And that makes my chest ache. I want to show her there’s beauty and goodness in this life. But if I’m really being honest? I want to be that for her. I want to be the one who takes care of her instead of always being the one she protects.
I understand she has a job to do, which could end at any time. Especially once the authorities realize they’re chasing after nothing. However, I’m convinced Lily and I could have something amazing together, but the ticking clock in this scenario is getting louder and louder. And I feel like I’m in thethird period of a tied game with less than five minutes to shoot the winning goal.
She continues to wipe down the counter while I stand on the other side of the island. Despite the late hour and the ache in my side demanding that I lie down, I’m not ready to go to bed. She probably thinks I haven’t noticed how she’s avoided me since we kissed. With a house full of guests, it’s easy to stay busy, but I noticed.
And I don’t like it because that kiss was epic. I didn’t expect it to turn into a massive PDA show. She did that, and I’d be an idiot—let alone flat-out lying—to say I didn’t enjoy it. More than enjoy it.
I read once that fireflies adapt their flashing patterns to attract a mate. Consider me sucked into the glow that is Lily because she figured me out on day one. For the first time in my life, I can picture myself in that kind of relationship—something serious that could lead to, well, more. Maybe even a lifetime.
Perhaps it’s because she has to be here twenty-four-seven as part of her job or because she wound up taking care of me and my cracked ribs. I probably could have showered on my own and survived subpar cleanliness for a few more days. If I were alone, I’m positive the rest of the blokes would have stopped by to help with what I needed. Outside of the shower, of course. But Lily’s been a champ through it all.
Somehow, I have to get her to engage with me. “You play dirty.”
She stops mid-sweep across the counter and blinks at me. “Black.”
Why is she naming a color? “What?”
“Just calling the pot what it is.” A sly grin tilts her pouty lips while she resumes her cleaning.
Now that I know what those lips feel like, I want them even more. “Touché, Kettle.” I hold up a finger with mythought. “You know, I’ve been trying to think of a good nickname for you. You have one for me, so it only seems fair.”
She continues to move around the kitchen, appearing half-distracted. “And?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
With a definitive yet controlled breath, she brings her full attention to me. “Enlighten me.”
How the tables turn. And it’s my turn, indeed. “Kettle. That will be my endearment for you from now on.”
She tosses the dishrag into the sink. “Think again, big guy.”
You’d expect the snark in her voice would deter me, but it has quite the opposite effect. “I will if you will.”
“Will what?” She strides to the front door and checks the lock, then does the same with all the windows as she’s done every evening.
“Think of a different nickname?” I do love sparring with her like this.
“I never meant it as a nickname.” She’s sounding more and more irritated. Or is she flustered?
“Then what is it?”
She gestures her hand at me, waving it up and down. “A fact. You’re a big guy.”
That adorable blush seeps up her neck and into her cheeks as if she hadn’t intended to vocalize that thought. “How nice of you to notice.”
She lets out something between a growl and a grunt and storms toward her bedroom.
“Where are you going?” I let out a soft hiss through my teeth as my side reminds me I can’t twist like that right now.
“To bed.” She tosses over her shoulder, then stops in front of her door. Her shoulders slump just before she spins around. “Do you need any help before I go to my room?”
She says this like a robot as if it’s a required duty. That’s the last thing I want her to think of me as—a requirement.
“I’m fine, but thank you for asking.”
“No more going outside unattended.” She glares at me.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reassure her.
