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“I need to do some research on day spas. We are opening one up at the distillery, which I’m sure you know. Connor oversees that project, but he isn’t really the pamper kind of guy.”
“Connor is the last person you would catch at a spa.” I almost bark a laugh. Connor is a man who’s the epitome of masculine. Lacy giggles, and I feel like I almost puff out my chest at hearing her laugh at something I said.
“Which is why he’s so eager to send me to New York for a week to trial a few research treatments and products. Victoria is coming as well to look at design and aesthetics,” she says, and my eyebrows rise.
“Sounds like a great project and one I think you well deserve,” I tell her, knowing that a break like that is not only good for business but will also be good for Lacy.
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh, sitting on the edge of her desk. “It should be fun.”
“So why are you looking worried?” I ask, stepping closer to her, seeing stress written all over her face.
“It’s just hard to leave Mom for a week. That’s all.” As she rubs her face, I see her exhaustion.
“Have you ever thought about some caretaker support?” I ask her, and she looks at me, confused.
“Caretaker support?” she questions, and a bright idea comes to me.
“Someone who can come in, make some meals, visit your mom, do house chores, that kind of thing. That way, you can work knowing that everything at home is taken care of.” I see her mind ticking over.
“I don’t even know where to find someone. I don’t think there is anyone here in Whispers.”
“Leave it with me. Let me look into it for you,” I say, wanting to do this for her.
“You don’t have to…” Standing, she looks ready to deny she needs the help.
“As your mother’s physician, it’s something I would look into anyway. Having help at home while you are not there is not only beneficial to you but also for your mom.” While the statement is correct, I know using her mom is the only way she might come around to the idea.
“Okay, maybe.” She gives me a small nod of approval, and I smile before I notice her cradling her hand.
“What happened?” I ask, my frown deepening as I automatically walk closer to her.
“Oh, nothing. It’s nothing.” She tries to act casual, but I see her wince. I stand before her and grab her hand, lifting it into the light.
“What is that?” I ask, seeing a small piece of something stuck in the side of her finger.
“Just a thorn,” she says, and I look up at her, surprised.
“Thorn?” I clarify as my hand cups hers carefully.
“I was out in the garden this morning… I just picked a few roses for my office… It was a small prick,” she says, andI look to see the vase of fresh roses on her desk before I try to grab the thorn with my fingers for her. My tweezers from work would be extremely handy right now.
“This morning? This has been in your skin all day?” I question, seeing the skin around it is irritated. While I’m sure the pain is minimal, it would be extremely annoying.
“It’s in my right hand, and my left hand isn’t that coordinated to grab it out. I was just going to get Mom to try to remove it when I got home. It feels a bit stuck.” She says, dropping her hand a little.
I look at her, and my lips thin. She doesn’t even like asking anyone for help here at work. She is so stubborn.
“Give it to me,” I tell her, putting my hand out to her, palm up, waiting for her to place her hand back in mine.
“It's fine,” she says, shrugging it off, trying to minimize the issue.
“Give me your hand, Lacy,” I say in a tone that is a little more demanding, and she huffs before she does exactly what I ask, lifting her hand and placing it softly in mine. I smile, liking that she does what I ask, and I take a closer look at it and then look back at her.
“I don’t have tweezers, but sometimes teeth are better,” I tell her quickly before I lift her hand to my mouth. My eyes meet hers as I hear a small gasp of surprise pass her lips. I move slowly and gently as I put my lips to her skin, and with my eyes firmly on hers. I used to do this all the time around the ranch when I was younger, and even more recently on Harvey. But none of those times did I get a hint of a sweet rose scent. It’s familiar and not from the flowers in the room, but from her fragrance on the inside of her wrist.
Her eyes widen at the contact, her chest rising and falling, mouth agape as I rest my lips against her skin. I get the thorn in between my teeth and remove it, feeling her fingers from where I hold her palm resting against my jaw, her hand almost cupping my cheek. Lowering her hand, I pull the thorn from my teeth and place it on the edge of her desk.
We stand facing each other, me still holding her hand, and I hear her breathing. It’s rapid and my eyes haven’t left hers as tension wraps around us that has my heart pounding in my ears. She’s fucking breathtaking. I swallow roughly, and my eyes flick to her lips, the gloss reflecting the overhead lights. My body moves on instinct.