If she fell?
What if Todd came back and was drunk—No.Todd might be a spoiled, thoughtless sap, but he wasn’t violent. He wouldn’t hurt her. But what if someone else…
My mind raced through scenario after scenario, chewing up the miles to the apartment and not even bothering to check my rear view for flashing lights. Thankfully, Aria’s brother was on the Stonebar police force, so if one of them did pull me over, he’d be able to get me out of the ticket. Not that it mattered. I’d happily take a suspended license if it meant making sure Daisy was safe.
My truck tires screeched to a stop outside the shop. It looked just as locked up as I’d left it a few hours earlier, and I wished that did something to ease my chest that felt ready to split open.
“Daisy?” I called even before I’d reached the Murphy door to the apartment. I took the stairs two at a time and then pounded on the door. “Daisy?”
Later, I’d realized it was the blood thundering in my ears that prevented me from hearing her.
I punched in the code for the lock and shoved through the door. “Daisy? Are you?—”
“Max?”
I stopped at the sight of her standing at the bottom of the spiral steps, whole and healthy.And her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Max, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” She sniffled and pretended to look out the window with the hope I wouldn’t see her lift the back of her hand to her cheek to wipe her tears.
My jaw clamped tight, and my eyes did a pass over the whole of her, needing to double—triple—confirm she was okay.
One swipe of my stare down her body, and I knew she was fine. I, on the other hand, was not.
She had on another one of my tees from one of the open boxes. It was big enough to be a dress and would’ve fallen to the tops of her knees if not for her belly. It didn’t lift the hem much, but it was enough. Enough to make my lungs seize and my dick harden. Enough to swallow up the guilt I should feel for beingglad she was here. For being glad Todd left her.For wanting her like she and her baby were mine.
I made the mistake of telling her they were just some extra shirts that had ended up here by accident. I didn’t want her to feel bad for wearing them, and the fib worked too well. She didn’t feel guilty for wearing them, but I did. I felt guilty for lying to her.And for thinking that nothing had ever looked more right than Daisy wearing one of my shirts.
“Max?” Her tremulous voice snapped me from my trance as she came to stand right in front of me. Right where I could see the fabric rise and dip over her breasts. Her nipples. Where it bowed out over her stomach and fluttered in front of her thighs.
I balled my fist to hide how my fingers itched to reach for the hem and explained, “Your phone went straight to voicemail, and my message wouldn’t go through…I was worried.”
Her lips rounded, and my cock twitched. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and nodded, reaching for the bowl of rice I just noticed on the counter.
She took two steps closer and extended her arm. Inside the bowl of rice was her cell phone.
“I dropped it in the bathtub,” she murmured, a strained laugh pushing from her chest. She set it back on the counter and added, “Part of me hopes it doesn’t make it.”
“Daze—”
“What were you calling about?” She bundled her arms over her chest, the stance highlighting the growing swell of her stomach…and lifting the shirt higher on her thighs.
Lust bolted into my veins…from a bared inch of her leg. God, I should’ve spent the last six months dating instead of wallowing.
“Dessert,” I choked out. “I’ll be right back.” In the span of minutes, I went back to my truck, grabbed the takeout containerfrom the front seat, and returned to the apartment. “Figured you might like some blueberry cobbler,” I offered her the treat.
To my surprise, she just stared at the container but made no move to take it.
“Daze?” I rasped.
She spun and walked to the window, her head swaying slowly in the low light.
“Daisy.” I slid the container onto the kitchen counter and went to her. I wanted to pull her into my arms again like the other night, but I stopped myself, instead placing my hand gently on her arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders shook with a restrained sob, but she didn’t pull away from my touch.
“I’m fine,” came her hollow defense.
“Tell me you’re fine one more time, and your nose will be long enough to poke me in the chest, Pinocchio.”
