Page 15 of Timelessly Ours
I twist defensively. “I know how that looked but you didn’t hear what—”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. Something I found strangely sexy in the past—until now—when the headache is me. “I didn’t need to hear what happened before. While I’m sure you weren’t threatening her, if she felt uncomfortable in the slightest in my house, I could have a big problem.”
Shit. I never thought of that.
My eyes drop—but not my head—I don’t drop my head for anyone. He moves past me to the kitchen, not bothering to wait for my response or apology. I swallow and remember I have a little girl waiting for me.
Rory didn’t waste any time unloading all her toys onto the rug. Barefoot, I step over a few hard objects and nestle myself about a foot from her. “What are we playing with?”
“Here.” She pushes a set of colorful magnets in my direction, and I connect them with no particular thought as to what I’m supposedly building.
“Daddyyyy.” Rory skillfully jumps over the toys scattered all over the floor before running into her father’s arms.
“Hey, kid. How was school?”
“I had a good day,” they both say simultaneously, and it drags a smile out of me. Royce’s version comes with a nod and is a little flatter as he openly calls out her predictable response.
He sets her down and his eyes land on mine. I look away and open the juice box for Rory, luring her back to me for it.
“Thank you.” She sprints over and grabs it, then gulps down the entire box in less than sixty seconds.
“And how was your day?” Royce asks me.
I ignore the question and level his gaze, my jaw tight. “I didn’t realize that could have…caused problems for you—I apologize.”
I haaaate apologizing. I don't know how to do it. And it's just not in my blood. But I would never want to get him in any trouble.
He lifts a brow as if I’ve taken him by surprise, then looks at his daughter. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
It’s subtle, but I’m relieved he recognizes that I was being protective of Rory.
I stand. “On that note, I’d better get going,” I say casually, pretending to have forgotten our earlier conversation that I might need my brother’s supervision again.
“Nicole.” There’s almost a warning in his tone. Almost.
“I’d love to stay and play some more, but I need to pick up my car.”
One of the last things I remember before setting my ass onto a barstool is tossing my keys to Griff. Because unless they had your keys, you’re on a tight limit for the night.
“No need. It’s in the driveway.”
Frowning, I move to the window, and wouldn’t you know it—my sedan is parked next to his Range, practically invisible by comparison.
I turn back to him. “How did you get the keys?”
“I looked for you at Sylvie’s. A smart gentleman who knew better than to argue with me gave them to me.”
Feeling more mortified by the minute, I shake my head. “Alright well, are they in the car?”
“No.” He sets his hands in his pockets casually.
Closing my eyes, I release a steady breath before opening them again. “What exactly are we waiting for?” I poise my question carefully.
I will not be irrational. I will not be forceful. I will not lose control.
“Dinner is at six.” He glances at Rory. “We can talk shortly after.”
I follow his glance, knowing why we can’t have this conversation now. “And exactly what time does she go to bed?”