Chapter 46
God, he smells good. It’s not fair. I’m at my absolute lowest right now, and here he is, smelling like a million bucks. Or in his case, several million bucks.
I pull from the hug and smile at him, unable to stop myself from the smile. “Uh, so if we’re going to pretend like this never happened, I’m going to have to get ready for work?—”
“Eh, no.”
“We’re not pretending this didn’t happen?”
“No. You’re not going to work. You’re playing hooky today.”
I laugh. “I already missed yesterday and didn’t get to call them, so?—”
“On account of kidnapping,” he says, like I don’t know. “You get to take some time to deal with that, June. I’m guessing you never take days off as it is, right?”
“Well no, but?—”
“So, they owe you some leeway. Take it. Please.”
Why did he have to add the please? “Ugh. I’m such a sucker for a man who begs. Fine. I’ll stay home today.”
He grins. “That wasn’t begging.”
“I got a please out of you, of all people. I’m counting it.”
His laugh makes me warm inside. It’s like a cheat code to my body. Very unfair. “Call in with work, and we’ll order delivery and have naps, and we’ll figure things out as we go along. Do you mind if I shower?”
“You saved my life. Take all the showers you like.”
His boyish smile kills me. “Hardly call it saving your life, but I don’t mind the gratitude.” He struts toward the bathroom, like he knows I’m staring at his butt through his jeans.
Of course, I am. But that’s not the point. What is it like to walk around with his level of confidence all day long? I’ll never know.
Doesn’t matter. Gotta call Callie. She had texted me a couple of times, and I’d ignored them until now, because I didn’t know what to say. But a call will put her at ease.
She answers fast. “June, are you okay?”
“Uh, food poisoning. Atomic food poisoning. Somehow I got food poisoning, and then the flu or a cold or something. Can you let everyone know?”
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“If it gets worse, I will. For now, it’s Gatorade and crackers.”
She sighs. “Girl, you sound like hell.”
“I feel worse.” At least that part is true.
“Okay. Want me to stop by? Bring you something?”
“No, but thanks. I got everything delivered, and I’m sure I’m contagious?—
“I’ll stay far, far away. No problem, hon. Get some rest.”
“Thanks. Talk later.”
Okay. I don’t like lying to Callie. But this is for her own good. Anderson is right—getting anyone else involved is only going to put a target on them, and I won’t do that to her or anyone I care about. I hate that Anderson is involved in this at all. He doesn’t deserve this, just because he’s his father’s son. It’s ridiculous that he’s gotten sucked into it. Or that I am sucked in because of my connection with him.
So, no more people added to the equation. The math is already bad.
The odd thing about being tied up in a basement for an unknown number of hours is how it clicks into your head afterward. Like, if I blink too long, I’m back there. If Anderson hadn’t slept over last night, I never would have fallen asleep. Closing my eyes is dangerous to my psyche, and that’s already feeling fragile right now.
At one moment, I’m fine. I feel normal. And then the next, I’m ready to rip the cabinet door off their hinges. I’m angry, but it bubbles up in weird moments, instead of being a constant. The irrational part of my brain wants to blame Anderson. To make him leave. That is what Andre said, isn’t it? To un-involve myself with him? But this isn’t his fault. He has nothing to do with any of this.
Besides, I don’t want him to go.
He’s been so kind and supportive and so sweet that it makes my teeth hurt. I love how he’s been taking care of me. Giving me space, letting me breathe. He got waffles delivered, then brought them to me in bed. And he slept on top of the blanket, like a gentleman. Not to mention the fact that he came for me in the first place.
It makes me want to rip his clothes off.
That’s what a hero should get, right? All the naked, sweaty good stuff? But he’s being so good to me, and it worries me. Does he see me as a responsibility instead of a woman? Is that why he’s being so perfect? Am I a project to him now?
I don’t think I am, but I don’t know. I’ll give him the chance to make a move. If he doesn’t, then maybe he thinks of me as … what exactly? The woman he bought at auction, owes a lot of money to, pretended to be engaged to, then inadvertently got kidnapped? Huh. There really is no simple one-word title for all of that. I don’t think friend really covers it.
When Anderson comes out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else, my mouth waters. Can’t be helped. It’s just biological, right? No one should have that many abs. It’s not fair, it’s?—”
“June, are you okay?”
“Um, what?”
“I said I needed some coffee before I got dressed, and you just stared into space. Do you need to sit down? Are you dizzy?”
Great. “Not dizzy, just lost in my thoughts. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
But he puts his big, hulking hand on my upper arm and looks deep into my eyes. “I will always worry about you.”
Can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing right now, but he’s almost naked and standing right in front of me, so that’s a good thing. “Thanks.”
He smiles sweetly. “Okay. Coffee, then clothes. Sorry about coming out here in just a towel. But I didn’t think you’d want me running around in your robe.”
I can’t help but giggle at the thought. “The one with the embroidered flowers? No, please. Help yourself.”
He downs his coffee and smirks. “Maybe next time. Be right back.” As he makes his way to the bathroom, the towel drops, and he mutters, “Shit,” before snatching it up fast to cover himself.
Not that I minded the view of his muscular ass. Why is he being so shy still? I mean, I get that he’s trying to give me space and be polite, but I’ve seen him naked before. It’s literally nothing I haven’t seen before.
Crap. I’m a project to him. I cannot let that be the case. When he comes back out, I have to make a move.
He returns dressed. “Thanks. I feel like a person again. And I was thinking about something we could do today.”
Me too. “What’s that?”
He reaches behind himself and pulls out a bottle of red nail polish from his back pocket. “What do you think?”
“You need your pedicure touched up?”
He grins. “No. I was thinking I could paint your nails.”
Is this a fetish or something? “What a random thing to do.”
“When I was a kid, I liked to paint. For a while there, Mom and Dad went through a rough patch, so I started painting her nails to cheer her up. I used to be pretty good at it, if you want to give it a shot.”
Oh my god. I’m not just a project. I’m a fixer upper. “You think my nails need?—”
“No, no. Just thought you could use some cheering up.”
He’s right. If we’re just friends now, I’m going to need that. “Um, okay. Yeah. Sure.”
“Great,” he says, grinning. “I’ll get it all set up.” Then he vanishes back into the bathroom. When he comes out with his arms full of stuff, it’s clear we’re not just doing nails. He’s giving me a DIY spa day. First it’s the nails, followed by an eye mask, which triggers my trauma from the blindfold, so we move on to a shoulder massage while we wait for my nails to dry. He even agrees to watch a teen slasher for me.
It’s amazing, but I feel bad. “You know you don’t have to do all this, right?”
“Yes, well, my father is the reason you were kidnapped, so let me work out some guilt on the knots in your shoulders.”
“You don’t have to feel guilty about any of it—oh. That spot.”
“On it.”
I can’t take advantage like this, so I turn around. “Anderson, stop.”
“Why? Are you okay? Did I?—”
“You’re great. But I’d rather just hang out with you and eat too much Chinese food and watch some teenagers run from the guy with the machete. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you want, June.”
We settle on the couch with our takeout boxes and chopsticks and get into the movie, while I try to figure out how to make a move on him. Just as the protagonists run for the SUV and I’m about to scream, “He slashed the tires, just run!” Anderson says, “There is something I need to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“I feel terrible about the money I owe you, and well, everything else, and?—”
“Please stop assigning terrible feelings to things related to me. That’s not exactly what a girl wants to hear.”
He chuckles. “Point taken. You know I didn’t know my father would have our CFO freeze my account, right?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“With Dad’s actual business practices coming to light, it’s clear he’s involved in some shady shit. But in the shower, I got an idea, and I want to run it by you.”
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