RAIF WALKED IN ONLY a moment behind Sarah and caught a glimpse of the pained look on her face as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink.
He was at her side. "Something wrong?"
"Blisters." She squinted her eyes shut and showed him both palms.
"Oh," he groaned. "I'm so sorry." Taking a clean dish towel from the drawer next to his hip, he gently dried Sarah's hands, his gaze following the movements of his work. "There was no need to cut those weeds. I was just trying—"
"Trying to get even?" The accusation was soft but damning nonetheless.
Raif swallowed the stale taste of revenge in his throat. "Yeah." He still held her hands in his own.
Sarah pulled them away and studied the sores there. "I deserved it." When Raif didn't protest she continued. "I can't bully you around. I'm just not
