Savage Daddy, page 4
But now, she was standing here on his porch while he examined her hand, which he couldn’t see very well.
“Come inside.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll just clean this up and leave. I’ll, um, need to make you some more cookies. Sorry.”
“You made these?”
“Nooo,” she wailed, making him raise his eyebrows. “I just cut up a tube of raw cookie dough and stuck it in the oven. But I did set the timer on my phone and I made sure they didn’t burn.”
He wondered if she knew that she was staring up at him with a hopeful look on her face. One that asked for his approval.
“Well done,” he found himself murmuring.
She sent him a wide smile.
Was she like this all the time? Looking for approval, worried about pleasing people? How often did she get taken advantage of?
“You’re bleeding,” he told her quietly. “You need to come in so I can fix it up.”
“I’ll be fine. I can do it.”
“Little . . . “ He bit his words off. She wasn’t his Little girl.
“Inside. Now.” He made sure to make his voice commanding and she immediately obeyed.
Christ. Did she know how much that turned him on? And it shouldn’t. He was a terrible person. He probably needed to find a club. A sub to play with who knew the score. Not boss around his neighbor for a cheap thrill.
All right, so he wasn’t doing it for fun. He wasn’t that much of a bastard. The cut on her hand was bleeding, and he couldn’t be certain she’d care for it herself.
She’s a grown woman. She can look after herself.
Yeah, but tell that to the instincts screaming at him to fix her.
He led her into the kitchen, then lifted her onto the counter. She gave him a wide-eyed look as he gathered up some paper towels, folding them over before he pressed them to the gash on her hand.
“What about the kids? Did you leave them alone?” he demanded. They were too young to be left on their own.
She glanced over at their shared wall as though she could see them through it. “What? No. Of course I didn’t. My friend is with them. But I really should get back.” She started to wriggle her way off the counter, but he put his hands on her thighs.
“Stay where you are.”
She froze.
Okay, chill, before you completely terrify her.
Although, maybe then she’d steer clear of him.
“I want you to stay right there, all right?” He added the last two words on so it didn’t sound as much like an order. But that’s what it was.
“All right. But my hand is okay. Barely a scratch. Although I really should go clean up the mess. I don’t want anyone standing on it and hurting themselves.”
“Nobody is going to stand on it,” he told her. “Don’t move. I mean it. I won’t be happy if you do.”
“Okay,” she whispered quietly.
* * *
Whoa, he was demanding.
And it was sexy as hell. She didn’t know why, but a part of her melted whenever he gave her a command. Wanted to give him whatever he desired from her.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had fussed over her this much.
It was just a small scratch, nothing worth worrying over. And she was the one that made the mess. Which she really wanted to go clean up. She hated leaving it out there. How did he know that no one would step on it? What if it attracted rats?
Nope. She needed to clean it up so she wouldn’t worry about him having a rat infestation.
But he didn’t want her to get down. She chewed her lip.
“You okay?” He walked back into the room, carrying a First-Aid kit. Huh, for some reason, she hadn’t thought he’d be the type of guy to have a First-Aid kit. More like a few Band-Aids stuffed in a drawer somewhere.
“I’m worried about rats,” she blurted out.
“Rats? You have a rat problem?”
“No, but you might. Rats probably like cookies.”
“Ah.” He gave her a look like he thought she was crazy.
She probably was. Sleep deprivation, not enough food, and too much stress would turn anyone slightly nuts. Right?
Holding her hand, he wiped the cut gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up before the rats start invading.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
“I am,” he told her firmly.
He drew out a gauze pad, placing it over the scratch. Then he wrapped her hand with a bandage to hold it in place. Why did his touch feel so good? It wasn’t like it was sexual or intimate. He was simply bandaging her hand up.
Yet, her body felt like it was on fire. She found herself wanting to lean into him, wanting to breathe in his scent.
What would it feel like if he wrapped his arms around her? When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from someone? Someone who saw her as more than an aunty or wasn’t her best friend.
“I really think a Band-Aid would be fine,” she told him. “I’m going to look like I sliced half my hand off.”
“This will be better than a Band-Aid,” he told her. “You need to keep this on overnight, then check it tomorrow. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
It seemed a lot of bother for one smallish cut, though.
“Do you have more gauze? Some Band-Aids?”
“I live with three boys, I practically buy that stuff by the bucketload. And most of it goes on Buster.” She grinned. But he didn’t smile back and her smile dropped.
Damn. Tough audience.
“Uh, well, the dustpan and broom?” she asked hesitantly.
“Told you I’d clean it up.” He lifted her off the counter and led her out of the house. She tried to get a look around. The place seemed so bare in comparison to her half of the duplex, which was filled with clothes, toys, and photos.
His place just seemed so . . . barren.
“Well, that doesn’t seem very nice of me. I baked the cookies to say thanks for your help, then I make a mess, and you have to clean it up.”
By now, they’d reached the front door.
“It’s fine,” he told her. “And you don’t have to bake me cookies.”
“I’ll make you some more.”
“Really, don’t worry,” he replied.
“Oh, all right. I suppose I could try to make brownies. I’m not much of a baker, though. Or a cook. I nearly burned down the kitchen once trying to bake a potato.”
He gave her an alarmed look. Probably concerned about the fact that they shared a wall.
“But I’m much better than that now, don’t worry. I haven’t set a potato on fire in ages.”
Two months counted as ages, right?
“No brownies. No cookies. Got it?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded her head. “What can I do to say thank you, then?”
“Just say thank you,” he told her, opening the door. Then he frowned. “Wait here.”
Just say thank you?
Okay, but it didn’t seem like enough. When he returned, he held an old leather jacket in his hands.
“Turn around.”
She turned her back to him.
“Arms out.”
He slid the jacket over her arms.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to. It’s not like I’m going far.”
“Next time, wear a jacket. And gloves.”
“Well, I suppose the gloves might have been useful.”
He opened the door, then stepped over the mess before reaching for her and lifting her across.
She could have easily stepped over it herself, but she had to admit it was a darn romantic move.
Silly, Livvy. He isn’t interested in you like that. Probably just worried that you’ll slip or something and injure yourself again.
Still, she knew she’d be thinking about that later. Probably when she was in bed tonight.
Eek. What was wrong with her?
To her surprise, he started walking down the footpath.
“What are you doing?” she asked, moving after him.
“Walking you home.”
Aww, wasn’t that the sweetest?
“That’s so kind.”
Another grunt and a strange look.
Unless he was just making sure she went home and stopped bothering him. Crap, that was probably it. She was being annoying, and outstaying her welcome.
“Well, thank you, this is me,” she said when they reached her door.
Could you be any more of a doofus, Livvy?
“Which, of course, you know, since you live next door. Oh my God.” She turned to him, slapping her uninjured hand down on his chest. She stared at her hand in confusion. “How did that happen? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Yep, he definitely thought she was nuts now.
“No.”
“Oh, good. I just got excited because I remembered that I don’t know your name!”
“That made you excited?”
“Uh, well, sort of. What is your name?”
“Sav.”
“Sav? Like the wine?”
He blinked. “No, it’s short for Savage.”
“Savage? Wow, that’s an interesting name. Did you get that when you, uh, when you joined the gang? I mean, I guess they don’t give you names like Bob and Allan, right?”
For fuck’s sake, Livvy, will you stop talking?
“I suppose it could be worse. You could have been called Killer or something.”
“Killer was already taken,” he told her.
“What?” she said in a high voice.
“Name’s Aidan Savage,” he explained. “And I don’t belong to a gang. Why don’t you have a security light?”
Um . . . what?
She stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Security light?”
“Oh, uh, I’ve never had one. I think the last tenant put yours in.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Right, well, thanks for walking me home and for the bandage. And I’m sorry about the cookies.” She drew off the jacket, handing it to him.
He took it and kept watching her. What was he waiting for?
“Are you waiting for something?” He didn’t want a kiss or something, right?
Idiot, Livvy. Of course not. This isn’t a date. It would be a terrible date if it were.
Mind you, she’d been on worse.
Wow, that was pathetic.
“Yeah, for you to go inside.”
“Right. That’s what I’m going to do. Because this is my house. Good night!”
She opened the door, went inside, then leaned back against it, her legs shaking. Didn’t she find herself in this exact same position a few days ago?
That damn man managed to make her legs go weak.
“Oh, Livvy.”
She glanced up to see Ricky leaning against the wall opposite.
“You heard all that, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Were you listening at the door?”
“Yep.”
She groaned. “I’m a total dork, aren’t I?”
“Pretty much.”
She slumped onto the floor, shaking her head. “I heard myself talk and I just couldn’t stop the stuff coming out of my mouth. What’s wrong with me?”
He crouched next to her, gently taking her injured hand in his. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just a bit rusty when it comes to dating.”
“That wasn’t a date.”
“All right, when it comes to talking to guys, you’re rusty.”
“It’s just him. He messes up my brain, it doesn’t work right around him.”
“’Cause he’s so hot.” Ricky nodded sagely. “I get it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d probably be a blathering mess around him as well.”
She sighed in relief.
“What happened to your hand?”
“Cut it on the plate I dropped.” She cringed. “It’s a small cut. I better take this off before Ethan sees it, though, and starts worrying.” He stood and reached a hand down to her to help her up. They walked into the kitchen and she replaced the bandage and gauze with a digger Band-Aid.
“Where are Ethan and Buster?” she asked.
“Upstairs, in their room. I even got them in their pajamas.”
“You’re a miracle worker.”
“I am. I also bribed them.”
She rolled her eyes at him, then went upstairs to get the older two into bed. Fifteen minutes and several arguments later, she moved back downstairs and poured herself another glass of wine.
“I think you need to up your dating game,” Ricky told her.
“I have no dating game.” She hadn’t been on a date for close to a year.
“Exactly, so we need to get you back out there.”
“How? The only guys I talk to are the students or staff at work and you.”
And now Mr. Sexy and Mysterious. Only he wasn’t interested in her.
“Well, if only there was a way to find men who were looking to date. Hmm . . . let me think . . .”
“Oh shut up,” she told him. “I’m not going to go on an online dating site.”
“Why? Because your social life is full?”
“I just . . .” She bit her lip. “I have too much going on. And the boys to think about. And I’m just not ready.”
He reached out and placed his hand on hers. “Okay, but I just want to say this . . . not all guys are like Mike. They’re not all selfish assholes. Some of them are good.”
“I’m not sure I’d be able to find a guy who was willing to take on me and my kids.”
“There will be someone out there. But I won’t push you.”
She shot him a look.
“Tonight,” he added.
Yeah, that’s what she’d thought he meant.
4
Balancing Wyatt in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other, Livvy trudged toward her place.
Just keep moving. Just keep moving.
Her phone started ringing as she got close, but she knew she’d drop something if she tried to answer it. Ahead of her, the boys opened the door and ran into the house.
She couldn’t wait to get her car back. This was ridiculous. As she walked up footpath, the bag suddenly gave way, the contents spewing out onto the footpath.
Tears welled in her eyes.
This was it.
How much more could she be expected to take?
It’s all right. Don’t cry. It’s just a few groceries on the ground. It’s not that bad.
Crouching, she tried to grab the oranges that had decided to go in different directions. Wyatt let out a worried noise, holding onto her tight.
“It’s okay, honey, Livvy just needs to pick this up, then we can go inside.”
And she could start the process of dinner and homework and bed.
Lord, she was so weary. Sometimes she thought she could sleep for a week and still be tired.
She managed to get everything in a pile, only she was missing a couple of oranges. Where were they?
She searched the ground closer to the fence.
“Need some help?” a gruff voice asked.
Standing with a gasp, she drew Wyatt in close before she saw Sav standing on the other side of the fence staring down at her.
He eyed her strangely. Probably thought she was losing her mind.
“Oranges,” she blurted out.
“Oranges?” he repeated with a quirked eyebrow. “Makes perfect sense.”
She huffed out a breath. “My bag of groceries broke and I’m missing a few oranges. Doesn’t matter.”
Actually, it kind of did. And she still felt the urge to cry. But she wasn’t going to show any of that to Sav. She already felt like she’d inconvenienced him enough.
He looked at her, then over to the groceries still piled in the footpath.
Something moved through his face. A look of understanding. Maybe a bit of pity.
Awesome.
“Why don’t you take the kid inside where it’s warm? Grab a bag and bring it out.”
“Wyatt,” she told him.
“What?”
“His name is Wyatt. And he doesn’t really like being put down when he’s tired.” Well, he wasn’t fond of being put down most of the time, but he was even less tolerant when he was tired.
Why are you telling him all this, Livvy? He doesn’t care about whether Wyatt wants to be held or not.
“I just . . . I’ll go get that bag.” Feeling her shoulders slumping, she turned and headed inside the small duplex.
Life kept kicking her.
Come on, Livvy. It’s not that bad. You have a roof over your head. Food on the table, minus a few silly oranges. Everyone is healthy.
After her little pep talk, she felt much better as she headed back outside with a bag.
To her surprise, Sav was still there. She’d kind of thought he’d head into his place. He held out his hand and she stared at him in surprise. Did he want her to give him Wyatt?
“Give me the bag.”
Oh, the bag . . . yeah, that made much more sense. She handed it over without a word, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
Crouching, he started putting her groceries in the bag.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him.
“Gonna be hard for you to do it while holding the kid.”
“Wyatt,” she said quietly.
He just grunted, then stood and glanced around. Moving to a bush next to her side of the fence, he reached under and pulled out two oranges. That’s where they went.
It was ridiculous, but she felt so happy.
What was wrong with her? She was emotional over oranges.
“Thank you,” she told him gratefully as he returned.
“I’ll carry them in for you.”
She turned and hurried toward the door.
“You didn’t get a loaner?”
A loaner?
“For my car? No.” That hadn’t even been an option. “My insurance wouldn’t cover that.”
He frowned. “How are you getting around then?”
“The bus.”
His scowl deepened. “That’s hardly safe.”
“Lots of people take the bus, and they’re just fine. It’s sweet of you to worry, though.”
“Come inside.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I’ll just clean this up and leave. I’ll, um, need to make you some more cookies. Sorry.”
“You made these?”
“Nooo,” she wailed, making him raise his eyebrows. “I just cut up a tube of raw cookie dough and stuck it in the oven. But I did set the timer on my phone and I made sure they didn’t burn.”
He wondered if she knew that she was staring up at him with a hopeful look on her face. One that asked for his approval.
“Well done,” he found himself murmuring.
She sent him a wide smile.
Was she like this all the time? Looking for approval, worried about pleasing people? How often did she get taken advantage of?
“You’re bleeding,” he told her quietly. “You need to come in so I can fix it up.”
“I’ll be fine. I can do it.”
“Little . . . “ He bit his words off. She wasn’t his Little girl.
“Inside. Now.” He made sure to make his voice commanding and she immediately obeyed.
Christ. Did she know how much that turned him on? And it shouldn’t. He was a terrible person. He probably needed to find a club. A sub to play with who knew the score. Not boss around his neighbor for a cheap thrill.
All right, so he wasn’t doing it for fun. He wasn’t that much of a bastard. The cut on her hand was bleeding, and he couldn’t be certain she’d care for it herself.
She’s a grown woman. She can look after herself.
Yeah, but tell that to the instincts screaming at him to fix her.
He led her into the kitchen, then lifted her onto the counter. She gave him a wide-eyed look as he gathered up some paper towels, folding them over before he pressed them to the gash on her hand.
“What about the kids? Did you leave them alone?” he demanded. They were too young to be left on their own.
She glanced over at their shared wall as though she could see them through it. “What? No. Of course I didn’t. My friend is with them. But I really should get back.” She started to wriggle her way off the counter, but he put his hands on her thighs.
“Stay where you are.”
She froze.
Okay, chill, before you completely terrify her.
Although, maybe then she’d steer clear of him.
“I want you to stay right there, all right?” He added the last two words on so it didn’t sound as much like an order. But that’s what it was.
“All right. But my hand is okay. Barely a scratch. Although I really should go clean up the mess. I don’t want anyone standing on it and hurting themselves.”
“Nobody is going to stand on it,” he told her. “Don’t move. I mean it. I won’t be happy if you do.”
“Okay,” she whispered quietly.
* * *
Whoa, he was demanding.
And it was sexy as hell. She didn’t know why, but a part of her melted whenever he gave her a command. Wanted to give him whatever he desired from her.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had fussed over her this much.
It was just a small scratch, nothing worth worrying over. And she was the one that made the mess. Which she really wanted to go clean up. She hated leaving it out there. How did he know that no one would step on it? What if it attracted rats?
Nope. She needed to clean it up so she wouldn’t worry about him having a rat infestation.
But he didn’t want her to get down. She chewed her lip.
“You okay?” He walked back into the room, carrying a First-Aid kit. Huh, for some reason, she hadn’t thought he’d be the type of guy to have a First-Aid kit. More like a few Band-Aids stuffed in a drawer somewhere.
“I’m worried about rats,” she blurted out.
“Rats? You have a rat problem?”
“No, but you might. Rats probably like cookies.”
“Ah.” He gave her a look like he thought she was crazy.
She probably was. Sleep deprivation, not enough food, and too much stress would turn anyone slightly nuts. Right?
Holding her hand, he wiped the cut gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up before the rats start invading.”
“All right, if you’re sure.”
“I am,” he told her firmly.
He drew out a gauze pad, placing it over the scratch. Then he wrapped her hand with a bandage to hold it in place. Why did his touch feel so good? It wasn’t like it was sexual or intimate. He was simply bandaging her hand up.
Yet, her body felt like it was on fire. She found herself wanting to lean into him, wanting to breathe in his scent.
What would it feel like if he wrapped his arms around her? When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from someone? Someone who saw her as more than an aunty or wasn’t her best friend.
“I really think a Band-Aid would be fine,” she told him. “I’m going to look like I sliced half my hand off.”
“This will be better than a Band-Aid,” he told her. “You need to keep this on overnight, then check it tomorrow. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
It seemed a lot of bother for one smallish cut, though.
“Do you have more gauze? Some Band-Aids?”
“I live with three boys, I practically buy that stuff by the bucketload. And most of it goes on Buster.” She grinned. But he didn’t smile back and her smile dropped.
Damn. Tough audience.
“Uh, well, the dustpan and broom?” she asked hesitantly.
“Told you I’d clean it up.” He lifted her off the counter and led her out of the house. She tried to get a look around. The place seemed so bare in comparison to her half of the duplex, which was filled with clothes, toys, and photos.
His place just seemed so . . . barren.
“Well, that doesn’t seem very nice of me. I baked the cookies to say thanks for your help, then I make a mess, and you have to clean it up.”
By now, they’d reached the front door.
“It’s fine,” he told her. “And you don’t have to bake me cookies.”
“I’ll make you some more.”
“Really, don’t worry,” he replied.
“Oh, all right. I suppose I could try to make brownies. I’m not much of a baker, though. Or a cook. I nearly burned down the kitchen once trying to bake a potato.”
He gave her an alarmed look. Probably concerned about the fact that they shared a wall.
“But I’m much better than that now, don’t worry. I haven’t set a potato on fire in ages.”
Two months counted as ages, right?
“No brownies. No cookies. Got it?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded her head. “What can I do to say thank you, then?”
“Just say thank you,” he told her, opening the door. Then he frowned. “Wait here.”
Just say thank you?
Okay, but it didn’t seem like enough. When he returned, he held an old leather jacket in his hands.
“Turn around.”
She turned her back to him.
“Arms out.”
He slid the jacket over her arms.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to. It’s not like I’m going far.”
“Next time, wear a jacket. And gloves.”
“Well, I suppose the gloves might have been useful.”
He opened the door, then stepped over the mess before reaching for her and lifting her across.
She could have easily stepped over it herself, but she had to admit it was a darn romantic move.
Silly, Livvy. He isn’t interested in you like that. Probably just worried that you’ll slip or something and injure yourself again.
Still, she knew she’d be thinking about that later. Probably when she was in bed tonight.
Eek. What was wrong with her?
To her surprise, he started walking down the footpath.
“What are you doing?” she asked, moving after him.
“Walking you home.”
Aww, wasn’t that the sweetest?
“That’s so kind.”
Another grunt and a strange look.
Unless he was just making sure she went home and stopped bothering him. Crap, that was probably it. She was being annoying, and outstaying her welcome.
“Well, thank you, this is me,” she said when they reached her door.
Could you be any more of a doofus, Livvy?
“Which, of course, you know, since you live next door. Oh my God.” She turned to him, slapping her uninjured hand down on his chest. She stared at her hand in confusion. “How did that happen? I’m so sorry, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Yep, he definitely thought she was nuts now.
“No.”
“Oh, good. I just got excited because I remembered that I don’t know your name!”
“That made you excited?”
“Uh, well, sort of. What is your name?”
“Sav.”
“Sav? Like the wine?”
He blinked. “No, it’s short for Savage.”
“Savage? Wow, that’s an interesting name. Did you get that when you, uh, when you joined the gang? I mean, I guess they don’t give you names like Bob and Allan, right?”
For fuck’s sake, Livvy, will you stop talking?
“I suppose it could be worse. You could have been called Killer or something.”
“Killer was already taken,” he told her.
“What?” she said in a high voice.
“Name’s Aidan Savage,” he explained. “And I don’t belong to a gang. Why don’t you have a security light?”
Um . . . what?
She stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Security light?”
“Oh, uh, I’ve never had one. I think the last tenant put yours in.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Right, well, thanks for walking me home and for the bandage. And I’m sorry about the cookies.” She drew off the jacket, handing it to him.
He took it and kept watching her. What was he waiting for?
“Are you waiting for something?” He didn’t want a kiss or something, right?
Idiot, Livvy. Of course not. This isn’t a date. It would be a terrible date if it were.
Mind you, she’d been on worse.
Wow, that was pathetic.
“Yeah, for you to go inside.”
“Right. That’s what I’m going to do. Because this is my house. Good night!”
She opened the door, went inside, then leaned back against it, her legs shaking. Didn’t she find herself in this exact same position a few days ago?
That damn man managed to make her legs go weak.
“Oh, Livvy.”
She glanced up to see Ricky leaning against the wall opposite.
“You heard all that, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Were you listening at the door?”
“Yep.”
She groaned. “I’m a total dork, aren’t I?”
“Pretty much.”
She slumped onto the floor, shaking her head. “I heard myself talk and I just couldn’t stop the stuff coming out of my mouth. What’s wrong with me?”
He crouched next to her, gently taking her injured hand in his. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just a bit rusty when it comes to dating.”
“That wasn’t a date.”
“All right, when it comes to talking to guys, you’re rusty.”
“It’s just him. He messes up my brain, it doesn’t work right around him.”
“’Cause he’s so hot.” Ricky nodded sagely. “I get it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d probably be a blathering mess around him as well.”
She sighed in relief.
“What happened to your hand?”
“Cut it on the plate I dropped.” She cringed. “It’s a small cut. I better take this off before Ethan sees it, though, and starts worrying.” He stood and reached a hand down to her to help her up. They walked into the kitchen and she replaced the bandage and gauze with a digger Band-Aid.
“Where are Ethan and Buster?” she asked.
“Upstairs, in their room. I even got them in their pajamas.”
“You’re a miracle worker.”
“I am. I also bribed them.”
She rolled her eyes at him, then went upstairs to get the older two into bed. Fifteen minutes and several arguments later, she moved back downstairs and poured herself another glass of wine.
“I think you need to up your dating game,” Ricky told her.
“I have no dating game.” She hadn’t been on a date for close to a year.
“Exactly, so we need to get you back out there.”
“How? The only guys I talk to are the students or staff at work and you.”
And now Mr. Sexy and Mysterious. Only he wasn’t interested in her.
“Well, if only there was a way to find men who were looking to date. Hmm . . . let me think . . .”
“Oh shut up,” she told him. “I’m not going to go on an online dating site.”
“Why? Because your social life is full?”
“I just . . .” She bit her lip. “I have too much going on. And the boys to think about. And I’m just not ready.”
He reached out and placed his hand on hers. “Okay, but I just want to say this . . . not all guys are like Mike. They’re not all selfish assholes. Some of them are good.”
“I’m not sure I’d be able to find a guy who was willing to take on me and my kids.”
“There will be someone out there. But I won’t push you.”
She shot him a look.
“Tonight,” he added.
Yeah, that’s what she’d thought he meant.
4
Balancing Wyatt in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other, Livvy trudged toward her place.
Just keep moving. Just keep moving.
Her phone started ringing as she got close, but she knew she’d drop something if she tried to answer it. Ahead of her, the boys opened the door and ran into the house.
She couldn’t wait to get her car back. This was ridiculous. As she walked up footpath, the bag suddenly gave way, the contents spewing out onto the footpath.
Tears welled in her eyes.
This was it.
How much more could she be expected to take?
It’s all right. Don’t cry. It’s just a few groceries on the ground. It’s not that bad.
Crouching, she tried to grab the oranges that had decided to go in different directions. Wyatt let out a worried noise, holding onto her tight.
“It’s okay, honey, Livvy just needs to pick this up, then we can go inside.”
And she could start the process of dinner and homework and bed.
Lord, she was so weary. Sometimes she thought she could sleep for a week and still be tired.
She managed to get everything in a pile, only she was missing a couple of oranges. Where were they?
She searched the ground closer to the fence.
“Need some help?” a gruff voice asked.
Standing with a gasp, she drew Wyatt in close before she saw Sav standing on the other side of the fence staring down at her.
He eyed her strangely. Probably thought she was losing her mind.
“Oranges,” she blurted out.
“Oranges?” he repeated with a quirked eyebrow. “Makes perfect sense.”
She huffed out a breath. “My bag of groceries broke and I’m missing a few oranges. Doesn’t matter.”
Actually, it kind of did. And she still felt the urge to cry. But she wasn’t going to show any of that to Sav. She already felt like she’d inconvenienced him enough.
He looked at her, then over to the groceries still piled in the footpath.
Something moved through his face. A look of understanding. Maybe a bit of pity.
Awesome.
“Why don’t you take the kid inside where it’s warm? Grab a bag and bring it out.”
“Wyatt,” she told him.
“What?”
“His name is Wyatt. And he doesn’t really like being put down when he’s tired.” Well, he wasn’t fond of being put down most of the time, but he was even less tolerant when he was tired.
Why are you telling him all this, Livvy? He doesn’t care about whether Wyatt wants to be held or not.
“I just . . . I’ll go get that bag.” Feeling her shoulders slumping, she turned and headed inside the small duplex.
Life kept kicking her.
Come on, Livvy. It’s not that bad. You have a roof over your head. Food on the table, minus a few silly oranges. Everyone is healthy.
After her little pep talk, she felt much better as she headed back outside with a bag.
To her surprise, Sav was still there. She’d kind of thought he’d head into his place. He held out his hand and she stared at him in surprise. Did he want her to give him Wyatt?
“Give me the bag.”
Oh, the bag . . . yeah, that made much more sense. She handed it over without a word, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
Crouching, he started putting her groceries in the bag.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him.
“Gonna be hard for you to do it while holding the kid.”
“Wyatt,” she said quietly.
He just grunted, then stood and glanced around. Moving to a bush next to her side of the fence, he reached under and pulled out two oranges. That’s where they went.
It was ridiculous, but she felt so happy.
What was wrong with her? She was emotional over oranges.
“Thank you,” she told him gratefully as he returned.
“I’ll carry them in for you.”
She turned and hurried toward the door.
“You didn’t get a loaner?”
A loaner?
“For my car? No.” That hadn’t even been an option. “My insurance wouldn’t cover that.”
He frowned. “How are you getting around then?”
“The bus.”
His scowl deepened. “That’s hardly safe.”
“Lots of people take the bus, and they’re just fine. It’s sweet of you to worry, though.”
