“I get to keep a housekeeper who doesn’t irritate me.”
A small smile threatened the corner of her mouth before she pushed it away.
“You don’t even like me.”
“That is inaccurate.”
She blinked. “What? But you’re?—”
“Also, that isn't the point,” I continued. “You’re injured. You lack insurance. You reside in a vehicle.”
The moment the word landed.Vehicle. She flinched.
“How did you know that?” she asked
“I saw your van, and I had questions. When I looked in your file?—.”
“My file?! You went through my file,” she said as her eyes tightened.
“I requested it.”
“Why?” Her eyebrows knit close together as she crossed her arms over her chest. I would not look down at what that action did to her breasts. This was not about that. This was not about how enticing I found this woman.
“Due diligence.”
“That’s not due diligence. That’s overstepping.”
She was right. I knew she was right, but that was neither here nor there. She was injured and living in her van. There wasn’t a cell in my body that could tolerate that.
“You have no listed residence,” was all I said.
Her chin lifted. “I have an address.”
“A P.O. Box.”
Silence. The truth hung between us.
“You cannot continue living in that van while injured,” I said.
The fire in her eyes flickered. Not extinguished, but shaken nonetheless. I wanted that fire back almost as much as I wanted her healed.
“I have been managing,” she said.
“Have you?” I replied. “Or have you been surviving?”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”
“Belle, this is not pity,” I said immediately. It wasn’t about pity at all. How could I explain that the thought of her struggle made me want to claw my own eyes out?
“Then what is it?”
I searched for a word that would not sound pathetic. I couldn’t give voice to the feelings I didn’t even know how to handle.
“Business,” I said finally.
She almost laughed at that. “Marriage is your efficient solution.”
“Yes.”
