Unlikely. Being around him always caused the opposite reaction. “Sorry, I had to make sure.” I tugged my trapped hair out from under my shoulder. “You could have dropped me off at my apartment. It’s right next door.”
“Just… dump and run?” His gaze moved over me, his eyes more intense when the rest of his features were covered. “Someone needed to keep an eye on you, and my place made the most sense.”
Or he could have carried me up one less flight and left me with Tim and Varesh—one of whom had been exposed to the virus. “Thanks for watching over me,” I said. “Why was I unconscious in the first place?”
“Tim knows more than I do, but I’ll explain what I can.”
He recounted what went on after I left the building. Some parts I remembered, like the crash and Brynn. Other details I’d forgotten—the cyclist bowling me over and my head hitting the ground.
Dustin’s use of the master keys was new and unsettling information, too.
“This is too much,” I said. “I can’t focus right now.”
I draped my forearm over my eyes and swallowed, noting the rawness in my throat. Rain hit the windows, and the refrigerator hummed, but the mundane sounds did nothing to calm my mind.
“Do you need something for your headache?” he asked.
I lowered my arm and found him watching me—studying me, really. The weight of his gaze sent a rush of awareness through me. “I could use some aspirin.”
Seemingly happy to have something to do, Theo pushed off the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen, opening cupboards and rustling through the contents.
“Oh, I found out who my sugar mama is today,” he called out. “Know anything about that?”
My eyes widened, and I swore under my breath. I couldn’t see him from my position, but he sounded more confident than curious.
“No, but that’s such a kind gesture,” I said. “Someone must think highly of you.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why else would they do something like that?”
The clink of a glass came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of running water. In no time at all, Theo returned and dropped a couple of tablets into my palm.
He lowered himself onto the coffee table and pinned me with his gaze. “Sadie.”
“Hmm?”
“I never picked you for the type to throw money at problems instead of working through them,” he said, dangling the half-full glass between his knees.
His tone came off lighthearted—teasing even—but there was a glimmer of something deeper. I wished I had a full view of his face so I could read his mood better.
“Money solved the problem,” I said, tempted to tug his mask down. “There was nothing to work through.”
His eyes never left mine. “If you say so.”
His disappointment made my stomach drop. “Wait, what does that mean?”
“You took the easy way out instead of talking to me about it first.”
I sat up and cried out involuntarily at the construction site in my head. “Are you angry with me for clearing your debt?” I asked, pressing my palm to my temple. “It got Dustin off your back and gave you some breathing space. I was trying to help.”
He raised his brows in a way I found stupidly attractive. “You cleared my debt for you, not me.”
The husky edge to his voice caused a sweet pull inside me. I ignored it and threw back the aspirin, taking the glass from his outstretched hand. With a long drink and a swallow, I handed it back to him again.
“I was mean to you,” I said. “I had to make up for it somehow.”
I’d been lying on a brown leather couch with a matching recliner beside it, both well-worn and full of character—just likethe jeans and t-shirts he threw on every day. The Persian-style rug beneath the coffee table appeared to be vintage, too.
