His eyes snap up from my toe to mine, eyebrow raised. “And what look is that?”
I raise my eyebrow in return. “Are you fishing for me to tell you I like you without your shirt on?”
“Are you flirting with me again? You agreed not to flirt if I gave you the library.”
“Or sext.”
His gaze drops back to my foot, and shit. Why did I have to bring that up? I mentally roll my eyes at myself.
“Consider it a distraction technique then,” I say, redirecting us. “But I notice you didn’t put one on.”
“You were in here bleeding. I can go and grab one if that would make you more comfortable.”
“I already told you I like it. Why would I want you to go and do that?”
He makes a low noise deep in his throat and gets back to work on my toe. I study his face, each one of his handsome features, and instead of flirting, I ask the questions I’ve wanted answered for a month.
“Do you still wish I wasn’t working here?”
His hand on my foot freezes for a moment before he continues cleaning it. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“Because you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Because you think I’m not doing a good job with your children?”
“As much as it pains me to admit this, I think you’re doing an excellent job with my children.”
A giddy flutter takes flight within me. Like drunk butterflies tickling me with their wings. It’s like we’re picking up where we left off earlier, only this is face-to-face. Far more intimate here in the small bathroom, just the two of us.
“You’ve just made me so happy by saying that.”
He frowns and I laugh.
“Don’t frown, Your Majesty. I’m serious. You have no idea what you telling me that means to me. But please, you don’t have to ignore me. It makes caring for the children difficult sometimes. Icanbehave myself.”
“Can you?” he challenges, and it’s yet another legit question.
“I have this past month, have I not?”
“Until tonight, you mean, yes.”
“I didn’t set out to text you that way.”
He sighs—a heavy, deep, resigned sigh. He knows I won’t drop it, and right now, he’s my captive audience as he unwraps the Band-Aid.
“You know why I have to ignore you,” he says plainly.
“Not fully.” I follow the veining of the stone counter with my finger. “If I’m behaving myself as I already mentioned, then I can only hypothesize why without knowing for sure.”
He wraps the brown bandage around my big toe and sets my foot down, pinning me with a stare meant to scare and intimidate while appearing bored, but his eyes aren’t selling it.
He feels this, too.
“And what is your hypothesis?”
“That you like the way I look just as much as I like the way you look, and you don’t like that you do.”
