Page 24 of Lace 'em Up

But a necessary evil.

My heels, though?

I’m not sure I can muster the strength to actually shove my feet into them.

Yes, my feet feel a lot better.

Just—I study my pumps—not in these shoes.

But I’ve spent almost two full days in bed and King just got the call that Jean-Michel’s security team located Phillip.

At our house.

Sitting in front of the fucking TV like nothing has changed.

Like he hadn’t done what he had and?—

Well, I need to work.

I need to get away from my thoughts.

And…

Away from a certain stubborn hockey player who’s leaning against the open door of his guest bedroom.

“I know you’re perfectly capable,” he says. “The question is why you feel like you need to.”

Because I need to get out of this house?

And away from my thoughts?

And far, far away from this man?

“You have the time off,” he continues. “Why don’t you take it?”

Because if I have to sit alone with my thoughts, with this man any longer I’ll go insane?

Maybe because of that?

None of which I say aloud. Instead, I just glare at him. “I can’t help with my fosters right now”—can’t walk dogs or heft bags of kibble or clean out hoarder houses, so the least I can do is my work for Jean-Michel, especially since he was instrumental in apprehending my abusive ex and all—“so I might as well make myself useful.” I lift a brow. “Is that okay with you, your highness?”

“Back to Prickle Princess I see,” he mutters.

I glare.

Then move toward the door.

He steps in front of me.

“What?” I snap.

“Just work here,” he says. “I have a desk, a quiet space. You can do what you need to do without getting interrupted.”

“I don’t mind interruptions,” I tell him, shifting to the side to move by him.

He doesn’t retreat, doesn’t give me an inch, and I feel my lungs tighten as our bodies brush.

Feel that flicker deep inside that always comes when we touch.

---