Page 43 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“If you say so. You okay to get home? The roads are probably icy.”

“I’ll be fine.” I slung my backpack over one shoulder and headed into the lobby.

“I’ll walk you out.”

I shook my head, but he ignored me and followed me out, holding the front door open for me against a gust of icy wind.

I tucked my head down and headed to my car, grateful that he stayed in the doorway. The parking lot was icy and my feet slipped a few times, but I managed to stay upright.

Until I didn’t. One moment I was looking at my car, the next I was chewing pavement. I hit so hard and fast that I didn’t have time to put my hands out or really register that I was going down.

The ice against my forehead burned, and my hands weren’t getting traction as I tried to push up. My scarf had been knocked off and covered my eyes as I lifted my head.

“Liv!” Connor’s voice was suddenly next to me. “Are you okay?”

He hooked his hands under my arms from behind and lifted me to my feet, which had me slipping again. I reached for my car to steady myself. He turned me to face him and pushed the scarf out of my eyes and back up onto my curls. He was back lit from the shop lights, so while he had a good view of my face, I couldn’t see his in the darkness.

“You cut your cheek. Come on,” he mumbled.

He picked up my fallen backpack and then put an arm around my shoulders as we walked slowly back into the light and warmth of the shop. He guided me straight back into the office we’d just left. It still smelled like soup and cocoa. I thought maybe I’d always remember that cozy dinner with Connor and his dad.

“You’re not saying anything. How hard did you hit your head?” he interrupted my musings.

I blinked. “Me not talking is concerning?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t talk that much,” I replied, but it had no sting, only weariness.

“You do.”

I sat in one of the smaller chairs across from the desk. “This is karma, you know.”

“For what?”

“Laughing so hard when Sadie got clipped by that tuber a few days ago.” I tried to grin at the memory, but it tugged my cheek and I winced. I looked up to meet his concerned eyes. “How bad is it? Do you think I’ll need stitches?” I tugged a mitten off and felt my cheek. My hand came away with blood, and tears immediately pooled at the sight. “I’m bleeding.”

His expression shifted to something tender, the same look I’d painted in his eyes all those days ago. It made my heart beat in my throat and my breathing feel shallow.

“Don’t cry, Livy,” he said in an oddly husky voice.

“Don’t call me Livy,” I whispered.

He said nothing, just went back into that storage room of wonders.They must have everything imaginable back there, I thought as I leaned into the chair. Sure enough, within a minute he was back with a first aid kit. He set it on the desk and opened it. After rifling around for a moment he came and knelt in front of me.

“I’m going to clean it up and get some bandaging on it,” he said. I nodded. “It’s going to sting.” I nodded again and bit my lip. He opened an antiseptic wipe and took my hand to move it away from where I’d been holding it over my injury. “You have paint on your fingers.” I nodded. “You have paint on your nails a lot. How come?”

He’d noticed? How? No one had ever mentioned it to me before. My mouth felt dry as I whispered, “Rule number one.”

His eyes were amused as he dropped my hand to focus on cleaning my face. With his head so close to mine I finally had a chance to examine the facets of color in his hair. It reminded me a little of some pictures I’d seen of red desert sand, although it was darker in some places. It helped my mind focus when the stinging started. I winced, even though I was trying to hold still.

At my jerk he looked up and met my eyes. He was so much closer than I’d realized. Our gazes held, and I wondered what he was thinking. Suddenly I felt overly warm, and swallowing was difficult. Still our gazes held, his so rich in yellows and browns.

“How does it look?” I squeaked out.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he said at last, tearing his gaze away.

My cheeks felt flushed, and new tears rose on the waves of unwanted emotion. I could not feel attracted to Connor Hunt. He was so wrong in so many ways. Hejust...no. I wasn’t even going to go down that path. I had Blaine, I had school, I had a future. None of those things were in the room with me at that moment, and I had to remember that. I couldn’t get sucked in to the false feelings prickling around me. I’d known Connor my whole life. I’d heard the stories, seen the swagger, and understood that no one got into his heart. It didn’t matter at all that the Connor I was getting to know seemed to be the opposite of what I’d always believed.

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