“About that.” I swallow the grub in my mouth. “I told your boss you’re no longer working there.”
“You what?” Her eyes widen. “Cal, I need that job.”
“Do you actually enjoy working for Doreen?”
“Of course not, but that’s not the point. Kenzie and I can’t afford to live anywhere else.”
I take her hand in mine. “Look, Holly, as far as I’m concerned, this is your new home. You can stay here as long as you want. Forever if you’d like.”
“That’s...” She blinks. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious. I paid your rent through next week so you can focus on the situation with McKenzie without worrying about your stuff.”
“What about Kenzie? Where’s she supposed to live?”
“She can live here, too.”
Holly stares at her hand in mine like she’s trying to convince herself that my offer is real, that I’m real.
“What do I have to do?” she asks.
The question is a sucker punch to the gut. She thinks I want something from her. And sure, I want plenty of things from her. But I’m not looking to trade comfort for sex. She could tell me to stay six feet away from her at all times, and I’d do it, no questions asked. My need to protect her isn’t contingent on her giving me access to her body. Knowing she’s happy and safe is its own reward.
“Nothing,” I say. “You don’t have to do a damn thing.”
“But how will I pay you rent?”
“You won’t.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
The confusion in her gaze breaks my fucking heart. I bet she can’t remember the last time someone other than McKenzie did something nice for her without expecting something in return—if there ever was a last time.
“Holly, if you want to live somewhere else when all of this is over, I’ll help make it happen. But for now, why don’t we look at this as a test run?”
She bites her thumbnail as she weighs my offer.
“Okay,” she says finally. “I’ll stay until we find McKenzie. After that, we’ll talk.”
“Fair enough.”
We finish up dinner, filling the silence with the clinking of forks and knives. I know I should stop looking at her. Stop studying the way her red hair frames her face.
Her gaze catches on mine. Whatever makeup voodoo she’s performed on her eyes has somehow made ‘em look even bigger. I still don’t understand how she can look eighteen one moment, and then suddenly look ten years younger the next.
Maybe it’s the anxiety that makes her seem younger, like a kid trembling at the bus stop on their first day of third grade. She’s not a child, but she is innocent in ways that can be a danger to girls in her situation. I’ll do whatever I can to protect that intact sliver of hope in her otherwise fractured existence.
I put down my fork about the same time she lowers hers.
“You cooked,” she says. “Let me clean. After all, it’s what I’m good at.”
“I bet you’re good at a whole lot of things,” I say, then kick myself for saying it. I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain I hear her gasp.
I’d been doing so well remembering what I am, who she is, and the fact that she’s off-limits.
She takes our dishes to the sink and turns on the water. As she opens the bottle of dish soap and lathers up the brand-new sponge I picked up today, my attention pours over her backside from head to toe.
She has no idea how glorious she is.
Fuck, this is not good. I need to put at least one wall between us. I push up from the table and head for the sliding-glass doors, practically hurling myself onto my back porch.
The air outside is hot and heavy. I scratch at my stubbled jaw and force myself to count to twenty.
“Get ahold of yourself, man,” I mumble. I close my eyes and deepen my breaths in an effort to slow my pulse. This girl has no idea what she does to me just by existing. Every inch of her body is a temple my inner demons would very much like to desecrate.
A moment later, I hear the back door slide open.
“What’s this?” Holly asks, holding up the stuffed kitten. I’d forgotten all about that impulse purchase. It looks even sillier now than it did in the store.
“I, uh, picked it up this afternoon. It’s all right if you hate it.”
“You got this for me?” She combs her fingers through the white fur.
“Like I said, it’s fine if you don’t want it.”
I reach for the kitten. She draws it fully into her arms, away from me.
“Don’t,” she says. “I love it.”
“Then she’s all yours.” I tuck my hands in my front pockets so I won’t be tempted to brush her hair back from her face, or stroke her cheeks, or the countless other things my paws are itching to do to this sweet girl.