He braced his hands on the arms of her chair but stayed on his knee in front of her, like some knight ready to declare his loyalty to the queen. “Look, I’m already dealing with Colby treating me like I’m still a kid half the time. Honestly, if last night hadn’t happened, I don’t care how mean he would’ve gotten at the motel, I wouldn’t have come back home with him. I don’t need or want another parent. But last night showed me that he’s capable of seeing me as an adult. So I’m giving this a shot for a few days, even though I know he’s going to slip up and treat me like I’m still sixteen at times. But I definitely don’t want to leave that every morning and come over here for more eggshell walking.”
She let out a long breath. Could she do this without the formal walls and lines marking the boundaries? The formality and control were what she’d hoped would get her through the anxiety of having someone in her space.
“Okay,” she said finally and met his eyes. “No faking. This doesn’t have to be formal. But if at any time, you feel like this isn’t working or you feel awkward or uncomfortable, you tell me. No hard feelings.”
His lips curved. “Deal. And if I suck as an assistant, you fire my ass. Also, for the record, I’m exceptionally hard to make uncomfortable. Just so you know.”
She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Colby makes you uncomfortable.”
“Colby makes me crazy. There’s a difference.” He stood and went back to his spot on the couch. “And it’s only because we have history.”
“Beyond being teacher/student?”
A little color came to his face. “Nothing like . . . inappropriate or whatever. I just—I was a fucked-up kid, and Colby was the only person I could turn to back then. The only one who gave a shit about me. When I ran away from home, I left Colby with a lot of rumors and crap to deal with. It was a dick move on my part. But somehow, Colby thinks it was all his fault. I can’t seem to get that dumb idea out of his head. I think all of this right now is some self-imposed penance or something.”
“Or maybe he just cares.”
He sniffed. “He’d be stupid to waste that concern on me. But if me sticking around for a while makes him feel better about it, then I’ll do it. I owe him more than I could ever pay back already. I let him think I was dead, and he blamed himself. I didn’t realize he’d do that, but looking back, it was a fucking cruel thing to do to the one person who’d tried to help me.”
Her throat tightened at the thought. She was still getting to know Colby, but even through casual, neighborly conversations, she could tell that his students were everything to him. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been on him back then—the young teacher losing a favorite student, one he’d tried to help.
“You do owe him,” she agreed. “And I have a feeling it’s going to take more than hanging out at his house for a few weeks to pay off that debt.” She stood and grabbed a blank notebook off the coffee table. She tossed it to Keats. “Start writing down any job experiences you’ve had and any relevant skills so we can get started on that résumé. The best apology you can give to Colby is to show him that you’re going to accept his help and take this opportunity to get on a path that doesn’t involve getting jumped in a hotel room. You know he’s not going to let you move out until he thinks you’re safe.”
Keats’s expression turned sour. “The dude has a major caretaker complex.”
She laughed. “He does. But that’s part of his charm.”
He tilted his head. “You gonna let him take care of you?”
She grimaced and walked toward her office, which was actually the small dining area that was open to the living room. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Keats. What Colby and I are doing is just for fun.”
Keats turned around on the couch, bracing his forearms on the back of it to face her. His smile turned challenging. “You gonna let me take care of you?”
She frowned.
“Because I’m going to earn my keep, George. Tomorrow, we’re going on our first errand together. Just think how badass you’ll look—a bodyguard with a black eye. No one would dare fuck with you.”
She rolled her eyes even as nerves knotted her stomach. But she didn’t say no.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t tell Keats no for much.
SIXTEEN
Georgia’s muscles ached from all the writing she’d done this afternoon. Keats had stuck around for a while, helping her get organized and learning her filing system on the laptop she’d given him. She’d been worried that having him there would be a complete distraction, but he was surprisingly good at being quiet and soon they’d both zoned into their work.
But she could tell after a while that all the sitting was getting to him. Whatever injuries he had from the fight were bothering him. He’d waved her off when she’d asked him about it, but she’d seen him pop open a bottle of ibuprofen a few hours in and had sent him home to rest. He’d agreed to leave only if she promised that tomorrow she’d at least attempt to go out on an errand with him.
She wandered into the kitchen, planning to figure out what she wanted to throw together for dinner when her phone rang. She strode back into the living room and grabbed her phone off her desk, smiling when she saw the name flash across the screen: For a Good Time Call.
“Hello?”
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you today. But I’ve been trying to be good and not interrupt your workday. Still busy?”
She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. For some reason, the sound of his voice made her feel like a schoolgirl. “I was just wrapping up and deciding what to do for dinner.”
“I’ve got dinner covered. Take-out from Barcelona awaits.”
“You didn’t have to—”