With his hands deep in the suds, he winked. “Grab a towel and start drying. We’ll have these done in no time.” He washed each dish quickly and efficiently and up to Dezi’s standards.
“By the way, why aren’t we using the commercial dishwasher?” He nodded his head toward the shiny, stainless-steel appliance.
With her hands busy drying, Dezi’s pulse slowly returned to normal. “It’s been down for a week. We’re waiting on a part.” She finished drying a plate, stacked it in a cupboard and reached for another.
When their fingers touched, a shock of electricity blasted across her nerves. Dezi jerked her hand back instead of taking the plate.
Unfortunately, Grimm had already released the plate. It fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces.
“Oh, dear,” Dezi dropped to her haunches and picked up the larger shards.
Grimm squatted beside her and helped.
Mad at herself for being hyper-aware of the man, Dezi didn’t pay enough attention to the broken pieces of plate. A sharp edge jabbed into her finger. Dezi frowned down at the blood oozing from the cut.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve cut yourself. Let me look.” Grimm wrapped his big hand around her wrist and studied the cut, his brow knitting. “You might need stitches.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. There’s a first aid kit in the pantry.” Dezi tilted her head toward the door. “It’s hanging against the wall inside the door.”
Grimm yanked a paper towel from a roll, folded it into a square and pressed it to her fingertip. “Stay here and apply pressure to stop the bleeding.”
She nodded and pressed the paper towel against her finger. “I’m fine. Really.”
His lips pressed into a tight line. “Apply pressure,” he commanded and crossed to the door she’d indicated, snagged the first aid kit and returned.
Dezi’s gaze followed him the entire time, her heart thumping against her ribs. She was alone in the kitchen with a hot Delta Force soldier. What was she supposed to do?
Her first instinct was to throw her arms around the man’s neck and see if he kissed as well as he looked like he could.
He set the kit on the counter beside her, opened it and selected an alcohol pad, gauze and bandage.
“It’s just a little cut,” she protested.
“You don’t want it to get infected.” He took her hand in his and removed the paper towel. A drop of blood oozed out. He covered the spot with the towel and placed her hand over it. “Hold that.”
She grinned and did as told.
He tore open the alcohol pad and removed it from the foil wrapper. “This is going to sting.” Grimm touched the pad to the cut.
Dezi winced and bit down on her lip to keep from cursing.
Grimm wiped away the blood, folded the gauze, laid it over the cut and applied the bandage over it.
When he was done, he cleaned up the packaging and returned the first aid kit to the pantry. He returned with a broom and dustpan, making quick work of the broken plate and placing the pieces into the trash bin.
Dezi had moved back to the sink, unsure how to finish the dishes with a bandage on her finger.
“You’re banned from sink and suds duty.” Grimm gripped her shoulders and moved her to the side. “You can still dry as long as you don’t get the dressing all wet.”
“How am I supposed to prepare a meal with this?” she asked, holding up her injured finger.
“Hopefully, it will have scabbed over by tomorrow, and the bandage won’t be necessary. As soon as the bleeding stops, you should be able to remove the dressing and let it air out and dry.” He ran hot water into the cooling sink and finished washing the dishes, setting them into a draining rack.
When she tried to take one out and dry it, he shook his head. “They’ll dry just as well in the rack.” He went around the kitchen, wiping counters with a damp cloth until everything was neat and clean.
“If you keep this up, I won’t have a job for long,” Dezi gave him a crooked smile. “So much for my debut as a chef.”
“You were amazing,” he assured her. “The food was perfect. That’s what counts.”