrow immediately headed in that direction.

Harlow remained in front of the sink with Lowell. She faced him, their bodies extremely close together.

“Being near you makes me realize how badly I must stink,” he said softly. He had grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around her finger and was now putting pressure on the cut, holding her finger captive in his strong grasp.

She shook her head in denial. “You’re fine.”

He chuckled. “I’m not, and I know that because your vanilla scent and the smell of butterscotch and chocolate is almost overpowering.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t ever be sorry for smelling like dessert,” he said huskily.

“This thing is awesome,” Arrow said as he came toward them, making Harlow jerk away from Lowell in embarrassment. But Lowell reached down and put his free hand on her hip, keeping her close.

“It’s got just about everything a professional medic would have,” Arrow continued, riffling through the medical paraphernalia in the first-aid kit.

“Your idea?” Lowell asked, scarily accurately.

Harlow shrugged. “You already know I tend to be clumsy, and with kids around here, I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.”

She couldn’t interpret the look on Lowell’s face, so she turned her attention to Arrow. He was a bit taller than she and Lowell. His hair was very short, almost buzzed, and he was just as muscular as all the men on his team she’d met so far. He was handsome, but she didn’t feel the sparks she felt when she looked at Lowell.

“It looks like the bleeding has almost stopped.”

Harlow looked down at her finger and saw that Lowell had taken the pressure off and was examining the cut closely. His neck was bent as he was looking at her finger, and Harlow’s hand actually twitched with the intention of brushing a lock of hair off his forehead, but she caught herself before she did something super embarrassing.

“I’m fine,” she said. “You have no idea how many times I’ve cut myself. It’s a job hazard. Just throw a Band-Aid on there.”

Without a reply, Lowell looked at Arrow. “I’ll need some Steri-Strips, hydrogen peroxide, a regular Band-Aid, and some antibiotic cream.”

“Coming right up,” Arrow said, digging around in the first-aid kit.

“Seriously, Lowell, all I need—” She didn’t finish her sentence because Lowell wrapped his arm around her waist and steered her over to a section of counter that she’d already cleaned after making the brownies.

“On the count of three, hop up,” he told her.

“What? No, Lowell.”

“One. Two. Three.”

With no choice, Harlow did as he ordered and gave a little hop to help him boost her up on the counter. He held her waist firmly until she had her balance, then moved one hand to her knee. He gently pushed it outward until he was standing between her legs.

Harlow knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t control it no matter how hard she tried. Her legs were spread, and if the counter were just a bit shorter, she would have been crotch to crotch with Lowell.

He took her hand in his once more and busied himself doctoring the slight cut. After he dabbed the hydrogen peroxide on her skin, he gently blew on her finger, trying to soothe the slight sting. Then he used the Steri-Strips to hold the cut together, slathered the antibiotic goo on it, and covered everything with a Band-Aid. The entire process took only a minute or two, but Harlow had never felt so cared for as she did right at that moment.

“Okay?” he asked, resting his hands on either side of her hips on the granite countertop and leaning closer.

Harlow nodded.

“Good. I’d like you to meet another teammate of mine. This is Arrow. Arrow, this is Harlow Reese. One of two cooks for the shelter and one hell of a pool player.”

Harlow managed to take her eyes off Lowell’s to look over at his friend. “Hi.” She ignored the heat coming from Lowell’s forearms as they touched her outer thighs.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious. Chocolate?” Arrow asked. “Morgan would love it.”

“Morgan?”

“My girlfriend. Morgan Byrd.”

Harlow stared at him in surprise, but was too polite to ask the question on the tip of her tongue.

But her curiosity was obviously plain to see on her face, because he said, “Yes, that Morgan Byrd. She’s doing wonderfully.”

“Oh my. I admire her so much!” Harlow gushed. “I mean, I don’t know everything she went through, but I saw the interview she did with Barbara Walters, and I cried for her. I can’t imagine being kidnapped and held for a year.” Then something occurred to her. She whipped her head back around and stared at Lowell. “That was you guys? You found her?”

“That was us,” Lowell said quietly.

Harlow gripped his wrists tightly. “Oh my God! That must’ve been so scary.”

“I’m not sure I would say scary, but it was definitely a surprise,” he said with a small smile.

She turned back to Arrow. “I can get you the recipe. No! I’ll make another batch, and you can bring them to her.” She pushed at the man standing in front of her. “Move, Lowell. I need to get the flour back out. Oh crap, I might not have enough butterscotch! I need to go to the store—”