In her father’s kitchen, Bella was cutting up vegetables for the veggie tray. She needed to keep her mind occupied and off Edward Masen, his jade eyes, and soft lips.
Lips she dreamt about for the two weeks following the day she’d spent with him. In her dreams, they didn’t stop when the thunder boomed. Instead, they went into his backseat and fucked each other until the storm ended.
“Damn it!” Bella barked, dropping the knife and carrot she was cutting. “Fuck!” She ran to the sink and stuck her bleeding fingers underneath the water.
“Little Bell, are you okay?” Charlie asked, strolling down from his bedroom, wearing a pair of shorts and an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt.
“What are you wearing, Dad?” Bella asked, looking at him. “You look like Tommy Bahama’s trippy younger brother.”
“I wanted to relish the last vestiges of summer,” Charlie answered, walking over to the sink. “Yikes. You damn near took off the tip. You’re supposed to curl your fingers, Little Bell.”
“I was distracted,” she whispered.
Charlie looked at Bella’s finger. “Carlisle might have to stitch this, baby girl,” he chided. “Let me call him.” He gently wrapped her finger with a makeshift bandage. “Hold it above your heart and let me handle the rest of the veggies. Not everyone will want a side of O-negative with their cucumbers.”
“You’re funny, Dad. Hysterical,” Bella deadpanned, sitting down at the kitchen table, and trying not to pass out. Blood made her queasy. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the room was spinning. “Can I get some water?”
“Don’t pass out, Bella,” Charlie chided, putting a glass in front of her. “Carlisle is on his way.”
“What about Esme?” Bella asked, trying not to focus on the throbbing in her finger and the blood soaking the clean dishtowel.
“She’s picking up her niece who just moved out here from Alaska to start working as one of the physical therapists for the gym,” Charlie explained. The front door opened. “Carlisle?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Carlisle responded.
“Kitchen,” Charlie barked, standing up to greet his best friend and personal physician. “My daughter decided to add her fingertip to the veggies.”
Carlisle walked in, giving a Bella a look of concern. “What are we going to do with you, Bella?”
“Stitch me up?” Bella quipped with a pained expression.
“Let me see,” Carlisle chuckled, sitting down, and opening up his bag of tricks. Slapping on a set of gloves, he inspected Bella’s finger. The cut was bordering on needing stitches, but using some skin glue and gauze, he wrapped it up. “Don’t get it wet. If it hurts, take some ibuprofen or another over the counter pain reliever. I’ll check it later this week when I’m at the gym.”
“Thanks, Carlisle,” Bella smiled. “I’m going to splash my face since I … I hate blood.” She kissed his cheek, darting out of the room.
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