“Good. Be easier to deal with your knees if you take your pajama pants off.” Before she could react, he lifted her off the bathroom counter. He stood back a little, waiting. Wasn’t really in his nature to wait. He was generally a man of action.
But she didn’t know him well and he was in her space, ordering her around.
So, he waited.
“Umm...ahh...I can’t take my pants off,” she said in a rush.
“Sweetheart, I promise you, all I am interested in is taking care of you and getting you into bed. Scout’s honor.” He held up his fingers.
She watched him suspiciously. “Were you ever a scout?”
“No, but I was a Navy SEAL, does that count?”
Her whole face softened. “Thank you for your service.”
Sweet as fucking pie.
“Take the pants off, sweet girl. Let’s take care of you and get you into bed.”
He figured it was a sign of just how tired she was that she just nodded and slipped off the worn pajamas. He got a glimpse of her panties. Pale pink with little rainbows on them.
Fucking adorable.
Shit. What was wrong with him? He was used to lacy, sexy lingerie. Since when did he think of underwear as adorable? He lifted her back up before he could think about his reaction to her too much. Then crouching, he stared at her knees. “Oh, sweetheart, these have to hurt.” They were red and the scrapes were angry looking.
“Every time I’m still for longer than five minutes, I seize up,” she admitted to him. “Funny how much more it hurts to fall as an adult than a kid. Shower helped a bit, but they’re still sore.”
He bet they were and she was going to feel even worse in the morning. He clenched his jaw against saying anything.
Damn near killed him.
He stood. “Okay, your knees are done. Let me see your back where you hit the car.”
She just stared at him, then she opened her mouth.
“And I know you’re not going to argue with me because you know how futile that will be.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“Yep,” he agreed. “More stubborn than you are.”
“Not going to get an argument from me about that.”
“Oh, so there’s something you won’t argue with me about?” he teased as he lowered her to the floor and turned her to face the bathroom counter.
“I never argue.”
He snorted. “Could have fooled me.”
“I don’t.” Her voice had a childish note to it.
“Darling, you’re not exactly doing a good job of proving your point right now.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess you could more truthfully say I don’t argue with anyone but you.”
He had her top up, and was hoping their conversation would keep her attention directed away from the fact that he could see a large expanse of her creamy skin. Jesus, the urge to lay kisses along her back, down over what he knew had to be a perfect ass was nearly irresistible.
He took a deep breath then examined at the angry red mark that started on her back and wrapped around her ribs.
Shit.
“Why is that do you suppose?” he asked in a low voice as he gently prodded at her ribs, hoping like hell she hadn’t damaged them badly. What had he been doing lifting her up and moving her around when he knew she was injured?
His rational side was pointing out that if her ribs were that badly damaged, she would have been showing some sign of favoring them. And she certainly would have reacted when he first picked her up. But right now, he wasn’t interested in listening to his rational side.
She winced and he paused. “Sore there?”
“A little.”
Hmm. He wondered what exactly ‘a little’ meant. He had a feeling she was used to hiding her true feelings.
“Should have taken you to the hospital to get checked out.”
She tensed. “Ahh, no you shouldn’t have. It’s a bruise and some scrapes. I’m fine.” She tugged at her top. He let her right her pajamas as he put everything away. When he stood, she had her arms crossed over her chest, gazing at him nervously.
Time for him to back off. She’d reached the limit of her endurance.
“All right, sweetheart. I’m going to go now. One of my boys will bring your car to you in the morning, what time do you leave for work?”
“Quarter to six. Are you sure that’s not too early?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s fine. You wake up and you’re too sore or tired I want you to call in sick, okay?”
He could tell by the stubborn look on her face that she wouldn’t be doing that. His hands itched to land a few smacks on her ass. Not that he would even if he had the right, with her injured and exhausted. Of course, if she were his, then he’d make damn sure she would stay in bed until those dark circles under her eyes disappeared and there was a spring back in her step.
“All right, sweet girl.” He pulled her close, laying a kiss on her forehead. “Walk me to the door.”
She nodded, staring up at him in surprise. He ignored the voice whispering at him to give her a real kiss.
Not happening.
He turned and walked swiftly out of the bathroom, slowing halfway down the hallway as he realized she was struggling to keep up. He hated that. Hated that she was hurt. So, his voice might have been a bit gruffer than he’d intended when he turned back to her at the front door.
“Lock this door behind me and get yourself into bed immediately. Good night.” He opened the door then shut it and waited until he heard the lock click into place. And if he heard a quiet good night come through the door then he put it down to his imagination.
Chapter Four
She was dead on her feet.
She didn’t even know it was possible to be this tired and still function. After Kent left in the early hours of this morning, she’d slipped into bed, grabbed Bun-bun, her stuffed rabbit toy, and fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. When her alarm went off it had felt like a bad dream, but she’d managed to force herself out of bed and into the shower. Her cuts had stung like crazy as the water hit them, her knees were starting to bruise and her side was turning a puke green color.
Awesome.
She’d shuffled through her routine, and stumbled her way outside to find an extremely hot guy leaning against her car in the driveway. He’d straightened when he saw her, watching her walk towards him. It wasn’t fully light out, so she hoped he couldn’t see her wince as she moved but somehow, she thought he did. She figured that being one of Kent’s ‘boys’ he didn’t miss much. She’d seen a number of them over the years she’d been working at the diner, and they all had this dangerous, watchful thing going on. No doubt he was some sort of superhero with excellent night vision, amazing abs and enough testosterone to power a jet engine.
“Hi, I’m Abby,” she introduced herself as she grew closer. She stopped a few feet away, aware that he was still standing between her and the driver’s door of her car.
“I know,” he drawled. What sort of accent was that?
She blushed. Of course, he knew who she was. Dumb ass.
“I’m Macca. You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said suddenly, surprising her.
She blinked, pushed her shoulders back. “I know.”
She sensed amusement coming from him, but told herself she had to have imagined it. He didn’t appear to be the type to be amused by much. He had wide shoulders, stood at least a foot taller than she did and had a neatly-trimmed beard. She wasn’t much into beards, but on him it looked hot. She couldn’t see much more in the semi-dark.
“Street lights here aren’t very good,” she muttered. You’re acting like an idiot. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long. You should have knocked on the door and come in where it was warm.”
He tensed. “You shouldn’t ever let a strange man into your house when you’re alone.”
She sucked in a breath. “You work for Kent, right?”
“I do.”
> “So...”
“Doesn’t matter who I work for. You don’t know me; you don’t let me into your house. That’s your safe place. Now, someone intent on real harm, they’d probably find a way to get inside, but you don’t make it easy and invite them in, got me?”
She got that he was scaring the crap out of her.
“You think someone could break into my house?” She wished she hadn’t asked as soon as she said it. He was right, it was her safe place. But of course, someone could easily get in. She’d seen enough crime shows to know that. Hell, it was one of the reasons she slept with a police baton by her bed.
He shrugged. “Sure. You got no security system to scare them off. Your door doesn’t even have a deadbolt on it. No locks on your windows. Lighting outside ain’t good and your neighbors don’t strike me as the type to come running if they hear a ruckus.”
Well, she couldn’t argue with that. She’d lived here for a long time and her neighbors had changed so many times that she had given up trying to keep up.
“How do you know what sort of locks are on my door and windows?” she whispered. Now he was really scaring her.
“Chief told me,” he said easily. “And now I’ve scared you.”
“Well...umm...yeah.” What was going on here? She’d thought he was just here to drop off her car, not lecture her.
And why had Kent told him that? Why had Kent even noticed? She guessed as a security specialist it was his job to notice. She wasn’t certain if that made her feel better or worse.
“Good,” he replied, surprising her. “A single, attractive female living alone can’t be too careful. So, don’t ever invite me or any bloke you don’t know into your house when you’re alone, understand?”
And now she was getting a lecture. What accent was that? Australian? “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.”
He gave a brisk nod. “You sure you want to go to work? You look like you need to take a couple of painkillers and climb back into bed.”
Okay, how could he go from terrifying her one moment to acting all concerned the next? This conversation had to be one of the most confusing in her life.
“I’m fine. Could I get to my car, please?” The sooner she was out of his presence the better. “I’m going to be late.”
“Sure.” He moved away from her car then opened the door and held it for her. “But your car is making a squeaking noise that I’m certain is the fan belt. And your tires have hardly any tread.”
He wasn’t telling her things she didn’t know. Well, she hadn’t known that about the tires. Or the reason for the squeaking. She knew next to nothing about cars.
She slowly climbed into her car, aware of his gaze on her. She reached for the door handle but he crouched low, peering in at her. The interior light in the car was on, letting her see more of his face. She noted the small scar that intersected one eyebrow and the hazel-green eyes that were staring at her intensely.
“I really am going to be late.”
“Chief ain’t going to be happy with how stiff you’re moving. You sure you’re well enough to go to work?”
No.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Now, thank you again but I have to go.”
“Seatbelt,” was all he said.
She sighed and did up her seatbelt. “Do you all have to pass some bossy test before he hires you?”
He blinked for a minute and then a smile lit up his face, magically transforming it. Suddenly, he wasn’t just handsome. He was breath-takingly gorgeous.
“Something like that,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m gonna drive behind you, make sure you get there okay so don’t be concerned if you see my headlights.”
“That’s not necessary, I drive this route nearly every day.” He really had done enough.
“Not after being injured and getting next to no sleep, you don’t,” he replied. “Just think of it as part of the service.”
Right.
She wondered how many other women had received these services.
No, best not think about that, Abby.
“Well, thanks for bringing me my car. And everything else. I think,” she muttered.
He gave her a nod. “Sweet. Chief said to treat you like one of our own.” He shut the door before she could ask what that meant. Actually, she was pretty certain it was a good thing she didn’t know what that meant. Because it might just be more than she could handle right now.
That had been about eight hours ago and her shift was nearly over. Thank the Lord. She just wanted to go home, take some pain killers and crawl into bed. She didn’t care about food or anything else.
Home. Pain killers. Bed.
“Abby, I need to talk to you.”
She groaned at those words. She didn’t have the energy for Gloria right now. But the older woman was her boss and Lord knew, she needed this job. She walked slowly to where Gloria sat in a back booth, trying to school her face into something pleasant. Or at least so she didn’t look like she’d enjoy wrapping her hands around the older woman’s chicken neck and ...
All right. Enough of that. She wasn’t usually given to murderous urges. But she was exhausted.
Gloria didn’t even glance up, didn’t invite her to take a seat in the booth seat across from her even though Abby had been on her feet all day. She had her laptop open and documents spread out across the table. For Gloria, this was work. But it was mostly show, since she was usually socializing with her friends or online shopping.
Oh well, she was the boss so Abby figured it wasn’t any of her business. It was a little annoying that she took up an entire booth which could be filled up with paying customers during peak times.
But again, not her business.
“Oh, there you are. Took your time.”
Abby wanted to point out that she’d been standing there for at least a minute before Gloria had bothered to raise her dyed-platinum head.
But again, her boss. Not for her to argue.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“I’m going to need you to work tomorrow.”
Abby froze. That wasn’t happening. Normally, she’d take all the extra hours she could get her hands on, but she’d gotten through today by telling herself she could relax tomorrow.
“I can’t.” The words left her mouth before she even thought them.
Gloria’s bright blue eyes narrowed. “Rachel needs tomorrow off and I need you to cover for her.”
She wanted to ask why Rachel needed the time off, because she was pretty certain it was because Gloria wanted her to go to the club with her tonight. Republic was the place to be seen in Wishingbone. Not that Wishingbone was trendy. It wasn’t a big city. However, if you wanted to be seen, you went to Republic.
She should just agree to work the shift. She didn’t want to get on Gloria’s bad side. She had the habit of exacting revenge against those who pissed her off. The only reason she’d never turned her bitchiness on Abby was because she barely even noticed her.
“I don’t feel well,” Abby told her, surprising herself. Since when did she lie? Although it wasn’t entirely a lie. She was feeling flushed and light-headed, but she knew that was from exhaustion not a virus.
Gloria waved a hand away. “Are you contagious?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then you’ll be fine. You do look like shit, though. You might try putting on some make-up. Our customers don’t want to be put off their food.”
The insult sucked the breath from her lungs. It hurt. And she wished to hell she could tell Gloria where she could stick her job. But unless she wanted to end up homeless or find herself missing a few fingers or toes then she knew she couldn’t say a word.
“I’ve got you down for the early shift. You can go now.”
Abby just turned away. She hated being stuck. Hated feeling like a coward. But what choice did she have?
So, she turned around and shuffled out the door.
By the time she got home, she was so tired
she could barely see straight. She stumbled into her house, shuffled down to the bathroom to grab some painkillers and wash her face. Then she moved into her bedroom, pulled on her pajamas, threw her uniform into the laundry pile, pulled the curtains and slid into bed.
Bliss.
KENT POUNDED ON THE door again.
No answer.
Where was she? Her car was in the driveway. Had she gone for a walk? In this neighborhood? Okay, so it was the middle of the afternoon and probably safe but he still didn’t like the idea.
Overprotective much?
He knew he shouldn’t feel this protective of someone he wasn’t involved with. And he definitely had not intended to find himself here today.
But he couldn’t ignore the urge to check on her. Especially after Macca had told him how slowly she’d been moving this morning. He’d also made Kent aware of the state of her car’s tires and that it needed at least a tune-up. He’d be talking to her about that as well. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to drive around on bald tires?
Images of her skidding off the road, crashing, injured or dead filled his mind. Anger pounded through him at the thought and he banged his fist down on the door again.
“Abby! You okay? You in there?”
Still no answer. What if she was ill? What if she’d fallen and hurt herself? Worry mixed with the anger.
She could just be asleep. Or have gone for a walk. He knew he should walk away.
But he wasn’t going to.
He eyed the door. She wouldn’t appreciate him breaking it down. He grabbed the handle, turning it. As the door opened, fury once again flooded through him. What the hell? Worried now that something really had happened to her, he rushed inside.
“Abby! Abby, where are you?” He ran through the house searching for her. Not in the living room, kitchen, bathroom. His gaze jumped to the shut bedroom door. He strode towards it and knocked.
No answer.
“Abby!”
There was a murmur of noise on the other side. He opened the door and walked in. The room had twin single beds and a dresser against the wall between them. It was painted a pale green that had probably once been pretty but had faded to a murky yellow-green that made him feel nauseous. One bed had a lump under the covers and he could spot some chestnut-colored hair poking out of the top of the covers.
Daddy's Sweet Girl (Montana Daddies, #3) Page 5