“She’s not always . . . I mean . . . she can be kind of troublesome.”
“Aspen, look at me.”
She raised her embarrassed gaze to meet his green one. “Do you really think I can’t handle your mother?”
“It’s not that.” She was pretty sure there wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. “I just feel like I should apologize in advance—”
He let out a loud sigh then shook his head. “If I hear you apologize to me one more time I’m going to have to find some way of silencing you.”
What did that mean? She opened her mouth to ask him then closed it, fairly certain she didn’t want to know. “Fine, so—” she caught his gaze. “I mean, I’ll stop.”
“Good. As to anything she says, it is not your concern.”
“She’s my mother.” How could it not be my concern?
“Meaning you’re responsible for her?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
He studied her for a moment. “I promise I won’t hold anything she says or does against you.”
“Sure.” She’d been burned too many times by her mother’s actions to believe that. As a child, she’d known better than to invite anyone home. She’d stopped trying to make friends with each move. It had been easier to keep to herself rather than have people ask too many questions about her home life. Or worse, get attached to someone then have to leave them behind.
“Aspen, come here.”
She found herself moving towards him before she even realized it. Damn, his voice held some power.
He grasped her chin, and warmth filled her. He stared into her eyes, and she stood frozen to the spot, completely mesmerized. She waited for him to say something.
“You look tired,” he murmured.
Boy, that was a letdown. She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I have twin six-month-old boys, I always look tired.”
He frowned slightly. Why did he look grumpy? Because she’d brought up her boys? They weren’t some dirty secret.
But he just brushed his thumb over her lips. They parted of their own volition.
“Such a pretty mouth.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t want you to worry, all right? I’ll get your mother to her work and I can handle anything she throws at me. I’m a big boy.”
Jesus, she hoped so.
Oh my God, where had that thought come from? She blushed bright red. Bad, Aspen.
Both eyebrows rose as he stared at her. “Hmm, what was that thought, I wonder?”
“Nothing.” She pulled back. “You’re right, I’m tired. I’m going to tidy up then go to bed. Thanks for driving Mom to work.” She couldn’t help but sneer as she said that last word.
“Do I want to know what sort of work it is?”
“No, you don’t.”
He nodded calmly and, to her surprise, didn’t question her any further about that. “How will she get home?”
“She has her ways. Or she’ll stay with a friend.”
“She stays out most of the night?”
She shrugged. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Although she fully expected that one day she’d get a visit from the cops to say her mother had drunk herself into a coma. Or worse.