Page 93 of A Little Tempting
“I’m back.” He steps closer, keeping his hands raised as if to placate me while his amused gaze skims across every inch of my body. Finally, his attention lands on the broken glass dusting the floor around me, and his brows tug.
“Don’t move.” Disappearing down the hall, he comes back wearing a pair of hard-soled grandpa slippers, wielding a broom and dustpan. With precision, he crouches down and collects the larger shards from around my bare feet. Once they’re tossed in the trash, he sweeps up the smaller pieces. Methodically. Expertly. Effortlessly. Like cleaning up after me is the most natural thing in the world.
Embarrassment coils in my abdomen as I helplessly watch him pick up my mess, debating how I can minimize it or at least help without making things worse like I did earlier tonight.
As he drags the broom along the floor one more time, he sighs, sets it and the dustpan on the floor, glances up at me, and turns around. “All right, my little bull in a China shop, hop on.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you walking around in here with bare feet until I can vacuum without waking everyone up.” He pats his shoulder and repeats, “Hop on.”
“You’re serious?”
“You gonna make me whinny like a pony to prove it?” He smirks. “Whinny. Whinny.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Horses don’t say whinny.”
“What do they say?”
“Uh,neigh?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you sounded nothing like a horse. Now, hop on.”
Gripping his shoulders, I jump on his back, and he carries me away from the mess, setting me on the couch in the family room.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“Nah, pretty sure you’re the one I should be thanking.” The cushion dips as he sits beside me. Tilting my head up with a nudge of his bruised knuckles beneath my chin, he locks his gaze with mine to examine my cheekbone. “Quite the shiner you got there.”
My imagination runs wild as his calloused fingertips skate across my skin with visions of how differently tonight could’ve turned out if I had gone to the dance with him instead. We would’ve danced. Laughed. Probably even kissed. And no one would’ve wound up in handcuffs.
Closing my eyes, I shy away from his hold. “I’m fine.”
“Was it my elbow or his?” he questions.
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “To me, it does.”
I shrug. “Honestly, I have no idea. It happened so fast… Regardless, it was an accident.”
His eyes fill with regret as he holds my stare for a few moments, then leans back against the cushions. “Doesn’t make me feel any less like shit, though.”
“How are you?” I ask. “How was…”
“Jail?” he offers with a smirk. “Surprisingly good once mylawyerarrived.” He says the word like it’s a smoking gun and shakes his head ruefully, watching me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. “You didn’t have to do it, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Call in a favor.”
“Pretty sure you didn’t deserve to be arrested tonight.”
“Pretty sure it didn’t matter. Most people wouldn’t call their family lawyer to swoop in and save the delinquent on the team from their asshole father.”
I bite my tongue to keep from arguing with him. To keep from pointing out how he’s hardly a delinquent and most definitely worth saving. A guy like Reeves? Call it a hunch, but I’m not sure words hold much weight for him. Actions, though? Actions are a different story, and I really hope he grasps mine.
Tucking my feet beneath my butt, I mention, “Your dad seems like a real piece of work.”