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Of all the things I’d thought would happen in the last twenty-four hours, getting my ass kicked at work and having my long-lost stepbrother appoint himself my caregiver had not been on my bingo card.
I’d already been in an off mood before I’d gone to work. Now I was exhausted, in a hell of a lot of pain, and starving. The shit trifecta, if you will.
Every bump in the road and jerky stop of the car grated on my already-frayed nerves, and it took every ounce of my willpower to not snap at him. The roads were shit, so the bumps weren’t his fault, but the hard stops were, and every one of them felt personal.
“Fucking Mayberry around here,” I muttered as he turned into a development of identical-looking townhouses. The tall blue and gray structures all had cute little porches, well-manicured lawns, bright white trim, and lampposts that wouldn’t look out of place in a turn-of-the-century painting.
Caleb ignored me and drove down one, then another, then a third indistinguishable street. By the time he stopped behind a row of houses, I was so turned around I had no idea where we were or how to get back to the main roads.
“You live here?” I asked as he pressed a button on the remote clipped to his visor. The garage door in front of us began to lift.
“No, we’re breaking in and living out my Goldilocks fantasy.”
“You’re fucking hilarious.” I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window.
“I like to think so.” He drove into a tiny room. It didn’t look like any garage I’d seen. The space was finished and brightly painted and had about four feet of clearance on each side when he parked. He killed the engine and got out.
I opened the door and shimmied around, pushing through the pain radiating through most of my body.
“Keep your pants on and let me help you.”
“I’m fine.”
There was the groan of the garage door as it closed.
Caleb stopped in front of me, my ass still planted in the passenger seat. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think that word means what you think it does.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yes you do. I’m too tired to spend the next hour scrubbing blood off my floor when you fall on your face. And I’m not driving your ass back to the ER. Now stop being a stubborn ass and let me help you. Unless you want to call an ambulance and spend the day in triage again.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and moved closer, his legs on either side of mine, and all I could do was look up at him. “Don’t think of it as help. Think of it as me making sure you don’t break your neck on my watch.”
My face was only about six inches from his crotch. Holy fuck his scrub pants left nothing to the imagination. The outline of his cock was long and thick and snaked down his leg. He wasn’t even hard but was about the same size as me when I was rocking a full boner. I’d always thought I was gifted in the dick department, but goddamn, I had nothing on him.
Caleb had been eighteen the last time I saw him, and the gangly teen who was all skinny arms and legs was a far cry from the man who’d walked into my treatment room.
He’d filled out. He wasn’t built or jacked, but his body was well muscled and toned. His acne had cleared up, and the horrible buzz cut was gone. Now his skin was clear and smooth, and his dark hair was in a similar style as mine, only the front was long enough it fell over one eye. The style was part emo swoop from the 2000s, part high fashion, and looked unfairly good on him.
He was still taller than me, which pissed me off for some reason. At six-two, I wasn’t short, but I wasn’t exactly a giant compared to a lot of men. Caleb had to be six-four now.
I hated being helpless and needing him of all people, but the worst part of the entire situation was how my body was reacting to him. He was my type to the letter, and his dark hair, dark eyes, brooding intensity, and big, strong body were exactly my weaknesses.
Teenage Caleb had done nothing but irritate me to high hell. Adult Caleb irritated me too, but he also made my dick wake up, which really pissed me off.
“Stop scowling and lean forward,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s all you’re getting. Now lean forward into me and put the foot of your good leg a bit behind the other one.”
Too tired to keep arguing, I did as he said.
