Page 23 of Branded
Had probably worn the same expression he now wore more times than I could count.
Because what was on his face was what I’d felt in my gut so often.
So fucking often that I stopped.
So fucking often that I stepped into that empty—save one Conner Smith—room and sucked in a breath.
“Just fucking do it,” he gritted.
My heart began to pound, clunking against my rib cage, palms going sweaty, knees practically knocking together.
But…somehow the words came.
“Can I help you?”
“Just fucking—” The sentence skidded to a halt, his mouth dropping open, eyes flying up to mine. “Kailey?” he whispered.
Oh boy, what was I doing?
It was a lot harder to actually look into his deep brown eyes, to be in front of him offering help, knowing that was counterintuitive to everything I’d been preaching to myself in my head since he’d first approached me.
But…I couldn’t just walk by.
Couldn’t leave him with frustration etched on his face, mixing with sad, with fury, with…old pain.
“I—”
My throat closed up. That ball of anxiety began expanding in my gut, clawing its way up my torso, digging its talons into my lungs, my neck, my tongue.
It took everything in me to remain in place and just breathe.
And as everything else inside of me spun like a tornado, I was just standing there. Staring at him.
If I’d seen one glimpse of impatience, I would have shut down, would have lost it and run. But there wasn’t any impatience. Just deep brown eyes on mine, searching my gaze for answers, waiting for me to speak.
My heart skipped a beat, but this time it wasn’t anxiety-induced.
It was…
Smitty.
Chocolate eyes. Thick beard. A scar through his right eyebrow. Gentle all over his face.
I tried again. “I…”
And still he waited.
And…somehow, that made it okay. “I’m sorry to intrude,” I said softly. “I just…did you need any help—” Something warm entered his eyes, and I found myself unable to hold them, my gaze dropping to his lap (and not to the shadows concealing what I hoped was a monster dick this time).
Monster dick?
Christ, I was losing my mind.
Swallowing hard, I managed to press on. “I just”—another breath—“I’m good with computers and can help if…”
That was the end of my words. I just ran out of steam. Eyes flicking up, I braced.
But Smitty didn’t snap at me.
