Page 55 of Sparks Still Fly

She doesn't want this. You're about to have a daughter. This isn't the life she wants.

So far, it hasn’t gotten me out of doing anything too stupid, like giving her my mom’s ring or kissing her neck in public. Hopefully, it’s easier to act like a regular human being and not a fucking horn dog when Julia’s guardianship is on the line because dozens of cameras did not stop me last night.

Once nighttime rolls around, I haven’t seen or heard from Maeve, but I know she’s back in Ojai and in the guesthouse. I’m just about to turn off the lights and head to bed to sleep away all memories of last night, when there’s rapid pounding on my door. It has to be Maeve, because no one can get in here. I rush to the door and when I swing it open, she crashes into me so hard she nearly knocks the wind out of me.

“Oh my god, Owen. There’s a flying rat in the guesthouse! Help me!” She’s holding on to me for dear life, and something is jabbing into my hip. She must have her phone in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

“Wait, what? Flying rat?” I hold her by the shoulders and pull her away from me, needing to check that she’s all right as her whole body is vibrating. “What the hell is going on?” Her hair is in a mess of a bun on top of her head, she has no makeup on and she’s not wearing shoes. Or pants. The only item of clothing on her body is my sweatshirt. The same one from before. I like the sight of her in my clothes far, far too much.

What the hell am I being punished for?

“Maeve, start over. What happened?” I focus on her face, which is pale.

“I was just lying there, ready to start...” She looks at me, shoves her hands in the pocket of the hoodie and continues, “I was just lying there, and then I heard a noise, like something flapping, and then there was a screeching sound, and then I saw this giant fuzzy rat flying at me, and I threw a pillow at it and ran out the door, and now here I am.”

“That sounds like a bat, Maeve. Did you see a bat?” I keep my eyes on her face. Her eyes are darting all over the place, like she’s looking for the flying rat, which is probably a bat, in my house.

“I don’t know! I didn’t stick around long enough to ask its name and what species it was, Owen! I ran out of there, and now I’m here, and I’m not going back there, and you can’t make me. I won’t do it!”

I cradle her face in my hands and angle her head so she can look at me. “You’re all right now, Maevey. You don’t need to go back. You can stay here.” Her eyes immediately soften, and then widen in surprise.

“I can?” Her slender fingers encircle each of my wrists, binding us together.

“Of course you can. I’ll go check things out there tomorrow. You stay here tonight. I have extra rooms.” She takes a small step closer toward me and winces. I look down and notice she’s holding one foot off the floor. My arms move to her waist, and I lift her, walking into the kitchen. It happens so fast I hardly register her hands on my shoulders or the gasp she lets out when I set her down on the countertop.

“Ah! Cold.” I ignore the reminder that she’s not likely wearing very much under my hoodie and move to look at her foot, which is bleeding.

“You’re bleeding. Stay here.” I walk to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, willing my heart to slow the fuck down because it’s just a cut on her foot, and because she’s fine. She’s fine.

I set the kit on the counter next to her and prop her foot on a stool as she watches, wide-eyed. It’s a minor cut, so I clean it quickly and bandage it up.

“You’ll need to clean that tomorrow and change the bandage.” I close the kit and walk to the trash can to dispose of the wrappers.

“Yes, Doctor.” There’s a teasing tone to her voice, which goes straight to my dick.

“Why didn’t you use the flashlight on your phone so you could see where you were going? Might have avoided the cut.” When I look back toward her, she’s shifted on the counter to face me. She still has her injured foot on the stool, the other dangling as she tugs on the hem of the sweatshirt.

“I don’t have my phone. It was too far to grab, so I just ran.” My brows furrow in confusion.

“What the hell is in your pocket, then?” I point toward where I assumed her phone was.

Her eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush as she shoves both hands into her pocket.

“Nothing.”

“What’s in your pocket, Maeve?” She shakes her head, not answering me. “What was in your hand when you left?” I try to come up with a list of things of what it could be.

“Come on. Show me.” She shakes her head again, but now my curiosity’s got the best of me. “Is it the TV remote? It’s okay if you watch television, Maeve. Everyone does it. I think even Hollywood stars do.” I smirk, and she responds with a scowl and another shake of her head.

“Were you shaving your legs? Is it a razor? Because that’s not safe, and you shouldn’t have that in?—”

“It’s my vibrator, Owen!” She takes a deep breath, then looks me dead in the eyes.

That was not on my list.

“What were you doing before you left, Maevey?” I swallow hard, unsure of whether I want the answer to that.

What if she was thinking of some other guy? What if she was getting off to the memory of some idiot who had her while I was trying to get my shit together?

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