Page 51 of Protected from Malice
Because I’m really not a good cook. At all.
But Rafe? He is.
And whew. Watching Rafe cook might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen—his gaze all intense while he measured ingredients, his biceps flexing as he chopped and stirred, even his forearms looking hot and muscly with those veins popping out and his intricate tattoos rippling. And then the little smiles he’d throw me, almost shy, like he didn’t want me to know how much he was enjoying himself.
I’ve seen Rafe cook before, back when he’d come to visit with Indy. But I was always afraid of being caught out, so I tried notto look at him too much. I didn’t want Indy to think I was openly ogling his best friend.
But in a more intimate setting… I stole glances. I ogled when Rafe wasn’t looking. And I let myself fall into the wistful fantasy that we were just an ordinary couple, cooking together. Not staying in a hotel for my protection, but rather, enjoying a vacation.
No, I haven’t been with anyone since that night. It hasn’t even been a consideration. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t. It just means there hasn’t been anyone I wanted to consider it with. No one who even roused my interest.
Except that’s not entirely true. Thereisone person. He just wasn’t here. And he wasn’t an option.
He’sstillnot an option.
Not Rafe, who’s only ever seen me as Indy’s sister. As a friend.
Just because I felt something more when he hugged me doesn’t mean he did. And just because my heart erupted into frantic flutters when he held my hand doesn’t mean it meant anything other than comfort to him.
Although…
There were a few moments when I wondered. Like when he touched my hair so gently. When I thought his lips brushed the top of my head. When he hugged me and I felt his heart racing just as fast as mine.
If things were different, maybe I’d brave making a move. Maybe the next time we hugged, I’d kiss his bristly jaw. Maybe I’d snuggle beside him while we watched TV instead of being careful not to crowd him.
It’s ironic, really. Rafe’s so worried about his touch triggering me when in reality, it’s the one thing I want.
But hugs and wistful fantasies aside, I wish I could go back to our shared time together. When it was just us, teasing each otherand laughing about yo-yoing and making bets about who could get a frog to jump further. When I could forget, just for a while, the real reason I’m here.
But three hours later, it’s impossible to ignore it.
Not with five men prowling around the hotel suite, making it feel ten times smaller. Not with the tension so thick it’s hard to breathe through it.
And definitely not with this meeting looming—the meeting when we have to talk about all the crappiness that’s happened to me all over again.
Something else that’s not awesome? Seeing the mixture of hurt and suspicion in Indy’s eyes whenever he looks at me. Knowing that he’s already feeling betrayed that I didn’t tell him about the events of the last month but called his best friend for help instead.
I understand why he’s upset. I’m just not sure how to explainwhywithout hurting him again.
It’s not that I’m unhappy to see Indy. I’m not.
He’s my brother. I love him. Of course I want him here. And it’s a relief seeing him away from his sad apartment in Silver Springs, with the barren walls and gray furniture and all his decorations and photos still packed into boxes, just where they’ve been since the day he moved in.
It’s a relief to see emotions on his face other than depression and apathy.
It’s a relief to see a flicker of the old Indy; the one who liked to tease his friends and throw things at them when they weren’t looking. But I forgot how crazy their reflexes are, because even though Ace’s back was turned when Indy threw the pen at him, Ace somehow knew and snatched it out of the air before it could hit him.
And it was such a relief to hug him. To know that my big brother was here, that he knew, that I didn’t have to keep this huge thing a secret anymore.
Well, he knows most of it, at least.
He knows everything that’s happened over the last month. But two years ago? The thing that’ll upset him more than anything else? No. I haven’t had the chance to tell him.
Lie. I could have pulled him aside an hour and a half ago, right after he got here. After he punched Rafe’s arm with his prosthetic hand—I know he chose that one because it would hurt more—but then gave him one of those manly half hug-half shoulder clap things and said it was good to see him.
That was another relief. That I hadn’t messed up the friendship between Indy and Rafe.
So I wasn’t overly eager to jump in and interrupt them. And then the rest of the guys started trickling in; first Tyler, who only had to take a short flight from his place in Freshwater, California. Then Ace, who hopped the first flight from Houston this morning, and finally Webb, who had to make the cross-country trip from New York.
