“Are you okay?” I ask, peering into his eyes.
My first aid flips through my head. Maybe he’s having a blood sugar thing? His eyes are locked on mine. His breathing is erratic. I move one hand to press over his heart.
“Are you hurt?” I ask him.
His eyes slide down to my hand on his chest. His body shutters, then he takes a giant step back, away from me. “Fine.” He turns away and runs his hands through his hair. He locks his arms behind his head and stalks back and forth in front of the garage.
I close my fingers over my hot, tingling palms, then slide them into my pocket. What the fuck was that?
4
KADE
What the hell was that? My chest is burning where she touched me. It felt like fucking flames racing through me. I can feel her eyes still on me. The biggest bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
I can’t look at her.
Instead, I pace in front of the garage, trying to convince my cock to settle down. Fucker must be deprived. It’s been a fucking year. That must be why he’s trying to tear through my jeans.
Jesus, she smells so good. Hints of vanilla and mint. She’s exactly my type.
Lush.
I want to taste her. And that pisses me off. This—SHE—is the last thing I need right now. I don’t have time for any of this shit. Not the car clearly filled with everything she owns, not the big blue eyes, not the curves for days.
None of it.
Between my work here and the mounds of paperwork waiting for me at head office, I’m already at the edge of the fucking cliff, and the whole damsel in distress thing she has going on is pushing all my buttons. I feel all my old programming rising. Telling me to take care of her, to keep her safe. To do anything for her.
I have to fight it back. I’m not that guy anymore, thinking that if I just do a little more, serve a little more, be a little more, she’ll be okay. This woman is not my responsibility.
I grip the back of my neck tighter, using the pain to focus my thoughts. I don’t know what the right thing to do is here, but there’s no way she can sleep in her car. I can feel my need to understand why she’s in this position rising, but I push it back down.
Don’t get involved.
Don’t get involved.
I suck in a breath and hold it, pretending I’m sitting at the bottom of the pool at my condo watching air bubbles floating to the surface, then slowly release it. I turn to her and meet her eyes. “You can’t sleep out here. It’s not safe. I’ll drive you over to a motel a few blocks away.”
She tilts her chin up and crosses her arms over her breasts. I feel my mouth watering like a dog staring at a juicy steak. It’s fucking annoying. Why now and why this woman?
“That’s unnecessary. I’ll stay here. It’s almost morning, anyway. What time does the garage open?”
“It’s very necessary,” I snap. “You’re not staying here.”
Why isn’t she listening? Her reactions don’t make any sense. She’s clearly in a shitty situation. Why does she look so fucking calm?
As I glance at the inside of her car again, I realize what the problem is.
Ah shit, I’m getting involved.
But just a little.
“I’ll cover the motel for the night. And we can move your car around back in the locked yard. Your stuff will be safe there.”
She’s tapping her chin again, and I feel myself leaning forward, wondering what she’ll say next. So far, she’s been sassy as hell, and I hate to admit it, but she’d be pretty funny too if it weren’t the middle of the night. Her head nods like she’s decided.
Finally.
