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Her eyes lit up. “The flip-flops! I can walk in those!”
I sighed and reached back. Sure enough, my fingers closed around something that felt like foam, and I pulled out a pair of barely-worn flip-flops.
“Yesssss.” She threw them on the floor and gingerly put her bad foot into one of them. “Freedom.”
“Freedom from what? Being carried around?”
“Yes. I’m not a Disney princess. I don’t need to be hauled about because of an injury you caused. Besides, you’re no Flynn Rider.” Her eyes sparkled and, holy shit, her lips curved into a tiny smile.
I raised my eyebrows, and she dropped it, then cleared her throat. I bit back my laughter at her slip—she was so fucking desperate to hate me it was funny.
I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, turning toward her grandmother’s house. It was an easy ten-minute drive, but I didn’t want it to be in silence.
“How’s your toe?” I asked.
“Feels like I want to punch you.” She shot me a look.
“Fair enough. What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Apparently, visiting a doctor, icing my toe, and binging a TV show on Netflix.”
“You won’t do that. I know you.”
“You knew me.”
All right. That stung. “You haven’t changed much.”
She turned and looked at me. I felt her gaze as it traced my profile. “How do you know that?”
“Papers in the glovebox, gum in the center, flip-flops under the seat.”
“People can change their personalities without changing their habits. That’s usually how serial killers get away with it for so long.”
“And you’re apparently still obsessed with serial killers.”
She shrugged. “I picked up a few tricks. Carry on annoying me, and I’ll demonstrate them.”
I rolled my eyes and took a right. “All right. Since you’re being awkward, what were your plans for tomorrow?”
“Painting the base coat. If I tape my toes and use a long roller, I can probably get most of it done. I can rest my foot on the steps.”
Fuck, she was ridiculous. “Why don’t you let me help you?”
“Why would you help me?”
“I’m the reason you broke your toe. Think of it as my apology. I can help you stay on track until you can walk again.”
“What about your store?”
“Marnie can do it. It’s not like she’s doing it for free. She’s already out for the summer before she goes to college. She can get some real-life experience in. It won’t kill her.” I shrugged a shoulder. “She knows what she’s doing. I can go in in the evenings and do whatever work I need to do. Toes heal pretty fast.”
She side-eyed me. “It’s a broken bone, Chase.”
“Potentially. You’ll be fine in a week. You’re stubborn.” I pulled into the drive behind her grandfather’s truck. “Let me help you inside.”
“I can walk. I’m fine.” She grabbed her purse and pushed open the door, getting out and putting her weight on her good foot. The second she put weight on her right foot, she hissed out a curse and gripped the top of the door, immediately hovering on one foot.
“How ya doin’ over there, Miss Independent?” I slammed my door shut and pushed the key back into the fob. “You’ve gone far.”
She took a deep breath and looked at me. “Can you please help me?”
“Did you just ask for my help and say please in the same sentence?”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”
I handed her the keys and wrapped my arm around her waist. “Yeah, but you are, too. Here.” I guided her back so I could close the door. “Put your arm around me, and I’ll help you up.” I switched to her right side so she could lean on me.
She hesitated, but she put her arm around my waist and used me to help her up the path to the door.
Which swung open before we had a chance to open it.
“What the hell did you do?” her grandma asked. “And since when did your ex-boyfriend bring you home? Since when did you talk to him?” Her eyes glittered with the questions as she focused on me.
“Good to see you, too, Nora.” I grinned.
“What’d she do?”
“Broke my toe,” Rae ground out. “Can someone please let me inside so I can sit down?”
Nora stepped to the side, eyes still sparkling as she moved deliberately out of Rae’s reach, so I had to bring her in.
I shook my head. She might have been old, but she didn’t miss a trick, that woman.
I guided Rae into the living room. The buzzing of a drill or a saw came from somewhere to the left, and I knew that was her grandfather in his workshop—AKA the garage.
Slowly, I steadied Rae as she sat down and lifted her leg onto the coffee table. Letting her go sent a chill across my skin, especially when her fingers drifted over my forearm, but I masked it.
