Page 48 of The Bad Boy Rule

I roll my eyes at the patronizing tone of his voice. “The kids like them.”

A beat passes, the silence stretching between us and making my stomach flip.

I tear my gaze away, the unspoken elephant in the room making us both acutely aware of the awkward tension hanging in the air.

I feel him step closer as my eyes stay on the smooth concrete beneath my feet until his lips brush against the shell of my ear, and I fight the shiver threatening to strike. “Don’t worry, Golden Girl. I’m not going to tell anyone how wet you got with my dirty, filthy hands all over you.”

My eyes dart to his in panic. “How would you even…”

The words trail off because, like a fool, I stepped right into that.

Shit.

His shit-eating smirk widens, and he arches a brow.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, just as he always does. And of course, he has me exactly where he wants me.

Pushing my hands in the back pockets of my jeans, I step back, desperate to create space between us as a turmoil of unwanted feelings storms inside of me.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I repeat the mantra over and over because I obviously need the reminder.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming on short notice. Uh… My parents are already inside. It shouldn’t be but a couple of hours, and while generally I would encourage your uncouth ways, there are children here, so let’s keep it PG.”

The space between his brow cinches tight, and he scoffs. “Jesus, Lennon. I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, well, I need you to be a good boy today.”

When he grins, I shake my head. “See?”

“Don’t act like an idiot in front of the kids. Act like a dick in front of your parents. Got it,” he mutters with a mock salute. “Now, are you ready? I have something to do tonight.”

Like… another girl?

God, why am I eventhinkingthis right now? It’s not even remotely my business what or who he spends his time doing.

“Let’s go.” I brush past him toward the hospital, trying to refocus before the performance that it feels like neither of us is ready for.

Saint is quiet as we walk through the hallway of the hospital, his hands shoved into the pockets of the dark jeans he’s wearing, gaze settled in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything until we get to the entrance of the pediatric ward, turning toward me as we stop. “What are we going to be doing?” His head jerks toward the door. “In there.”

I shrug. “Whatever the kids want us to. We basically just hang out with them, color, read, play Barbies. There’s a therapy Labrador retriever named Muffin that comes by and sees them every day. Sometimes we do arts and crafts or play a game.”

“Yeah, I should probably go ahead and warn you that I’m not great with kids.” He pauses. “There’s only one thing I hate more than people.”

My brow lifts in question.

“Tinypeople. Ones that ask a thousand fucking questions about why is the sky blue and why you have to breathe air to survive. I’m an only child—I don’t know shit about kids except they poop in diapers and cry all the time.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing. Saint not great with kids…shocker.

“Saint, most of the kids in here aren’t babies. They’re older toddlers and young kids. Sure, they’ll probably ask you a billion questions, but you’re not going to have to change any diapers.”

“Thankfuck,” he mutters, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “This was not part of the arrangement, Golden Girl. You’re lucky I’m ready to get mypeacefulice time back, or you’d be here by yourself.”

I laugh. “I said thank you once, that’s all you get. C’mon, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

He’s still muttering behind me as we push through the doors and head to the volunteer coordinator’s office. She goes over the visitation rules, specifically noting to make sure we sanitize before going into the playroom, and once she’s done, we walk back out into the hallway.

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