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Grandma chuckled. “So, you’re talking? And he’s painting the store tomorrow?”
“He says it’s an apology. I call it a punishment.”
“Not everyone hates painting, sugar.”
I shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not having him do it by choice. If I show up and try to do it myself, there’s no doubt he’ll barge in, sit me down, and take over.”
Like he had earlier when I refused to sit down, and he’d thrown me over his shoulder like I weighed absolutely nothing.
I was mad about that, too.
And the piggyback.
Just about everything.
Even the way my skin tingled when he touched me. That was the thing I hated most.
Plus, my poor freaking toe.
“Did I hear him say he was going to pick you up tomorrow?”
“Stop it,” I told her. “Stop picking it apart. He’s making an apology by helping me out since I can’t do it because he scared me.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm at me. It’s true.”
“I never said it wasn’t. I was merely thinking about the implications of your decision to have him in the store.”
“Which are what?”
“He’s your ex. He’s the only boy you’ve ever loved, Raelynn.”
I ignored that last bit. Mostly. “He’s not a boy. He’s twenty-seven.”
“Exactly.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “He’s a boy to me.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away. “Whatever. He’s just helping out one time. It’s not going to result in anything other than that. Take your head out of the clouds.”
Grandma laughed and stood back up. “Here’s the remote control, hopalong. Shout for me if you need anything.”
I huffed and took the controller, but I shot her a smile as she left.
I didn’t know what to think about today, so I wasn’t going to think about it. I was going to sit here, find something to watch on TV, and pretend I wasn’t almost helpless in terms of even getting myself to the bathroom until these pills kicked in.
Yep.
That was what I was going to do.
***
I was waiting on the front step by the time Chase showed up. It was already in the eighties despite it being barely eight in the morning. I was this close to sweating when he finally pulled up in his car and got out.
“How’s your toe?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Judging by the way it looked this morning, not good.”
“How does it feel?”
“Not as bad as yesterday, but it hurts to walk.” I tried to get up using my heel, but I couldn’t quite do it.
Chase chuckled and held out his hands.
I had no choice. I wasn’t getting up by myself. I really hadn’t thought this through.
I put my hands in his, and he gently pulled me up. “Thank you,” I said, releasing his hands.
“You’re welcome. You didn’t think that through, did you?”
I dipped my head because that was exactly what I’d just thought. “Not really.”
He smirked. “Can you limp to the car?”
“I think so.” I took a couple steps. “Yep. I’m good. The drugs help.”
His laughter followed me to the car. He did, however, beat me to it. Which wasn’t entirely surprising given that I was about as fast as a turtle. Limping in flip-flops wasn’t easy, for the record.
Chase grabbed the handle and opened the door for me, ushering me in with an extravagant wave of his hand. Shaking my head, I got into the car and set my purse on the floor between my feet.
“What’s with the dungarees?” he asked when he joined me inside.
“This is my, ‘I look like I’m painting, but I’m supervising,’ outfit,” I replied. “What’s with the stool on the back seat?”
He glanced back, then peered over at me. “That’s my, ‘I know Rae won’t sit and let me do it all,’ stool. There’s another in the trunk for your other foot, as well as an extra-long roller for when you get antsy.”
“I don’t know whether or not I should say thank you for the stool or argue about me getting antsy.”
“Here’s an idea, just say thank you.” He pulled out of the drive. “If it’s not too much hassle for your inner asshole.”
“I was going to say it until you said that.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
He shrugged. “You’re right. I’m not. Not even a little bit.”
I rolled my eyes and looked out of the window. He was insufferably irritating. He knew where all my buttons were and how to push all of them.
Was that why I was afraid? Because if he could push my angry buttons, he could push the rest of them?
No. That wouldn’t happen. I had self-control. Sure, my eyes wandered every now and then, but I was human. I was a red-blooded woman whose hormones occasionally took control over my regular brain.
It happened to men all the time, and nobody judged them for poor choices. I was allowed a few every now and then.
“Wanna get some coffee first?” He looked over at me. “I didn’t have any yet.”
