Page 49 of His Own Heaven

If he knew about Michael.

“Do I make you feel unsafe?” His brow was bent in an expression of concern mixed with genuine curiosity.

Lucy shook her head and offered him a small smile. A secret smile. “No.”

At no point during their weekend sex-fest had Toby done anything to make her think she’d be unsafe with him. Not once, from the moment he’d carried her out of the pub until he’d dropped her at her door, had she felt anything but protected by him. Not even when he was cross and telling her off for wanting to take an Uber. And she still wasn’t sure what the hell that had all been about.

What she did know was that it had been a long time since anyone had made her feel the way Toby had. She’d completely forgotten what it felt like to know someone else was watching over her, and she knew now she’d confused his concern with bullheadedness, which had made his dominance seem more like bullying. And after the shit she’d had to put up with towards the end of her last job—something else she had yet to discuss with Toby—she’d decided the best sex of her life wasn’t worth it and called it quits before it could go any further.

Before her heart could get involved.

But as he’d driven away from her, the crushing feeling in the centre of her chest, the one that had nearly brought her to her knees, had made her realise she was too late.

She more than liked him too.

Her heart was involved.

He leaned forwards. “I know I fucked up, Lucy. I’ve been alone most of my adult life, and I’m not used to having to explain myself to anyone.” He snorted. “Not even Charlie. But that’s no excuse for the way I spoke to you, and as much as I’d like to say it won’t happen again, I can’t make that promise. But I promise I’ll try.”

It wasn’t the greatest apology in history, but at least he was being candid.

Lucy studied Toby for a long minute, her eyes narrowed and one brow cocked, and decided she’d forgive him—depending on the answer to her next question.

“Why were you so insistent about driving me yesterday?”

Toby ran his tongue over his teeth and studied her in turn. “I was being selfish.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “And I didn’t want anyone to see you.”

A sudden chill sent goosebumps skittering over Lucy’s flesh, and the blood drained from her face so fast she felt faint. “You didn’t want anyone to see me,” she repeated slowly, her grip tightening on the arms of the chair as she digested each word individually, hoping she could string them together again in a way that didn’t sound so awful.

He didn’t want anyone to see her.

He didn’t want anyone to see the monster he’d fucked.

He was beginning to have more in common with her old boss than she’d ever thought possible. She’d forgiven him too quickly.

Lucy levered to her feet and locked her knees to stop them from wobbling. She kept her gaze glued to a point just above Toby’s head, knowing if she looked at him directly, she’d probably burst into tears. When was she going to learn her lesson? Rules were there for a reason. And every time she broke them, she got hurt.

“I’d really hoped there’d be more to it than you wanting to keep me as your dirty little secret,” she said, her voice brittle even to her ears.

“What?” Toby sounded confused, but he couldn’t possibly be. No one was that naïve.

She straightened her spine. “You didn’t want anyone to see me,” she said again, only this time her skin heated with anger and chased the chill from her blood until she positively boiled with rage. “Fuck you!”

Chapter Sixteen

Bewilderment was not something Toby had a lot of experience with, but since meeting Lucy Barton, he almost felt like he was on a first-name basis with the emotion. Usually it was a good thing, making him realise the things he craved in life were not only possible but very much within his grasp.

But not now. Because Lucy was glaring at him with the force of a thousand suns and looked like she was about to explode.

“Fuck you!” Her voice shook with rage, her words stained with hurt.

What the fuck?

This was why he liked plants.

They didn’t have messy emotions. Or talk. Or swear at him for no apparent reason. Why was she so upset? And how did he make it stop so they could get back to the place where she was smiling and he wasn’t feeling like a gigantic, clueless arsehole?

He clenched his jaw and stared at Lucy as his brain cycled through their conversation until, like a low-hanging branch, realisation slapped him in the face.

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