Love's Tender Bond [Bonding Camp 6] (Siren Publishing Menage and More) by Christelle Mirin Page A

lines.
    Missy couldn’t help but smile back. He’s so easy on the eyes. When he smiles, it warms my heart.
    “Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s take care of your injury. Come and sit.” He led her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her.
    She sat, the vinyl of the seat chilly on the backs of her legs. Missy wore her usual workout garb of short, loose shorts and a sports bra. She had been jogging earlier and was walking the paths that crisscrossed the estate to cool down when she had spotted Sam. Glancing at him while he dug through one of the cabinets searching for the first-aid kit, she secretly sniffed herself, hoping she didn’t smell too bad after her run.
    “Here we go.” Sam straightened and turned toward her, a small white box in his hand. “Found it.” He moved to the table and set the kit down. Then he grabbed another chair and drew it closer to Missy. “You’re not going to go all girly on me and cry, are you?” he teased, sitting down in front of her, their knees touching.
    They both had their chairs turned so that their sides were to the table, Missy parking her right arm on the tabletop. “I won’t go all girly on you,” she replied, tilting her head. “But if you stab me, I might end up kicking you.”
    His eyes went round in exaggerated surprise and he stopped rummaging through the kit. “You be careful where you plant those feet.”
    Missy forced down a giggle. “It would be a reflex. Just sayin’.” She shrugged and looked away before she smiled. She was teasing and he knew it.
    Sam chuckled, the sound like a low rumbling. He took her hand in his.
    Missy turned her gaze back to him. He held the tweezers just above her finger.
    “Are you ready?” he asked, eyebrow raised.
    She nodded, curling her left hand into a fist in her lap. “Go ahead.”
    He nodded, then squeezed her finger tightly. “Here goes.” He focused on what he was doing, gingerly probing the tip of her finger.
    Missy jerked, sucking in a sharp breath when he bumped the sliver with the tweezers.
    “Sorry.” Sam winced but didn’t pull back. “Almost got it.”
    One hot poker of pain and then he held the sliver up for her to see. “There!” He grinned.
    Missy thought he looked like a young boy who had managed to fish a prize out of a claw game vending machine. Sam Rodgers may be over forty but there was still the spark of a child hiding inside him.
    “Thank you, Sam.” Missy smiled at him.
    His gaze flicked from the splinter to her eyes. “You’re welcome.” He looked at her for a moment, seeming to search her face, then rose from his chair and deposited the splinter in the trash. “Now we have to disinfect it,” he said, returning to his seat.
    Missy watched him dig through the kit for cotton balls, peroxide, and some bandages. When he had them all lined up on the table, he held out his hand. “Finger please?”
    She presented her still-throbbing finger to him, and he began to tenderly dab it with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball. Thankfully, it didn’t sting.
    “You know, you’re the only person around her that calls me Sam.” He gave her finger a final wipe then prepared a bandage.
    There was something about the way his voice sounded just then, all soft and wistful, that made Missy yearn to give him a hug. “Calling you Rodgers, like everyone else, has never felt right to me.”
    She watched a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He wrapped the bandages around and over her finger, fitting one over the top and the other around it to secure the ends.
    “There you go,” he said, finally looking up to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked and held for the span of three heartbeats. Sam was the first to look away. “Guess I’d better put this where I got it and get back to work.” He rose from his chair and started gathering up all the things from the first-aid kit and put them back in the box.
    Missy wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. “Why does everyone call you Rodgers?” She