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I’m alive.
Please. I hope I didn’t scream this time.
I pushed the covers off of me, slipped on my slippers, and headed downstairs, needing a drink of water.
I hadn’t been in the Brisken household long, but I had already memorized my surroundings. That was how I’d trained myself—to know where I was at all times and to know where the exits were.
I lightly walked through the foyer, down the hall, and into the kitchen. The floors creaked with age, but I was light on my toes.
I flipped on the light to get a glass in the cupboard and opened the fridge to get some water. My eyes caught a shadow in my peripheral view. And then I screamed.
The glass dropped to the floor and shattered.
Charles was up from the chair at the kitchen table and next to me in a nanosecond, bending down to pick up the big pieces of glass.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Charles said.
After catching my breath, I met his eyes. “I didn’t expect you there.” Of course not. He’d been sitting in the dark.
He laughed. “I’m sorry.” Then, he answered my question with a nod of his chin. He picked up a another piece of glass and threw it in the trash. “Don’t move. I’ll get the broom.”
I stood, feeling a sharp pinch on my big toe. “Mother-pluckers.” I hopped on one foot, realizing I had stepped on a shard of glass.
“I said, stay still.” Charles’s voice boomed.
I flinched, cowering into myself. I hated that it was an automatic reaction, that my body had been taught through the years to fear a man like that. He stilled, his eyes widening just a tad. When I tore my gaze from him, he walked toward the closet.
He came back in with a broom, sweeping all the tiny pieces of glass away. I bent my leg and pulled out the piece of glass from my toe, and tiny droplets of blood rushed to the surface.
“Do you have a Band-Aid?” I asked, applying pressure to my big toe.
A moment later, I yelped because steady arms went under my knees, and I was off the floor. My arms wrapped around his neck, and I felt his strong shoulders pressed against my body. I swallowed. This man must live at the gym. My pulse picked up in speed at the nearness of him.
He placed me on top of the kitchen table and averted his eyes. “I didn’t want you stepping on any more glass. I’ll need to clean up that area later.” He walked toward a set of drawers by the coffee machine and pulled out a first aid kit. After placing it on the table, he opened an alcohol wipe, sat on the chair, and lifted my foot.
“I can do that.” My voice shook, and panic settled in my gut.
Only then did his eyes meet mine, a deep chestnut brown to my green ones. “It’s fine. I’m used to this. Mary is a stunt devil but also the biggest baby. I have to bandage her small paper cuts.” He lifted the bottom of my pajama pants, and his eyes flashed to mine.
I pulled my foot back, my knee to my chest.
“What happened to your ankle?” His voice heightened.
I swallowed hard and couldn’t meet his gaze. “I was a daredevil in my younger years. Bicycle accident.” The lie came out naturally, flowing from my lips, as I’d repeated the story a million times before.
I lifted my head and offered a small smile. He didn’t return it.
Once again, he gently lifted my ankle and met my eyes. “May I?”
I bit at my thumbnail, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. “Sure.”
When he swiped at my toe with the alcohol wipe, I held my breath. The action was slow and deliberate. His strong hands were tender against my skin, and everywhere he touched felt intimate in a way. I bit my bottom lip, watching him as warmth spread throughout my body.
After he tore open a bandage and wrapped it around my toe, he stood.
In front of me, between my legs.
My heart lurched madly at his close proximity.
