Chapter 20 #2
I shrug and follow him into the kitchen, where we drop the dishes into the sink. “Somewhat, but they all cut me out once Jeremy and I separated. I guess you could say I got the dogs and the house, while he got to keep all of our friends and family. Oh, and I got my Bronco.”
“All of your friends?”
“Pretty much. I mean, I didn’t really get to know your sister until a few months ago, but she’s kind of it now.”
He frowns and hands me a clean plate to rinse and dry. “You didn’t really make her cry the day you met, did you?”
I huff out a laugh. “Our introduction happened only a few hours after I found out my ex was officially filing for a divorce. Unfortunately for Daisy, I wasn’t in the right headspace for all that blonde hair and unbridled optimism.
I’m pretty sure she went home and cried to Landry about her mean-girl mentor teacher.
Although she did manage to keep it together in front of me, I’ll give her that. She’s tougher than she looks.”
“Sounds like she bounced back just fine,” he says, smiling.
“Yeah. I apologized the next time I saw her, and it turns out we’d both had a shitty day.
And even though she probably doesn’t need my friendship as much as I need hers, it’s been nice having her in my corner.
Whether she realizes it or not, her little sprinkling of sunshine has helped me through some of my worst days.
” I turn away, embarrassment coloring my face after that confession.
“I get it. She’s my favorite for a reason,” he adds, bumping my shoulder gently, and I can appreciate that he doesn’t make me feel worse with some over-the-top sympathetic response.
“For the record, I’ve tried to pull my weight with a couple of cooking lessons,” I tell him, attempting to hide my sniffle. “But I think that might be the only thing she’s legitimately awful at.”
He chuckles. “No kidding.”
“You probably don’t want to know about the other kind of lessons I’ve been giving her,” I say with a more devious smile, and he groans.
“Right, because I needed one more reminder that my baby sister is now Mrs. Landry Reed and all it entails. Meanwhile, I’m starting to think I’ll never …” He turns and leans back against the kitchen counter, looking dejected.
“You’ll find your soulmate one day. I’m sure she’s out there, just waiting for you to come around and sweep her off her feet with all your sweet talking,” I say with an involuntary pat on his chest.
He scoffs, and I yank my hand away. “Just waiting for me,” he repeats mockingly, his eyes distant.
“Rowan?”
“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Thank you for that.”
His reaction still seems out of character, but I’m afraid to dig any deeper, mostly because I don’t think I’d be able to resist another advance from him tonight if he tried turning that whole soulmate thing around on me again.
I glance over at the clock on the wall. “We should probably go to bed. It’s getting late.”
“Right,” he agrees, pushing himself away from the counter. Then he wraps me up in a hug without warning, and I can’t help but melt into him after a few seconds.
“Thanks again for everything,” he mumbles over the top of my head before he kisses it, and I sigh wistfully, my face still buried in his chest.
Dammit. I’m such a sucker for a good forehead kiss.
“I’m glad we’ve decided to be friends. Despite your allergies and your lack of pipe-laying skills, I might just keep you after all,” I say once I find my voice.
He laughs, and I feel the vibrations in his chest. “I’m very grateful, because I’d really like to keep you, too.”
I pull away after a while, since friends probably shouldn’t hug alone in the kitchen for that long, but I immediately miss the safety and comfort of his arms.
“Good night, Rowan.” My voice is thick.
“Good night, Claire,” he replies, staring at me in a way that doesn’t feel friendly at all. And I’ve never wished so hard for a man to lean in and plant one on me. I certainly wouldn’t stop him if he tried to kiss me right now, even if that meant I owed him the girlfriend treatment for a while.
Instead, he respects my wishes like the good boy he is, gesturing for me to go first instead of pulling me back in.
“Wait,” I hear him say just before his fingers wrap around my arm and keep me from moving forward. My stomach fills with butterflies at his touch, and I crane my neck to look at him.
“Yes?” I ask breathlessly.
“You’re bleeding,” he mumbles, crouching down to study the back of my leg. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing.” My face heats as I reach around to cover the evidence.
“Did you,” he pauses to furrow his brow thoughtfully, “cut yourself shaving?”
I gulp. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t remember.”
His eyes run over my calf, and he shoots me a playful grin. “You shaved your legs for me, didn’t you?”
“No,” I lie and kick him away. “I shave my legs every night.” Another lie.
He laughs as he rises to his feet. “Of course you do. Where are your Band-Aids?”
“I don’t have any,” I retort, frowning. He crosses his arms and glares at me, calling my bluff. “Fine. They’re in the master bathroom.”
He steps forward and scoops me up into his arms without warning, making me squeal.
“This isn’t a medical emergency, you know, which means it’s a blatant violation of the no-touchy rule,” I grumble as I drape my arms around his neck, my gaze already locked onto his mouth.
“I may have agreed to keep my lips to myself, but I also took an oath to do no harm. And I don’t plan on breaking either of my promises, even if you are the most distractingly beautiful woman I’ve ever been tasked with healing,” he replies confidently.
I scoff. “I can’t believe I actually fell for this corny shit before,” I protest instead of begging him to carry me to bed and feed me more of his cheesy lines all night.
After he takes off his shirt, of course.
“You can leave those glasses on, though,” I accidentally say aloud.
Rowan lets out a quiet laugh as he turns and glides through my bedroom, stopping to set me down gently on the bathroom counter. “Medicine cabinet?” he asks, and I nod.
I lick my lips and watch his chest muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt as he reaches over me to retrieve a bandage. Then he wets a washcloth and props my leg on his shoulder to tenderly dab at the dried blood. It’s all I can do not to whimper as he works with my calf resting against his neck.
If this is how he tends to all his patients, sign me up for the next pap smear.
I’m practically trembling with need by the time he presses the Band-Aid onto my skin, his eyes zeroing in on mine just to make sure I understand that he knows what he’s doing to me.
I swallow hard and flutter my eyelashes while I struggle to hide the way I’m clenching my thighs together and straining to keep my toes from curling.
“Be honest, Claire Bear. You like it corny, don’t you?” he mumbles as he straightens, the light scruff on his jaw scraping the inside of my ankle, and I gasp.
I furrow my brow as I stare up at him, trying to gauge how he’d react if I were to crook my leg around his neck and pull him down to me now. His control falters for a second, and I watch his eyes grow darker as he must be considering the same things I am.
“Rowan,” I begin, barely able to get the warning out. But he clears his throat and lowers my leg after one more brush of his hands over my calf.
“Now, that should make it all better,” he mutters, turning his eyes away and adjusting his glasses.
“Thank you,” I breathe, white knuckling the counter to keep myself from reaching out for him.
“I’ll get the dogs. Good night, Claire. Sleep well.”
I accidentally let out an audible whimper. “Yeah, like that’s happening now.”
“Sorry. Maybe I am dangerous, just a little,” he reminds me, stifling a smile as he saunters out.
He has no idea.