When he looked up, amusement sparkled in the pale green-brown of his eyes as a smile curved his lips upward. “What? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Kiss it and make it better?”
“I—well—yes. I suppose.”
It was what parents did for their children. Or what a Daddy might do for his Little girl.
But that wasnotwhat was happening here. He was just teasing her, like always.
Wanting desperately to return to the relative safety of her kitchen, she tried to tug her hand from his grasp but Dylan held tight, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on her injury.
“Um.” She gave her hand another tug, but still he held fast. “We should go finish dinner.”
“We should.” With his eyes still locked on hers, he ran the pad of his thumb over the band-aid and she had to suppress a shiver at the intimate touch. “But not until you promise to be more careful with that peeler.”
“It was an accident, Dylan. You’re making it out to be a much bigger deal than it was.”
“You hurting yourselfisa big deal to me, Samantha. Promise me, or I’ll take the peeler from you and finish dinner all by myself.”
“Have you ever even made mashed potatoes?”
“Not from scratch. But I’m sure you could talk me through the process.”
It was tempting. Not just because it had been far too long since anyone had bothered to cook for her, but also because it would serve him right to make threats like that.
But in the end, her own conscience won out and she heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll be more careful.”
Releasing his hold on her hand, he held up his own, folded into a fist other than a single finger sticking out toward her. “Pinky-swear.”
Despite her embarrassment and utter confusion with the situation, she laughed and hooked her pinky with his. “I pinky-swear that I will be more careful while peeling potatoes.”
“I’ll be holding you to that.”
This time, she wasn’t quick enough to stop the shiver that raced up her spine at the low rumble of his words. Nervous laughter bubbled up inside of her, escaping in a high-pitched giggle as she shook her head. “That almost sounds like a threat.”
“Not a threat. A promise.”
Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!
Unfortunately, her mouth wasn’t inclined to listen to her brain for some reason. “A promise for what?”
With their fingers still linked, he tugged her forward, until she was almost pressed against his chest. The angle forced her head back, and she swallowed hard at the intense expression on his face. “For now, let’s just say I am very invested in making sure you’re taking care of yourself, and I will do whatever I need to in order to keep you safe.”
“Did Ethan put you up to this? Because I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myse?—”
“Sam, trust me when I say that Ethan doesn’t have the first fucking clue about my interest in you.”
What the hell didthatmean? Too cowardly to ask him outright, she jerked her chin up even further, determined to remind him and herself that she was the adultier adult in this situation. “Well, whatever the reason, I don’t need a keeper. I’ve done just fine keeping myself and another human alive and thriving for the past twenty-some years.”
“Disagree.”
Confusion gave way to outright fury. “Fuck you,” she spat before turning to stomp off to the kitchen. But she didn’t even make it a single step before she found herself spun back into his embrace. Only this time, there wasn’t even that little bit of space between them, and she learned first-hand exactly how solid the muscles beneath his too-tight shirt were.
“Why are you pissed at me?”
“Seriously?” For someone so damn smart, he was proving to be completely fucking clueless. “Because I said I’ve been doing a perfectly fine job of taking care of my son and myself for the last two decades and you said ‘Disagree’. So, I repeat: Fuck. You.”
“Ah.” His expression softened, and she nearly lost herself in his self-deprecating smile. “That’s my bad. I didn’t mean ‘Disagree’ as in you didn’t do a fantastic fucking job raising a kidall on your own. I was only disagreeing with your assertion that you don’t need a keeper.”
“Oh.” Just as quickly as it had come, the anger fled, leaving her feeling somewhat deflated. And a whole lot embarrassed. “Well, I don’t.”
