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Placing her suitcase on the floor, I stride over to Toby and pick up the remote that’s resting on the coffee table in front of the sectional. It takes me a moment to find the right channel, but as soon as a cartoon appears, Toby squeals with delight, his attention utterly focussed on the screen.
“I may have trouble dragging him away,” Lia remarks, a soft smile on her lips that falters as I near.
“Come on, let me show you to your room,” I say, stooping down to grab her suitcase right at the same time she does. Our fingers brush against each other, and I swear I feel a bolt of electricity zing up my arm from that brief touch.
Fuck.
Her hand falls away, and she straightens up. “I can carry the suitcase,” she says softly.
“I know, but I want to,” I reply, picking it up and turning on my heel so she can’t see how affected I am by her brief touch.
Fuck knows how I kept my hands off her last night as she lay next to me in bed, metaphorically speaking of course. I would never have come on to her, or touched her without her express permission. I’m not like Dalton who just assumes everyone wants to fuck him. Granted, he has a one hundred percent success rate with women, but that doesn’t mean he’ll eventually find one who doesn’t want to sleep with him. I’d like to see that moment, that’s for sure. He could use a little humbling.
Besides, I respect the women I choose to sleep with, and consent is really fucking important to me. Not that’s what this is. I meant it when I said I wanted to help them both, no strings attached.
Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from watching her sleep for a little while last night. My gaze had traced the curve of her hip and the dip of her waist, appreciating the softness of a woman who’s carried and birthed a child. Even in sleep she had been tense, as though she had no respite from the monster she’s running from. Perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps that fucker who hurt her continued to do so in her nightmares.
“Will your sister be home soon?” Lia asks me, interrupting my thoughts as we hit the top of the wooden staircase and start down the hallway towards the guest suite. I can’t help but notice how she follows me quietly a few steps behind, as though she’s used to being unseen, small somehow.
“She usually pops in to see Daphne at the cafe for breakfast after her shift at the hotel. I imagine she’ll be home soon,” I explain, pushing open the door to the room she’ll be staying in with Toby.
“And she won’t mind us staying here?” Lia asks, following me into the room.
“Not at all. Daisy is cool like that.”
“She seemed friendly,” she recounts, nibbling on her lip as her eyes dart around the room. I don’t like the way she holds herself as though she’s about to bolt. Or worse, that now I’ve got her alone she expects me to switch on her, to do something she doesn’t want. Her body is stiff, a coil pulled tight with tension.
“Daisy is the sweetest, kindest person you’ll ever meet,” I say, hoping that gives her the kind of comfort that I clearly can’t. “My sister doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. As a kid she was always bringing back waifs and strays, both people and animals. Hubert always humoured her, encouraged it even. He was good like that,” I chuckle.
Lia stiffens, and I curse myself. “Is that what I am to you?” she asks, her expression growing serious. “A waif or stray?”
“No,” I immediately answer, because it’s true. She might be someone I want to help in the same way Daisy always helps people but, shockingly, she is fast becoming more than that.
Truth be known that thought kind of terrifies me. I meant what I said about her being a woman dangerous for a man like me. She arches a brow, unconvinced, and that fire in her eyes I’ve seen a couple of times since meeting her flickers to life. Looks like Lia Pearson is a proud woman too, and maybe, underneath all that distrust and fear, someone to be reckoned with.
Dropping the suitcase onto the leather ottoman at the end of the double bed, I say, “What you are is a woman who has done the one thing my mother couldn’t do for me. You put yourself and your kid first, and escaped a violent relationship. Can’t say I was as lucky.”
“Drix…” Her voice trails off as a look of sympathy passes across her face.
“I know what it feels like to live in fear, Lia,” I explain. “My biological father was a violent drunk, a misogynist. He was the worst kind of person. If it hadn’t been for Hubert giving me a home, a family, I may have lived my life believing the same thing that you do now.”
“And what’s that?” she cautions.
“That accepting kindness comes with a price. That everyone I meet has an ulterior motive. That I’m not worthy of acceptance, empathy, happiness, love.”
That statement hangs in the air between us. Maybe I’ve said too much, shown my hand too early. Maybe, like Lia, I should protect myself from disappointment. But if Hubert taught me one thing, it’s to be honest even when you’ve got everything to lose. Lia could walk away with Toby just as soon as the opportunity arises. I expect her to, and yet I’m willing to take that risk even if it means I’ll be the one left damaged at the end of it.
The sheer fact that I already know I will be hurt if she walks is one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to face. But I ain’t lived the life I have without learning a few things myself, and trusting my gut is one of them. Lia might not know that we could be good together, but I do.
Rubbing her forehead as though she has a headache, she blows out a breath. “Can we start over?”
“I’d happily do whatever you want,” I reply gruffly because, at this point, that too is true. I think I might just burn the world down for this woman and her son if she asked me to. Across her beautiful face a dim flush races like a fever, and I have the sudden urge to chase it with my fingers.
“You’ve done more than enough already,” she replies, stepping aside as I head towards the door.
“I’ll go check on Toby, grab him a drink whilst you settle in,” I say, casting one last brief gaze her way before stepping out of the room, hoping to fuck I find a way to earn her trust, and maybe later, something more.
EIGHT
