He shoots me a don’t-play-dumb smile. “Every rich guy knows a guy who knows a guy.”
He doesn’t realize—Iamthe guy. But revealing that wouldn’t do any good for my future with Bobbi, so I just give him more confusion and turn to talk to the ladies. A lie of omission is better than a lie of commission.
Isn’t it?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bobbi
“You. Out. Now.”
Noah gives me a sad puppy face, but I refuse to be swayed, no matter how progressively more forlorn his expression grows. It’s been a week since the injury, and he’s still hovering like I’m some brittle sugar candy about to break.
He’s reacting out of love, but it’s just too weird. I’m taller than many men, with a sturdy frame and strong muscles. I throw guys around in judo and am trained in three or four other martial arts on top of that. I’m just not used to having somebody follow me around and act like I’m about to collapse every time I move my arm.
Plus, I’m a fast healer—and the cut is now fine. The doc was actually a little shocked.
“Don’t you need some help with the housework?” Noah asks, looking around my living room.
“Are you calling my house dirty?”
“Just offering my assistance. I’m good at chores.”
“Which is why your mom’s been calling you. But my toilets are fine. You need to go visit your brothers.”
“Why?”
“Because you like them? For male bonding? Family time?”
“They don’t need help.” His eyes fall on my arm again.
I’m going to scream. Then murder Reggie with my “bad” arm. Griffin had qualms about kicking her, but not me. “Noah, sometimes you need to stay away to get closer.”
He considers for a moment. “But—”
“Just one day.”
He bites his lip, a sign that there are more arguments he wants to make, but knows better.
“Come on. You’re driving me nuts here.”
He sighs. “Fine. But don’t do anything taxing. Especially the floor. I’m going to help you with it.” He glares at the boxes of tiles that arrived last Wednesday.
“Go. The tiles aren’t your enemy.”
He looks at Señor Mittens for backup, but the cat merely gives him an aloof look and grooms himself.
“Traitor,” Noah mutters, then leaves.
When the door finally closes behind him, I half-sigh and half-laugh. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise when he ghosted me after the gunshot. If he’d been around, he would’ve driven me insane with overprotectiveness. And all this time I thoughtTJwas overzealous and overbearing.
I’m going to show Noah I’m perfectly fine,I think, looking at the ugly kitchen floor. Ripping up these disgusting tiles up should do the trick.
I rummage through the toolbox TJ brought a few weeks ago and find what I need. Señor Mittens gives me a reproachful look. “Keep your opinions to yourself,” I say.
I don’t want to work in silence and under my cat’s disapproval, so I put on a Korean spy drama Yuna recommended. It apparently involves a lot of backstabbing. It’s dubbed, so I can work and listen to the dialogue.
The trim work around the kitchen floor is solid oak and very nice, so I take care removing it and stack it to the side to be reused. Then I grab a chisel and hammer to pry away the first tile. After a couple moments of gradually increasing pressure, the grout cracks and the tile comes off.
