Doc scowled and pushed her fingers back under the water. “Keep them there.”
“But I have to get your meal into the microwave.”
Doc muttered something under his breath and held her hand there himself as Archer placed another meal in the microwave.
Finally, he turned the tap off and inspected her finger. “Are you gonna kiss it and make it feel all better?”
She’d intended for it to sound sarcastic. Instead, it came out with a hint of longing. Doc eyed her but thankfully, he didn’t say anything. He simply pointed to the table. “Sit.”
“Surely, he’s not always this bossy,” she said to Archer.
“I could tell you that he’s not,” Archer replied as he set the cooked meal on a plate then put it in front of her. “But I don’t like to lie.”
Doc continued to mutter under his breath as he returned with an oversized first-aid kit that she knew for sure wasn’t hers.
“That’s the biggest first-aid kid I’ve ever seen.”
“He likes to be prepared for everything,” Archer told her as Doc drew out a cream for her burns.
By the time Doc finished with her finger, it had a huge white bandage around it that was going to make it damn hard to eat or type.
“Umm, do you really think this is necessary?”
“Yes,” Doc replied. He stood and grabbing the first-aid kit, walked back into the spare bedroom.
Archer put another meal on the table. He grinned as he saw her fingers. She narrowed her gaze up at him. “It’s not funny. How am I supposed to eat? Or type? This is my dominant hand.”
She’d likely make a complete mess if she ate her food with a fork held in her left hand. She reached for the bandage, determined to pull it off.
“Don’t even think about it,” Doc told her, coming back and sitting next to her.
“I can’t use a fork with my left hand. My food will go everywhere.”
“I’ll feed you then.” He slid her plate towards himself then forked some up. Instead of pushing the fork towards her, he lightly blew on it. “Too hot. You’ll burn your mouth.”
Okay, she should probably be weirded out by that. But it was something Dave would have done. And it sent a pang of longing through her. She stood.
“I have to work.”
“Sit down.”
“I’m on a deadline.”
“Sit. Down.” His voice grew lower.
She glanced over at Archer, thinking he might be the voice of reason. But he was setting the last meal down on the table. He gave her a concerned look but didn’t say anything to rein his brother back in.
Damn it.
“I’m not hungry.”
Please don’t let her tummy grumble and make a liar of her.
“Caley,” Doc rumbled.
Jesus. Again with her name. Why did it sound so sexy when he said it? How was that fair? Her knees went weak and she found herself slumping into her seat. “Fine,” she muttered ungraciously. “But I’ll feed myself.”
“But—”