Immediately, his eyes drop to my ankle. “You shouldn’t be walking on that.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
Something feels... off. Different from last night. More guarded.
“Your medical boot should be delivered later today,” he says instead. “How about we go get breakfast and coffee?” The shift in subject is abrupt enough to throw me.
Still, I nod slowly. “That sounds good.”
“Okay.”
That’s it. No teasing. No smirking. No playful arguments about not wearing death traps.
Just clipped answers and distance.
My chest tightens unexpectedly.
Daltyn turns toward the staircase. “I’m going to get dressed.”
“Are you okay?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He pauses for a second without looking back. “Fine.”
Then he disappears upstairs.
I stare after him in confusion.
Last night, he carried me everywhere, flirted with me, held my panties hostage, and looked at me like he wanted to devour me.
Now he can barely look me in the eye.
What the hell happened overnight?
With a sigh, I limp back to my room and start getting dressed. The only shoes I have are flip-flops. I’m sure they aren’t great for an injured ankle, but the only other shoes I have are the high-heeled sandals I wore at the airport.
My ankle throbs like it’s saying,“Not happening.”
I return wearing a pair of skinny jeans, at-shirt, and flip-flops. I’m not wearing his hoodie. After the weird distance between us this morning, it just doesn’t feel right.
He’s already by the door. He gives me a cursory glance, frowning at my feet.
“It’s all I have.” I hate the desperation in my voice.
Pathetic, Peyton.
“We’ll get you some shoes after breakfast. One you can wear with your boot when it arrives.”
He holds the door open, and I limp out. And damn, my ankle really hurts.
He helps me into his SUV carefully and efficiently, like taking care of me is second nature to him. I take longer than usual to fasten my seat belt, trying to fight back the pain I’m feeling. Between my ankle and the cold shoulder I’m getting from him, it feels like pain is coming at me from every direction.
He starts the SUV and drives away, not saying anything.
I grab my phone and pretend to browse social media.
He reaches over and turns on a sports channel discussing the upcoming hockey season. Clearly, it’s a sign he doesn’t want to be bothered by me until we get wherever we’re going.
