Page 11 of Heart to Heart

I traced a fingertip over a thick curving scar running over his shoulder to end at the side of his neck. “This must have hurt so bad. Scar tissue can be painful even if the wound is healed. Turn around and let me see the rest. I bet I can help.”

With his eyes locked to mine, he remained frozen for a moment. Then he turned, breaking contact. His head dropped. “Yeah, it gets uncomfortable sometimes—” His voice broke off midsentence; he’d shut down. I sensed his vulnerability and found myself wanting to prove I was someone he could trust. Someone he could share his pain and insecurities with, someone safe.

Was he embarrassed?The thought filled my heart with almost unbearable tenderness.

My heart ached for him while my body grew overwhelmed with sensation from his nearness. I wanted to throw myself into his arms again but had no reason to do so. “Um, I have a few remedies I could use. Massage, essential oils, various creams... Will you let me try to help you?”

“Yeah, sure. Actually, I would love that.” His voice was rough—husky and deep. It sent a thrill down my spine.

The deep growl of his words and the thought of having my hands all over that broad, heavily muscled back of his almost did me in. Heat flooded my veins and I slammed my eyes shut against the rising tide of naughty mental images, alarmed because the sexy thoughts were now mingled with thoughts of holding him, healing him, chasing away all the things that kept him up at night. I cleared my throat as I tried to clear my brain. “Okay, good. When I get home, I’ll make a list of what I’ll need, then we can make a plan. Once I get settled, I’m going start doing massage therapy again at my shop.”

“I appreciate it, and anytime you’re available will work for me.” A smile worked its way through the uncertainty that had clouded his expression before and I returned it, thrilled that he was willing to let me help him.

“Okay,” I breathed. I wanted him to be comfortable with me. I wanted to be the one to make him feel better. The question ofwhydanced around in my thoughts, but I shoved it aside. He deserved this.

His body jolted suddenly, as if he had come to his senses or out of a spell. “God, Holly. Where are my manners? You’re shivering. Would you like a shower while I make breakfast? You weren’t kidding about being covered with mud.” He brushed a clump of muddy hair over my shoulder with a teasing wink. Charming Liam was back, and I was stunned that he could flip the switch so quickly. “I’ll loan you a T-shirt. In fact, I should grab one for myself too and wipe off this mud.” His cheeks flushed red above his beard as he ran a hand down his chest, drawing attention to each of the glorious, rippling muscles adorning his torso.

“I’m sorry I got you dirty.” I cleared my throat.Gah! Double entendre much?“So, a shower? Yes, please. I think I’m starting to get crusty. Like, I love a good mud bath, but stumbling into a puddle while scared out of my mind isn’t my preferred method,” I joked to cover my attraction to him. Flirting with him would be a bad idea.

“I bet.” His grin was irresistibly devastating. He confused me; I couldn’t tell if he was trying to flirt with me or if this was just his natural state and he’d found his way back into it. Or perhaps he really was insecure about his scars and covering it up with his seemingly ingrained flirtatious charm. I hadn’t spent enough time with him to know for sure. I couldn’t read him yet, but I wanted to.

I smiled without answering, unsure of how to respond without giving myself away. Even though I’d told him after our Valentine’s Day kiss that we could only be friends, it didn’t erase the attraction shimmering in the air between us.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He gestured for me to follow him down the hall. “There’s a stack of clean towels in the cupboard, and I’ll grab a shirt for you to put on after.”

“Thank you so much, Liam. I’m so lucky you were out tonight.” Good manners trumped all uncertainty, and I was glad to be back on sure footing again.

“Me too. You have no idea. Having you here is so much better than staring at the ceiling alone unable to sleep.” He left me in the bathroom as he continued down the hall to his bedroom.

I rummaged around for a towel, deciding to go with the flow. Tonight was weird and I’d chalk up any questions about his mood to that. Mine too, for that matter. “Can I help myself to your shampoo and stuff?” I called out.

“Yep.” He popped his head in and tossed me a faded black T-shirt. “Here you go. I’ll get the food started. Take your time.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’m gonna use up all your hot water.” I brandished the rolled-up T-shirt at him for emphasis. “And hey, I’m no help in the kitchen but I can do clean-up duty like a champ. So don’t do any dishes. I got that part covered.” Unfortunately, he was now wearing a shirt, otherwise I’d be eye-to-spectacular-pec level with him, damn it.

He reached up, grasping the frame of the doorway with a broad palm as he leaned forward with a smirk, dipping his head so we were now eye to eye. “I make no promises. My mom was a clean-as-you-go cook and that’s how I learned. I’m afraid it’s a habit now.”

I let out an exaggerated joking gasp. “Are you the perfect man, Liam? Rescuing distressed damsels in the middle of the night then cooking them a well-balanced breakfast once you get them back to your adorable woodsy lair?”

“Far from it.” He pushed back with a laugh and stepped into the hall. “Like I said before, what’s mine is yours. Use whatever you need.”

“Thanks...” I murmured to his retreating back as I tried to calm my racing heart.

Contrary to what I’d told Liam, I hurried through my shower, chagrined to realize I didn’t want to miss a moment with him tonight and a little bit freaked about how my tiny (massive) crush on him seemed to be growing bigger by the second. After tonight, I’d keep my distance. It was better for us both; I couldn’t get into a relationship when my life was such a mess. No one deserved to get sucked into that.

I pulled my undies on, not thrilled to be re-wearing them, but what else could I do? If I went out there commando I’d be far too tempted to crawl into his lap and go for a ride or do something else equally dumb and probably orgasmically awesome. I slipped into his T-shirt with a low moan. It smelled like laundry soap and him, it was old and soft as silk, and it went down almost to my knees. “I’m keeping this T-shirt,” I yelled into the hall as I opened the door. “What’s yours is mine, remember?” I teased.

He eyed me speculatively as I rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about it. I love that shirt. But you look so good wearing it, so I might just let you have it.”

“Think about it all you want. I can be stealthy when I need to be. Maybe I’ll just steal it.”

“Stealthy? Like tonight when you were sneaking through the forest oh-so quietly?”

“Ha. Touché, Liam.” I laughed and flopped into a barstool at the island counter. It smelled awesome in here. Like bacon and chocolate and everything homey and good in the world. My fears were carried away on steamy, yummy-smelling flavor clouds as I watched him move competently around his kitchen.

“I’m sorry. That was mean and probably too soon to joke about. Here, try this.” He slid a mug across the counter then carefully ladled in some hot chocolate from a steaming saucepan. “Let me make it up to you. As you requested, hot chocolate. Made from scratch, not a packet.”

“Ooooh. Aren’t you fancy.” He watched me avidly, lips quirked expectantly at the corner as I blew across the top of the steaming mug then took a sip. My eyebrows shot up. “It tastes like hot melted ice cream. Oh my god.” Screw my messed-up life. I should marry him right now and let him cook for me the rest of my life, preferably shirtless. Then later I could pantslessly thank him after I cleaned up his kitchen.

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