Page 8 of Wild For You

“Anything at all, Erin. I mean it. That’s what sisters are for.”

She says her goodbye. I breathe a sigh of relief as we disconnect. I have no answers for her questions because I have no answers for myself.

I close my eyes and rest for a while, my cell pressed against my chest. It’s late evening when I make my way downstairs, expecting the kitchen to be empty.

“I thought you were gone.” The low husk of Cash’s voice startles me.

I press a hand against my chest and look up into his impossibly green eyes, expecting to find anger, challenge, anything but—

Indifference.

His gaze is so cold it freezes me to the core.

“I—”

I shiver involuntarily as my mind goes blank from the sudden onset of guilt.

What’s there to feel guilty about?

I may be unwanted, but I’m not an intruder.

It’s a job. I’m being paid to help. He should be thankful for that, and yet he acts as though I’m the last person he wants around.

“Believe it or not, you are my responsibility, and I take my responsibilities very seriously.” I raise my chin defiantly, which seems to slowly become a pattern around him. “Your father hired me, meaning I’ll leave when he asks me to.”

“Is that so?” His mouth sets and his gaze brushes over me, moving from head to toe, though not in that lingering kind of way.

He’s assessing me as though this is a job interview.

I try to remember what he does when he’s not risking his life riding bulls, but can’t remember.

Dammit!

I should have Googled him, find out the kind of person he is before I accepted this job. But the last few months weren’t exactly kind to me.

“Maybe I don’t look like much, but I’m one of the best at what I do.”

“What is it that you do—what did you say your name was?” He leans into the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt, straining the seams. There’s a gleam of pain in his eyes, which he hides just as quickly as it appeared.

Under usual circumstances, I would show sympathy. But not today.

The guy couldn’t even be bothered to remember my name!

“I’m your new physical therapist.” I emphasize the last word just in case he thinks I’m the help or something. And if he wants to know my name he’ll have to ask again.

“So, you’re the one who’ll rub my back and tuck me into bed at night.” His cold glare breaks in favor of a leering smile. “I bet that’s not all you’re good at.”

Now we’ve entered familiar territory.

What is it with guys and the sexual innuendoes when they confuse my job description with someone who works in a massage parlor?

“I’m here to help you get back on your feet, not get you off, Mr. Boyd. There definitely won’t be any happy endings. Bedwise, that is.”

His lips twitch. “Bedwise? Is that even a word?”

“It is now.” My eyes throw daggers. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have any effect on his stupid grin. “If you’re looking for a hooker, I’ll be happy to call one for you. Should you try anything—”

“Relax, sweetheart,” Cash says, cutting me off. “I don’t ever impose on a woman. They usually impose on me.”

---