Page 41 of Lonely Heart

I continued to cut into the wood. “It is. I just don’t know if I’d ever be able to make some of those crazy intricate designs the instructor showed us at the start. I feel like it’d be very labor intensive.”

Though I didn’t stop what I was doing or look away from my work, I was aware of Marco’s body beside mine and the way it moved with his laughter. “Just imagine how accomplished you’ll feel if you can get to a point where you make something unique, something you can display in your home, or a gift you can give to someone.”

I brushed away a few more shavings. “I think it’s great for my ego that you have enough faith in me to believe it’s possible I could ever make something that would be a cherished gift for someone.”

Marco’s movements stopped beside me, and without even looking at him, I knew he’d turned his attention to me. “If you made me something, I would treasure it.”

My hands stopped, loosened their hold on the tool, and I glanced up at him with a stuttering heart. “Really?”

“Of course. I understand just how much time and effort you would have put into it, so it would mean a lot to me that you gifted me something like that.”

It might have been the words he said combined with the way he was looking at me, but I grew flustered and needed to do something. So, while keeping my focus on him, I brushed my fingers against the piece of wood I was working with, and that’s when it happened.

“Ouch!” I pulled my hands back, held my right one up in front of my face, and squeezed the tip of my ring finger with my left hand. “I got a splinter.”

“Where? Let me see.” Before I had the chance to respond, Marco took my hand in his and inspected my finger. “Oh, yep. I see it.”

He released my hand and reached into his pocket. I didn’t know what he was doing, so I tried looking at my hand again, doing what I could to squeeze the flesh and force the piece of wood out.

I was so focused—and frustrated—that I didn’t take notice of what Marco had done. But the next thing I knew, he was taking my hand in his again. “Let me get that for you.”

Marco had a pair of mini tweezers in his hand, which left me feeling utterly baffled. “Where did you get those?”

He jerked his head to the table we’d been working at. “I have a Swiss Army knife that has all kinds of useful tools in it.”

My eyes drifted to the table and noted the pocketknife there before they returned to his face. He wasn’t looking at my face, though. His attention stayed focused solely on my finger and the work he was doing. A moment later, he held the tweezers up between us, the tiny piece of wood clamped in its grasp.

“You got it.”

He dipped his chin and smiled. “How does it feel?”

“Instant relief,” I answered. “That tiny piece of wood felt awful, though. I think I’ll feel that for a day or so.”

Without hesitation, Marco lifted my hand slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of my finger. I hadn’t wanted my mouth to fall open the way it had, but I hadn’t expected Marco to do that.

There was a gleam in his eyes when he lifted his gaze from my fingertip to my face, and the only thing I could think of was that Iwas glad he was holding my hand. If not, I might have collapsed from the sudden dizziness I felt at the sight of that look.

Marco Kingston had just kissed my finger, and it felt like he’d turned my world upside down.

“Is it better now?”

I swallowed hard. When did his voice change? Why was it so deep and seductive? I was still in such a state of shock that my response came out barely a touch over a whisper. “Much better.”

He grinned at me. “You have to be careful.”

I licked my lips, belatedly noticing the way his eyes dropped to them and flared. “I’ll try.”

After he gave me a nod of approval, Marco and I turned back to our table and got back to practicing the techniques our instructor had demonstrated. And for the remainder of the class, no matter how much new information I learned or things I succeeded in doing, nothing compared to the memory of Marco kissing my finger.

And I hated to admit that there was a small part of me that wished, when he took me home after class, that he’d have kissed me again, this time on my lips.

Sadly, Marco was a perfect gentleman.

12

MARCO

“Hey, man. Are you okay?”