Free After All by Jolene Betty Perry

the record player.”
    I snorted, and then tried to ignore the heat that ran through my cheeks. “I went through a Britney Spears phase, but…” I spun to face him again. “That won’t leave this room.”
    He shook his head. “Promise.”
    My eyes floated over his face. Two, maybe three days of stubble, a Rolling Stones T-shirt, and a dimple I wanted to touch…maybe with my lips.
    “Wanna help with dinner?” He backed toward the kitchen, still smiling.
    I raised my brows in disbelief that he’d want me anywhere any kind of cooking after Amy’s admission of our fast food habits, but followed anyway. With the kids downstairs doing homework, his house still felt easy. Comfortable. Or maybe that was him. When I was around just Brandt, it was so easy, that the practical side of me sort of turned off. And that felt like a good thing.
    In about five minutes he had chicken cooking and water boiling, and I wasn’t as much in the way as I’d expected. Mostly because I sat on the counter and watched.
    “So, I can put the noodles in now?” I asked Brandt, holding the open box just above the boiling pot in my lame attempt to help.
    “Yep.” He started putting unused vegetables back in the fridge.
    I slid off the counter, opened the package of noodles, and began pouring. The steam rose, and a sharp pain slid up my wrist, stunning me for a moment before I reacted.
    I jerked my hand back, scattering the remaining noodles on the floor, as the burn spread up my arm. “Ow.”
    Brandt stepped next to me in a second and the warmth of him hit so hard my knees almost buckled. “Are you okay?”
    “Something burned my hand.” I tried to figure out where I was hurt. My whole palm was on fire, and Brandt was too close for me to think straight.
    He reached and turned the kitchen faucet on cold. “The pot or the water?” His voice filled with concern as he studied the redness on my hand.
    “I don’t know.” I held my wrist, near where a large welt had started to form.
    He carefully took my arm and kept it under the water, watching the red mark grow.
    “I’m sorry, Ash.” He leaned over the sink, watching my hand. I watched him—very aware of his fingers on my wrist. My heart beat hard, burn forgotten. “If I’d known you were so accident prone, I would have stayed closer.” He looked back at me with a teasing smile and our eyes met.
    My breath caught. He stopped. His smile was slowly replaced by something much softer. All I could see was his brown eyes, and a gold tint that reflected in the light—something I hadn’t noticed before. I wondered how much more I could learn about him. How many more things hadn’t I noticed yet? We silently stared, me barely unable to breathe, something like nervous anticipation swallowing me, until Brandt cleared his throat and backed up a step. I still hadn’t found my voice.
    “I’ll get you some aloe vera for that.” He slowly let go of my wrist and walked into his dining room full of plants.
    I stood at the sink, unable to take a deep breath. What was that ? And had he felt it, too?
    “Keep your palm under the water,” he said over his shoulder as he broke apart a plant.
    Our eyes never caught, and it felt like he was keeping his from me on purpose.
    “Okay, let me see your hand.”
    I let him take my arm again as he turned off the water. He held my wrist with one hand and pressed the broken end of the plant on my burn with the other.
    “What is that?” I asked.
    “Aloe vera.” His eyes finally connected with mine again.
    Small tingles of nerves spread from my chest and settled in my stomach.
    “I thought that came in plastic bottles at the store,” I teased. A joke should surely lighten the atmosphere.
    He smiled back. “It does. But this is a lot more convenient.”
    I looked down at his hands rubbing the aloe into mine. “I guess so.”
    It felt like a decision point—standing in the kitchen with Brandt, him holding a broken end of a plant on my arm. I couldn’t