Page 41 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
“Red—”
But before I get more than that out, there’s a knock on Faye’s window.
Fourteen
Faye
I gasp, hand coming to my throat, banging my elbow against the door a second time.
This time, already sore, already open and raw and completely confused (and also scared that if I let go, even a little bit, give in to this fantasy, that I’ll lose myself…and end up alone—only this time with a broken heart) a gasp of pain escapes me.
“Fucking hell,” Gray mutters, shoving open his door and unfolding his big, strong frame from the car. “Smitty, you scared her.”
His tone is deadly, and even not directed at me, a shiver skates down my spine.
Then I’m cradling my splinted arm, watching, soaking up his graceful movements as he storms around the hood of the car, moves to the big, bearded man who knocked on my window, plants a hand in the middle of his chest, and shoves him back.
Hard enough that the big, bearded man who’s several inches taller and definitely quite a few pounds heavier (this being from his strongly muscled frame) goes back on a foot.
Then straightens, his face going stony.
“What the fuck, Smitty?” Gray growls, apparently not worried in the least about the expression on the other man’s—apparently Smitty’s—face.
“Dude,” Smitty says and it’s so loud that I jump again. “Chill.”
“Keep your voice down.” Gray’s gaze slices to me. “You’re still scaring her.”
Smitty’s head whips my direction and his expression goes blank for a moment, something flickering through his eyes. But his voice is softer, almost gentle when he dips his chin my direction and says, “Sorry.”
“Great,” Gray mutters. “Apology accepted. Now back up. Faye needs to get inside so she can rest.”
Smitty nods again and retreats a few paces, giving Gray enough space to open my door. “You good?” he asks softly as he reaches over me and unbuckles my seat belt.
Good?
He’s reaching over me, his fingers at my hip, his spicy male scent in my nose?
I’m firmly in fantasy land.
And I don’t think I’m going to be strong enough to leave it any time soon.
He helps me out, starts leading me up the driveway and toward his front door without preamble…like formal introductions. “The asshole is nosy and gossips like an old granny?—“
“Make that plural. As in grannies,” Smitty says and though it’s slid in the category of speaking rather than yelling, it’s definitely still much louder than a normal person would speak, thus, I jump again.
Which makes Gray scowl, also again.
Or maybe he’s glowering because when I turn around I see there’s not one big, bearded man behind me, but four.
Umm…
Before Gray or I can say anything, a hand appears from behind Smitty, pressing into his side, and though it’s a delicate, feminine hand, one that seems almost breakable, the light touch it gives shifts him effortlessly.
Like the woman who’s appeared behind him is parting the Red Sea.
“Hi, Faye,” she says as softly as Smitty spoke loudly, “I’m Kailey.”
We make our introductions and she smiles. It’s sweet, so sweet I know why the big, bearded man adores her. It’s clear in the way he looks at her, how he loops an arm around her waist, drawing her into his side, how he presses his lips to the top of her head.
