Page 112 of The Re-Proposal

“Papa bear.”

“Yeah, let’s go with Bolton.” I hold Joel’s wheelchair for him so he can climb inside the car. The kid almost slams his head against the roof because he’s gazing so hard at Ris.

“Keep your eyes in your head and try not to get a concussion,” I grunt.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off. And then he doubles back with an excited grin. “Is today the day you’re keeping your end of the deal?”

“What deal?”

“Come on, man. My date with Clarissa.”

“That’s enough out of you.” I not-so-gently palm his forehead and shove him through the door.

Slamming it shut for good measure, I walk around to Clarissa’s side. She’s still standing on the sidewalk, her phone in her hands. Her beautiful face is creased in worry.

“Did someone call?” I jut my chin at the phone.

“No.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I’m just nervous about… everything. I don’t know how Clay plans to clean this up. What if Hatchen makes a big stink and gets everyone in trouble? It’ll all be my fault.”

“It wouldnotbe your fault. It would be that dirtbag’s fault for hurting you.”

She rocks back, still looking unsettled.

“Clay knows what he’s doing.”

“There’s always room for error,” she says.

Ris needs a distraction. Badly.

I lean in. “You know,” I drop my voice to a husky whisper, “I’m technically the one who was supposed to go inside for Joel. He’smyfake son.”

Clarissa raises her chin. “Tough.”

“You’re not reciprocating his feelings, are you?”

“Do I look like I want to go to jail?” She scoffs.

“Just making sure.”

“The great Cody Bolton jealous of a teenager?” Her breath whispers over my face.

Adrenaline spikes through my veins, but I can’t blame my run-in with Hatchen for the rush. This beautiful, innocent, kind-hearted woman is the one making my blood roar.

Joel winds the window down. “You two! Enough staring into each other’s eyes!”

Ris breaks eye contact.

I’m going to throw that kid off a roof.

Scowling, I hold her door open, watching as she ducks inside.

Back in the car, Joel stares at me. “Is that… blood on your collar?”

“No,” I grind out. “And put on your seatbelt.”

Joel’s eyes drop to the bruises on my knuckles. “What happened to you?”

“I fell,” I say, driving out of the hospital parking lot.

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