Page 77 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

She got up and went back to the bathroom. Taking off her wet bra and panties, she put back on her T-shirt and sweats and gathered up all their clothes, taking them into the laundry room to start a load.

Once she’d finished turning on the washer, she grabbed everything she needed and went back to Mike’s room.

He seemed to be asleep, with his mouth open and deep, even breaths escaping harshly. Smalls had managed to jump up and was now stretched out across his legs, not even bothering to lift his head as Ellie approached.

Sitting down next to him on the bed, she set the Advil and water bottle on his nightstand and then opened the first aid kit. She got the Neosporin out and set the kit on the ground. As she picked up the first hand and dabbed the cream onto his knuckles gently, she watched his face knot up and then relax. He hardly stirred as she applied the salve, and when she was finished, she hovered over him, warmth spreading through her as she smi

led down at him.

Brushing her fingers over his forehead, she wanted to say so many things to him, but was too afraid that he might wake up and hear her. It was the first time in her life she’d ever taken care of a man for any reason, and she had to admit that she kind of liked it.

It made her feel needed, close to someone. It was something she had been missing without even realizing it and just the realization that she didn’t want to leave him kept her there, holding his hand in hers.

Then another surprise occurred to her. Despite reservations, she had fallen for Mike Stevens. And there was nothing she could do to fix it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mike woke up slowly and grumbled at the loud banging coming from his front door. As he opened his gritty eyes, he winced at the bright sunlight and tried to bring the blanket up over his head, but something was pinning it down.

He reached out and his hand rested on a supple waist. Blinking past the pain, he found that it was Ellie, curled on top of the covers against him. Her dark hair was a snarled mess and there were circles under her eyes. Flashes of him calling her rushed through his mind just as he heard the front door open.

Smalls bounded off the bed in a clumsy leap, barking up a storm until he heard a stern woman’s voice say, “Hush.”

Shit. It was his mother.

Climbing out the other side, he realized he was buck-ass-naked and grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser, hopping from foot to foot as he tried to beat the clickety-clack of her church heels.

He got the boxers in place just in time to race through his bedroom door and shut it behind him. He met her coming down the hall. “Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?”

Barbara Stevens’s brown hair was swept up in a bun, and her pink dress sleeveless and pressed. She swept him from head to toe with her critical gaze and pressed her lips together. “You weren’t in church and I was worried about you. Are you sick?”

“No, just had a late night,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Where’s Dad?”

“Waiting in the car.” She still hadn’t lost that pinched look and finally asked, “What did you do to your hair?”

“I donated it to charity,” he said.

“Do you always have to be so rude and sarcastic? I hardly ever see you except Sundays and holidays, and when I do, you treat me as if I have a tail!”

His mother’s voice shook and although he knew she was probably just playing him, it didn’t make her words any less true. His parents were great, but as he’d gotten older his mother had become more overbearing and nosy, and it drove him crazy.

“I just wanted a change, that’s it,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll get used to it, although you look a bit like a character from Sons of Anarchy.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “You watch Sons of Anarchy?”

“Yes, Michael, your mother is an actual human being with interests outside of worrying about her son.” Glancing past his shoulder, she asked, “Do you have company, or is there another reason you are guarding your door like a pit bull?”

“Thanks for stopping by, Mom, but as you can see, I’m alive.” Mike took a few steps forward, and placed his hand on the small of her back.

“You don’t need to shove me,” his mother snapped.

“I’m not shoving you!”

Mike heard the crack of a door behind him and they both turned to find Ellie standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just need to pee,” she said.

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