I tilt my head as I take him in. He really doesn’t have anyone, does he?
Releasing his shirt, I curl my hand gently around his bicep, not quite able to get my fingers halfway around, and I tug. “Let’s go.”
When he doesn’t budge, I can’t hold back my smile. He’s so predictable.
He glares. “Go where?”
“To clean you up.”
“Not happening.”
“Look, I have a salve that’ll help. Promise. I made it myself.”
His glare slides down to my hand still wrapped around his arm, and I swear he’s trying to burn it off with his laser eyes.
My heart thumps loudly in my ears. The adrenaline is like a buzz to me, vibrating deep in my chest. “Do you want your notes?”
Staring me down, he works his jaw back and forth until I’m sure his teeth are ground to the bone. He’s a big guy, kinda huge actually. My lungs constrict as I take him in. Paired with his tough exterior, he knows how to intimidate. But, for whatever reason, my soul is drawn to his, and my body knows it.
After a second passes and I still don’t back down, he shakes his head and takes a long stride toward Tim’s house, lurching me forward with him.
I barely catch it when he mutters under his breath, “Those notes had better be good.”
Hunt
I’m sitting at the dining table, my chair pulled out, but my gaze keeps flicking toward the living room over my shoulder. It’s risky, letting her bring me in here when Mr. Everest or the others could come home any minute and see my injuries. Tim’s been like a dad to me, but the second he finds out what I’m up to, I’ll be out on the streets and unable to graduate.
A pang strikes my chest. I’m not the only person depending on me.
But it was either here or my place, and I haven’t been alone with a girl in almost two years, never mind allowed one inside the guesthouse.
My shoulders are stiff, and my spine is pin-straight as Blue returns from upstairs with a small jar, a first aid kit, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She washes her hands at the sink, then dries them, grabs the supplies, and makes her way to me. I place my palms on my thighs, squeezing slightly when she steps between my legs and faces me.
Leaning down, she reaches for the bottom of my shirt, then pauses. “Is this okay?”
I narrow my eyes, trying to ignore the feel of her fingers right by the zipper of my jeans. “Do I have a choice?”
She gives a small smile. “I’d give you my notes anyway, you know.” When I open my mouth to respond, she continues, “But I hope you won’t change your mind. I’d feel better if you let me help. And who knows? I might even leave you alone for the rest of the day.” Humor dances in her green eyes.
I shut my mouth. I want to sayfuck thisand scoot my chair back, but the words are stuck in my throat, and my body won’t move. So I sit there like an idiot and look at the wall instead. “Just make it quick,” I mutter. Then I feel like a jerk, so I add a quiet, “Please.”
“I can do that,” she says before lifting my shirt. “You know, my mom travels a lot for work too, like your dad. That’s why I’m here. Usually, she lets me stay home alone, back in California. I’m close with my neighbor, and his parents are like a second family to me. But this one’s a longer trip, so ...”
Gritting my teeth, I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t lying when I told her my dad travels for work—but it definitely wasn’t the full truth either.
She fumbles with the material, first trying to get it to stay up, then struggling to hold it in place with one hand. I push out a frustrated breath. The more she touches me, the faster my blood rushes through my veins.
This isn’t good.
“Here.” I grab the shirt from the bottom and pull it over my head. After dropping it on the floor, I lean back against the seat, still avoiding her gaze. “Better?” I almost grimace when I hear my biting tone. My social skills are rusty at best. I sound like a dick even when I don’t mean to.
When she doesn’t answer, I finally look right at her. Her eyes are glued to my chest, my stomach, slowly moving up and down. I barely manage to stop myself from shifting in my seat, thinking maybe all the gruesome marks are grossing her out, but only concern flits through her eyes. Until a second passes, then another, and she snaps her focus away like she just realized she was staring.
A pink blush creeps up her neck and settles in her cheeks. “Yeah,” she says faintly. “Better.”
I clench my jaw, swallowing.
I’m used to stares and other, way more obvious advances from Kimmie and her friends. When I first moved into the guesthouse last year, they were relentless. They’d flock to my place or the pool, knocking on my door when I was knee-deep in homework or other personal shit, and when that didn’t work, they’d hang around by my truck after school. It didn’t matter how many times I made it clear I wasn’t interested. They kept coming back, trying new tricks to tempt me, and, shit, Lord knows it wasn’t easy to ignore them.
