Page 48 of Class Act

I frowned at him. “I don’t want you paying for my responsibilities.”

“I’m the one who had it towed.” He sighed. “Hailey, come inside and sit down, please. You’re obviously in pain.”

Challenge rose up in me, confusing and yet thrilling at the same time. Was this what an out-of-body experience felt like? I’d heard people talk about it, but I hadn’t understood before. It was like I was watching from a distance, words coming out that I had no control over as my head throbbed.

“Why should I?” I asked.

“Are you safe to drive?”

“Absolutely.” I swayed a little, and he was immediately there, his hands wrapping around my upper arms. “I had peaceful days before meeting you Whittakers,” I said in a near whisper.

I was aware of him stepping to the side and putting an arm around my shoulders, gently pushing me forward toward the stairs. Away from my car, away from home.

“Yes, but it was boring, admit it,” he responded.

I looked at him with a sweet look. “Never underestimate the draw of boring.”

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I took hold of the railing without any real thought about it. I slowly took the stairs, mumbling senseless things about ice skating and horror movies and how much I loved a good cup of hot cocoa. As I babbled along my hand slipped on the railing I was using for support, and I found myself falling up the stairs, dizziness making me unable to accommodate the sudden shift in my weight. I made to grab for the railing with the other hand, but when a giant current of pain ran down my arm, I yelped and pulled it back. The momentum threw me backwards, straight into Ford’s chest.

“I suppose you’re going to blame your fall up the stairs on us Whittakers too?” Ford asked calmly as he wrapped a steadying arm around my middle.

It took me a minute to realize that my back was pressed up against him, his arm banded around me, and when I did my blush could have melted the hand railing. I sank into it for a heartbeat, soaking up the feeling of being safe, before sheer force of will had me moving forward out of his embrace.

“It’s tempting to blame you for a lot of things,” I grumbled.

He came around to the front of me and reached out a hand. I froze, wondering what to do next in this little back-and-forth of ours. I’d never engaged in this type of playful fighting before him. So, I stared at it and then back up at him.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked, nodding toward his hand.

“Take it.” He stated with pinched lips.

I tugged down my sweatshirt and took his hand. It was like the first time we’d touched, and while I’d prefer to blame railing burn for the heat I felt on my palm, there was a chance it was the result of his hand in mine. His strong fingers wrapped around mine, and he held me firmly until I’d made it up to the step he was on. Then he turned and tugged my hand through his elbow until it was resting securely there. If I’d wanted to, I could have taken a little visit to bicep land to see what it had to offer, but I chose to avoid that particular minefield.

What I really wanted to do was lean my head against his shoulder and let him boss me around. It wasn’t a concept I’d typically find appealing, but in the moment it sounded utterly delicious to allow his strength to carry me along.

“I’m not trying to boss you around here,” he said, and I giggled at him basically reading my mind, “but you really need to lie down.” His voice was kind and soft, the same soothing tone he’d used the night I’d been hurt. “Just until you aren’t so dizzy.” Worn out and tired, I followed placidly as he slowly helped guide me up the stairs. “Is there anything I can do to thank you for bringing my kids back?” he asked as we walked into his home and made our way to his family room.

“No. I’m so glad they’re safe.”

“I could spring for a new sweatshirt. Did you buy that when you were in college a decade ago?”

I glared up at him. “Yes, I did. It’s comfy and cozy, and I don’t usually wear it out of the house.”

“It should be made into rags,” he teased.

“That’s mean.” I tugged my good hand out of his arm and walked myself to a big, inviting couch. “I happen to love this old rag. I don’t want you to spring for anything. In fact, I’m probably the only woman in the world who doesn’t want a thing from you. Not even the smallest, littlest, tiniest thing.” All propriety was cast out as I made myself a bed on that couch and tugged a blanket over me. I closed my eyes.

“Oh yeah?” I could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Yeah. And another thing, go easy on Hillary and Henry. I think that bike ride cured them of all devious plans.”

“Maybe not all of their devious plans,” he said, still sounding entertained. His hand was light on my cheek as he brushed some hair away from my face. “I’ll bring you some pain medicine, okay? Or does that count as me giving you something?”

“Thanks. Just put it on my tab,” I replied and he chuckled.

I slitted my eyes and watched as he walked out of the room, my stomach in knots as the feeling of his fingertips lingered on my skin. I’d lied to him just now. I didn’t want anything from him . . . I wanted everything.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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