Page 48 of Hell of a Mess
He had no idea what a big deal that had been for me.
He shook his head. “That’s not enough, Lace.” Thedisappointment in his tone made me wish I could go back and eat more. “How am I going to let you move to Mal’s if you’re not eating?”
Move to Mal’s? What? I didn’t want to move. I didn’t know Mal.
“I don’t…” I started to tell him that, but I stopped because maybe he wanted me to go.
He was ready to hand me off to the man who was my father. I sat up, wincing as I did so from the sudden movement. How did I get him to let me stay here?
“Easy,” he said gruffly, noticing my wince.
“I don’t know Mal,” I told him.
“Yeah, but you need to get to know him.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I want to stay here.”With you. “I can help Jayda. I can cook, and I can clean.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Sure, you can with cracked ribs and a fractured wrist. Besides I’m not letting you work at this house. You’re a Bowen, for God’s sake.”
That sounded so odd. I’d been a Halsten, and I had hated it, just as I had come to hate the man who carried that last name.
“I don’t want to leave.” I stopped when my voice cracked, and a tear slid down my cheek.
“Lace,” he said, “look at me.”
It was instinct to obey him, but I didn’t want him to see me crying. I shook my head and tried to wipe the tears without him seeing what I was doing.
“Are you crying?” he asked as his fingers curled around my upper arm and tugged me toward him.
He leaned forward so that he could see my face. I tried to turn the other way, but he pulled me closer to him, into his earthy scent mingled with leather and smoke. I inhaled deeply, loving that smell.
“Why are you crying?” he asked me.
Oh, because I’m a baby. One you want to get rid of, and I am giving you more reason to do it.
I shrugged, not trusting my voice to speak.
“Dammit, Lace. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes and met his. There was concern there, but I also saw regret.
“You want to stay here?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You’re crying because you don’t want to go?”
I nodded again.
He blew out a breath. “Fuck,” he muttered, then let go of my arm. “What am I going to do with you? Mal doesn’t want you here—with me specifically.”
I didn’t care what Mal wanted. “Why?” I asked.
He smirked. “I’m not a good man, sugar. I’m actually the last man anyone would trust to take care of someone.”
“You are good,” I argued. “You saved me.”
He rubbed his face with both hands and groaned, then laid his head back against the tall headboard. “Yeah, well, that was a onetime thing. A first for me. But you were a female who was hurt. And you looked so damn broken and helpless.”
