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Just as I finished washing my hair with products that smelled like Lucas, I heard a rhythmic knocking. In a rush to keep the baby from waking up, I turned off the showerheads, wrung most of the water out of my hair, then wrapped myself in the softest towel to ever touch my skin.
The tapping continued. I was beyond annoyed. It was obvious this man had never been around a baby before. There were some rules he needed to follow. First and foremost, never wake a sleeping child. Second, the person who wakes the child puts them back to sleep.
After leaving the bathroom, I saw Lucas had done the unthinkable. He’d woken the baby. She wasn’t crying yet, but her arms and legs were in full motion. What the hell was wrong with him? Unless the place was on fire, he was going to hear a mouthful from me.
I made sure my towel covered me in all the important areas. My hair dripped on the carpet, but I didn’t give a crap at this point. I was pissed.
“Stop it, Lucas. I’m coming,” I called out and the knocking finally quit.
When I unlocked and opened the door, I didn’t have time to move backward as Lucas walked straight into me. I prepared to hit the ground—a seemingly common occurrence around him, but this time, it was his fault.
“Oh my God,” I screamed, closing my eyes.
Big arms wrapped around my body, pulling me against a hard wall of flesh. Lucas saved me once again from falling flat on my ass, but I didn’t smell smoke drifting through the apartment, so he had some explaining to do.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spat out, taking in his face.
His hot breath fanned against my cheeks. I could light a fire from the scotch I smelled too. His cloudy blue eyes were surrounded by bloodshot whites, and not just from the alcohol, but also from tears. The man was tormented.
“I needed to get my clothes.” His voice was slurred, making me wonder how he’d caught me in time.
“Couldn’t you get the door to open without waking Esmé?” He shrugged his shoulders, still holding me tight in his arms.
“You were in the shower. Didn’t want to barge in.”
That made more sense. “But how did you know?”
“I heard the water through the door. No one else uses my shower,” he whispered the last sentence, making the words take on a dark warning. His thumbs rubbed across the exposed, damp skin of my back, right above where the towel ended. I shivered at the delicious feel of his touch. “It’s my refuge.”
“Oh, Lucas. It’s just a shower.” Though I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful one, he needed some perspective. “You sound like a spoiled child and I took your favorite toy. As a matter of fact, you’ve acted like the biggest jerk to me tonight.”
“You’re right. I have.” He leaned his forehead against mine. The closeness was killing me, but I’d made some progress with him. He admitted he was being horrible. I gave myself an invisible high five.
“I know today’s been hell on you, but you’ve done everything in your power to get me to hate you. Why?”
He gazed down at me. I waited for his answer, hoping this might be the moment he let me see Herb once again.
“Oh, Peaches,” he said, tilting his head with a sad smile. Before he continued, he removed his arms from around me.
I instantly missed their protective feel, but he brought his hands up to my dripping wet hair, brushing it behind my ears. He kept his palms on both sides of my face, cupping it tenderly. My heart was racing. I’d never desired a man like this before, even though I knew he was trouble in with a capital T.
“I need you to hate me.” One of his hands trailed over my jawline, ending under my chin and lifting it upward. His gaze was focused on my lips. Kiss me, you fool, I wanted to scream, but I was the fool for wanting that. “Because I want you so bad, it hurts.”
“Then put yourself out of your misery.” I reached up on my tiptoes, trying to narrow the distance between our lips.
“That’s the problem. I have nothing but misery to give you. It’s why Barclay made me promise never to touch you.” His arms fell to his sides, but a battle warred in his eyes. “And I’ve already broken it, but no more.”
I had to think quickly. I didn’t want the angry grouch to return once the alcohol wore off.
“Let’s call a truce. No more fighting or making me walk around on eggshells. I’m here for as long as you and Esmé need me. Okay, Mr. Shaw?” I threw out his proper name like we were negotiating a contract.
