Page 67 of Play for Keeps

Eager to be of some real assistance, he yanked the hand towel from the ring by the sink and pressed the soft cloth into her hand. “I’ll grab some water.”

He rushed to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle she’d never opened, but when he heard her vomiting again, he slowed his steps. As much as he wanted to be helpful, he knew no one liked an audience in these situations. Hanging back in the hall, he listened, his heart in his throat as she sniffled and blew her nose. He heard the flush and counted to three before swinging into the doorway.

“Here.” His knees popped as he squatted beside her, extending the bottle out to her.

She uncapped the water and took a sip without meeting his eyes. She drained half before lowering the bottle, but her gaze remained locked on the tile floor.

Needing to look into her eyes, he hooked his forefinger beneath her chin and gently tipped her face up. When she met his eyes at last, he forced a shaky smile. “Better?”

“Can’t hold my scotch,” she said solemnly.

Matching her somber tone, he nodded. “We all have that trouble at some point.”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he wiped the mascara trails from her damp cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He’d never thought someone could still look beautiful when they cried, but Millie was proving to be the exception in so many areas of his life.

Her skin was the rich, velvety white of fresh cream. A rosy blush tinged her cheeks, and the tips of her ears were so pink they glowed. The contrast between the ripe, natural beauty of her face and the over-the-top shock of her hair suited her to perfection. Her eyes shone bright with banked tears, but the sheen only highlighted the sharp inquisitiveness in her all-seeing stare. This was the woman he’d started falling for years before he ought to.

“Was it the stuff about Mari that upset you or me saying I love you?” he asked quietly.

“Might have been the pizza,” she challenged.

Ty dipped his head, then gave it a slow shake. “Nope, can’t blame the food. You didn’t eat any.”

“Apparently, scotch doesn’t mix well with strawberry daiquiri.”

“Whatdoes?”

She sighed and scooted away enough to rest her back against the wall. Her eyes slid shut, and she let her head loll to the side, but still she answered. “Sunny days and warm sand.”

“Well, the sun has been out, but we’re pretty landlocked. Unless you count Lake Mason,” he added. “There’s a swimming beach.” He ran his hand through her tousled hair. “I’d take you.”

Though her eyes were already closed, she squeezed them tighter. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Take you to the beach?”

“Touch me,” she whispered. “This will be so much harder if you touch me.”

He cupped her cheek in his palm. The pad of his ring finger traced the stubborn line of her jaw. “I don’t intend to make it easy for you to dump me, Millie.”

“You’re a good man, Ty. A nice man who always tries to do the right thing.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times to bring him into focus. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

“So you say, but I believe in you.”

“No, I literally can’t.” She knocked his hand away with a jerky wave of her arm. Before he could react, she scrambled to her feet using the wall as leverage. “You said you liked being married. Well, I didn’t.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “I’m not trying to be a jerk or to mess you around. I really like my life. I’m selfish. I don’t want to have to share my space or let someone make decisions for me.”

She stepped sideways, sliding along the wall, making it clear she wanted to get out of the room without any part of her touching any part of him. Ty stood up but otherwise didn’t move from his spot.

“I like sleeping all over the bed if I want. Sometimes I eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. Standing at the sink,” she added. As if her questionable meal choices might be a deal breaker. “I’m a crappy housekeeper.” He must have looked surprised by the revelation, because she rushed on, eager to convince him. “Seriously, I can live with my own filth for a long time.” She wrinkled her nose as she groped for the doorway. “I can’t tell you how long some of the salad dressings have been in my fridge. Do I throw them out?” She gave her head an adamant shake. “No, I toss a new bottle in with the old. They keep each other company.”

“I’m not looking for a maid, Millie.”

She waved him off. “I’m not anyone’s idea of a domestic partner.”

“I didn’t ask you to be mine.”

Millie threw her arms up as she backed into the hall. “You said you were in love with me.”

“I am.” He took a single step toward her, and she reeled back, holding her palms out to ward him off. He halted, but the panic in her eyes gave him all the confirmation he needed. She was as scared as he was. “I think you might fall for me too if you give yourself a chance. Maybe that’s why you’re freaking out.”

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