Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
When I tap on the door, he flinches, his head snapping around. I hold up a hand, silently apologizing for startling him before opening the door. “What are you doing out here? Is there something wrong?”
He frowns, his brows a solid line over his eyes. Eyes that remind me of steel. They’re that hard. I don’t think he’s ever looked at me this way before.
But just as suddenly as I notice them, they change. They soften. “Nothing’s wrong. I just couldn’t sleep.”
“I hope I wasn’t the one keeping you up.”
“Now that you mention it, you were snoring like a trumpet.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“And how would you know?” He smirks a little, then gives in. “No, you didn’t keep me up. I’ve never been a great sleeper.”
Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? Have you had insomnia? The question is right on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t dare ask it. Since when do I have a hard time expressing myself? He has me acting in a way that even I don’t recognize anymore. “So what? You thought getting dressed and sitting outside in the middle of the night would make you sleepy?”
“The fresh air clears my head. And I figured what the hell, if I fall back asleep now, I’ll feel like shit when it comes time to get up.” That does make sense, even if I don’t believe him. Something else is going on. I mean, I have class later this morning, but I haven’t for days. Nothing to wake up early for. Yet something tells me this is how he’s been spending his nights away from me. Sitting up, watching. For what?
I shiver, and this time, he scowls. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’re barely dressed.” But he doesn’t make a move either.
“Would you come in with me?”
He hesitates, his jaw working like he’s frustrated, like there’s something he wants to say but, like me, is holding back. “Yeah, I will. Otherwise, you’ll give yourself pneumonia or something like that. And then what would I tell your father?”
Is that it? He did tell me a while back that Dad calls him all the time. “Is he giving you shit about me?” I ask once we’re inside with the door locked.
“What do you mean?”
“Does he think you’re being lax with my protection? Is that why you’re sitting outside, watching?”
“No. He knows everything is fine here.” He takes off his jacket, hanging it by the door before going to the kitchen for a drink. I follow him, hopping up on the counter. The marble is cold under my legs, but what’s more important is getting to the bottom of what’s bothering him. The fact that he hardly looks at me doesn’t do wonders for my self-esteem, let’s put it that way.
“What changed? You were so open with me. Is that the problem? You don’t want to be open with me anymore?”
He shoots me a look like I’m crazy. “No. What would make you think that?” All of a sudden, he’s very interested in the cap to his water bottle. Like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
“Let’s start with the way you won’t look at me for longer than a split second.”
He shoots me a look from under his lowered brow. “Happy?”
“Thrilled. Thanks so much.” He rolls his eyes, which only irritates me more. “You’re not very good at hiding when something is bothering you. I hate to tell you that, but it’s true.”
“Is this a performance review all of a sudden?”
I have to fight like hell to keep from lashing out at him. He knows just how to push my buttons, doesn’t he? “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to start a fight. Even though I haven’t done anything worth fighting about except being concerned for you.”
All that does is make him snicker. “I’m not the one you need to worry about.”
Goose bumps race up the length of my arms. “What’s that mean? Who should I worry about?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He leans his back against the counter opposite the island, facing me. Looking at me, finally. “I’m not trying to worry you or scare you. I’m just saying, I’m not worth you worrying about.”
“That’s not true.” When his brows pinch together again, I add, “You’re a human being. That alone makes you worth it.” Oh, smooth. He won’t think I’ve caught feelings for him at all, will he? I’m in so far over my head that I don’t know what to do about it.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. That’s all I mean. I can handle myself.” He lifts his chin, eyes narrowing. “You’re the one I should be worrying about. I’m here to take care of you, to look after you. And I’m starting to wonder if I’ve lost focus along the way.”