She made a cut on herself just between her thumb and index finger. The cut bled out, and she cursed at the umbrella even though it was her fault. A while ago, she was focusing on how to open the umbrella. Now, she wants to tend her wound.
“What happened?”
Because of that familiar timbered voice, she managed to stop biting her lower lip due to the stabbing pain in her hand and raised her forehead to face Cross, who approached her. He was in his white t-shirt and slacks. He might have taken his coat off due to the hot weather and went to her when he saw her from the tent.
“Nothing, sir,” she said coldly and hid both her hands together with the umbrella and notepad.
His eyes drifted into her face, very discerning in her actions and words. And of course, Elizabeth knows him already, so she
