Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Lake
Fucking ouch.
“Oh my God!” Footsteps pounding toward me.
“Woof!” Nails clicking on the floor.
My ass. Sweet Jesus, my ass.
“Lake, oh my God, are you okay?”
I get my elbows under me, open my mouth to tell her to be careful.
It’s too late.
I watch her feet slip out from beneath her and she starts to fall, seemingly in slow motion as I roll toward her, trying to break her fall—
I do.
Just not the way I intended.
I move.
She falls…
“Oof!” I grunt.
…and lands right on top of me.
“Woof!” Steve launches himself at us, tiny demon paws landing on my stomach.
“Oof,” I grunt again.
“Shit,” Nova says, pushing against my chest hard enough that I grunt a third time, but then she’s scrambling off me, trying to corral Steve who’s whining and snotting and licking at my chin with horrific doggy breath.
“Steve, baby”—she grabs at the pooch, but he just launches himself at me with renewed vigor—“get off, I need to see if Lake is—”
I sit up, ass still hurting. “Are you all right?”
She frowns. “Lake, you just took a spill and then I crushed you and Steve—”
I reach forward, cup her jaw, forcing her to stop sputtering and panicking and just look at me. “Are you hurt?”
Silence, except for the sounds of Steve’s grunts and grumbles.
Then she shakes her head. “No.” A wince. “You broke my fall.”
“Good.” I shove the dog at her, move slowly to my feet and over to the front door, shutting it with some effort, closing out the wind and snow that are being blown into the entryway.
“I’ll get some towels,” she says, standing too quickly and nearly ending up on her ass again.
I snag her arm, steady now that I’m expecting the slick surface.
I grew up with blades strapped to my feet, I can navigate ice and a wet floor…
most of the time, anyway. “Careful,” I say, guiding her away from the wet puddle gathering near the door, thinking I should have bought some rugs to go with my towels.
And furniture since this woman slept on a pile of blankets instead of a bed.
Not my problem.
So why does it feel like it is?
Steve launches himself out of her arms and I dart forward, catching him before his dumb, tiny demon ass hits the floor. “Careful,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem to hear the admonishment at all as he crawls up my chest and tries to lick at my face again.
Nova giggles softly, and I freeze as she steps away, not sure if I’ve heard her laugh yet.
If I have, it hasn’t been like that—hasn’t been soft and sweet and…
beautiful, so fucking beautiful it’s like a clawed hand gripping my heart, forcing me to remain motionless, so beautiful I’m stuck in place as she pats Steve’s back and says, “I’ll get you some ice and grab some towels to clean up the mess. ”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m fine, but before I can, she’s moving off, bustling to the pile of blankets, extracting a towel, and making me feel like an ass all over again as she carries it back over to me.
I reach for it, but she moves behind me, wraps it around my shoulders. “You’re soaking wet.”
My ass is, because while I’d worn my winter coat and boots, I hadn’t bothered to put on something heavier than jeans.
Something I realized was a mistake approximately two minutes after walking out the door.
But…I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about Nova on the floor, kept getting up to add logs to the fire, kept thinking about the way she told me she wasn’t going to eat extra after sharing food with her dog.
Food that was in her car.
Food that’s now sitting just inside the front door, where it landed when I tried to break my ass on the melted snow I tracked in on my multiple trips to the firewood rack throughout the night.
Something she notices as she goes still on her hands and knees, the mopping up of my mess pausing, towel stilling, head having jerked to the side.
Then slowly looking over her shoulder at me.
Soft expression. Pretty face.
Lush ass in the air.
This is fucking dangerous.
Steve woofs and wriggles to be let down, probably finally sensing his food is in the vicinity.
And sure enough, the moment I release him, his nails start clacking on the floor again as he takes off for the entryway and his mistress and…
Stuffs his nose in that bag of food.
“I need a rug,” I say, moving toward her and bending down to nudge Steve back, to grab the bag with the rest of his things—bowls and chew toys and what appeared to be a year’s supply of kibble and treats when I peeked inside earlier—scooping it up, and hanging it on my shoulder.
She doesn’t move, just watches me with wide eyes, so I bend again, snagging her arm, helping her up to her feet, and drawing her away from the mess at the door. “Feed the tiny demon,” I say, passing her the bag and snagging the towel from her grip. “I’ll finish up here.”
“You went out in the Snowmageddon and got Steve’s food.”
I nudge her toward the kitchen. “Yeah, butterfly, but that doesn’t matter. Steve’s hungry.”
A woof from our feet.
I look down and see Steve sitting like the good boy he isn’t, pleading puppy eyes on us, expression saying, “Yes, I am very, very hungry. Starving even.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“It’s not complicated,” I say, starting to feel a little impatient.
Something she picks up on because her eyes start to clear and she shakes her head slightly. “You went and got Steve’s food.”
I pass her the bag, table the impatience, even though part of me hates that she’s clearly surprised.
Is it because I went and did something that can be construed as nice—that she’s shocked I can stop being an asshole for a minute?
Or is it that she can’t believe someone would do something nice for her?
Considering what assholes her ex and sister are, that can also be playing into her reaction.
But I don’t want to think about that.
“Tiny demons have to eat too,” I tell her.
She blinks, shakes herself again, but then proves she can take it on the chin with the best of them, her fingers wrapping around the bag, her shoulders straightening. “Steve is not a demon, tiny or otherwise.”
My mouth hitches up. “Just a pervert?”
Her eyes narrow and she flounces off toward the kitchen. “Rude.” A glare over her shoulder, lips twitching. “Chop. Chop. Get to cleaning.”
“Maybe you’re the tiny demon,” I say, shaking out the towel.
“Maybe you’re the large one.”
The other half of my mouth curves, and I grab both ends of the towel, start rolling it.
She’s in the kitchen now, but she doesn’t miss what I’ve done. “Don’t you d-dare,” she sputters.
“What?” I ask, prowling toward her. “Punish you for your insolence?”
“No,” she squeaks as I let the towel shoot out with a sharp crack. “You’re supposed to clean up the water while I feed Steve.”
“Hmm.” I set the towel on the counter, lean back against it, very much in her space and not giving a damn.
“I don’t think that’s a fair trade. After all”—I shift toward her, so close that our bodies are pressed together from thigh to shoulder, so close I’m able to feel her arm move against mine as she fills Steve’s bowl with food—“you’re the one who crushed me. ”
Her head whips toward mine, eyes flashing. “I didn’t mean to crush you. I was trying to help you when you fell.”
A beat, trying to keep my amusement out of my words. “And how do you explain your little demon dog trying to claw me to death?”
Her eyes narrow. “Steve was worried, you—you…annoying…annoyer.”
I freeze, brows drawing together.
Then laughter bubbles up in my chest, dances across my tongue, explodes out of my mouth.
Her face goes slack, that fire in her eyes extinguished, and the befuddlement that fills her expression is so beguiling that I think—
Fuck it.
I bend down…
And kiss her.