Page 30 of The Savior

The next thing she knew, her butt was on the cold granite counter, and he’d positioned her feet to drop into the sink.

“Do you mind?” She slapped his hands away. “Stop.”

Ignoring her, Liam blasted cold water from the faucet, and Chelsea jumped, twisting from the basin. He clamped a hand on her knee. His fingers flexed to hold her leg in place. “Stay put.”

She froze. He’d never touched her before. Not like that. Not with that kind of voice. She didn’t move a muscle. Water rushed over her feet, and he took a step back, folding his muscled arms against his chest.

Though his hand had moved, he pinned her with a look, and finally asked, “Are you okay?”

She tore her gaze back to the sink. “I’m okay—I don’t know why I did that.”

“Sure you do.”

Chelsea chuckled and cocked an eyebrow his direction. “Why?”

He half laughed. “Let’s just say that I’m grateful the floor took the beating and not my head.”

She tried not to laugh. “I wouldn’t have slugged you with the cheese.”

Liam bobbed his eyebrows in a weird way that made her wonder if he’d found another person to be bananas with.

“I would never intentionally harm a jar of queso,” she quickly followed up.

The corners of his lips quirked. “I don’t know.”

“I have too much respect for the healing properties of food.”

He snickered and stepped closer, giving her feet a cursory inspection under the running water. The cheese had washed away, and after they both took an uncomfortable moment to glance at her toes, Liam turned the faucet off. He handed her a towel. “I think you’re going to make it.”

When she finished drying off her feet, she folded the hand towel and braved a quick glance at Liam busying himself around the kitchen. She found no judgment etched onto his face, which was more than she could say for herself earlier.

He paused and leaned against the edge of the counter. His stance reminded her of a mountain, resolute and unmoving. The silence didn’t feel awkward, but she couldn’t define the thick air or how the kitchen seemed smaller. Finally, he said, “Thanks.”

She adjusted on the edge of the counter. “What for?”

His jaw ticked. “For staying in the living room. Even if you think I’m nuts.”

“Bananas.”

He grinned, mouthing,Bananas. “I needed sleep.”

“You did.” She unfolded the damp towel and wound it around her hands, drew in a long breath, then glanced at the cheesy mess. “Maybe I do too.”

“Maybe so.” He eyeballed the floor, shaking his head with a small grin. “That was perfectly innocent queso.”

She snorted then laughed. “I’m sorry. I just lost it—And I can’t believe I cried.”

Shenevercried.

“It was more like a single tear.” He moved next to the sink where her legs dangled over the counter. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

What kind of person does he think I am?Her brow furrowed and lips rolled together.

“I didn’t mean that,” he retracted. “However you took it.”

She waved the apology away but stayed mum. Emotion had lodged itself in her throat.

His hand touched her forearm. “Seriously, Chelsea. It’s been a charged couple of days after a hard year.”

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