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That didn’t seem like the vocabulary of Mr. Stuffy . . . who as it turned out was Mr. Kind too.
He tilted his head. “Probably not.”
I drooped my shoulders. “I don’t know how to sit around and do nothing for a whole afternoon.”
“What about an entire week?”
I scrunched my face in annoyance and then in pain. My head still hurt like a mother.
“I don’t think I could, even on an exotic vacation.”
I sagged, and he slid his arms around me. Without thought, I gave in, letting him hold me. It felt too good to resist.
He kissed the top of my head. “Me neither.”
I heaved out a sigh. Beau wasn’t the only one who didn’t appreciate being told what to do. I hated to leave others to shoulder my burdens.
But more than that, I was irritated with myself for my verbal diarrhea in the hospital. What sort of idiot would blurt out she might be falling for Lincoln Hollingsworth?
That wasn’t bravery. It was stupidity.
Especially when the only reaction was that same stoic stare. If I whacked him with my shoe, would he still have that look?Probably.
“The more you follow the doctor’s orders, the sooner you can get back to your normal life.”
He’d meant it to reassure me. Iknewthat. But normal was back before he’d so rudely barged into our lives. Before he’d done that, normal had seemed pretty darn great. Eric and I had fun. We made the best of whatever situation we were in.
How could the thought of returning to that—without a man who had the emotions of a rock—be unappealing?
Because there was a lot underneath that stone surface. Like a heart. And a decent man. Even if he was overbearing, rude, and impossible.
I pushed him away. Eric would chide me for becoming a grumpy pants. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea for an afternoon away from Lincoln. I could use the space to get myself together.
“Did I say something offensive?”
For a man who was so aware of his surroundings, sometimes he was clueless. And technically, he hadn’t said anything to get upset over.
“Go, so you can hurry up and get back with my brother.”
I needed one of his hugs. Needed to see for myself that he’d survived the night away from me unscathed.
“I’m not comfortable leaving when you’re angry with me.”
I threw my hands up. “Since when? You certainly weren’t concerned with my feelings before.”
“Since you pointed out that I’m rude.”
I deflated. He couldn’t say things like that. It was sweet. Like he was listening to me and valued my way of thinking.
“Don’t think you can change that overnight, pal. Are you trying to tell me you’re going to be more considerate to everyone?”
He took my hands in his. “I don’t give a damn about everyone. Just you.”
Lightly, I shoved again. “Get out of here. Our customers are waiting.”
I couldn’t survive processing a bomb like that in front of him.
Reluctantly, he released me. “My home is yours.”
