Page 75 of Sweet Thing

He clambered into the driver’s seat and stared straight ahead.

“Did you—hit someone?” The only someone worth hitting here was Rowan and I couldn’t condone that. Yet, a thrill skittered through my veins all the same. Was I suddenly one of those drama-llamaReal Housewivestypes who enjoyed men fighting over her?

Calm down. No one is fighting over you.

Lars remained silent as he started the car and pulled out into traffic.

“Lars, tell me. Did you hit someone?”

“Hush now, the baby.”

The baby?Nowhe was worried about the baby? I took a quick glance, and sure enough Mabel was sleeping, a damn conspiracy with this man to keep me from shouting at him.

I lowered my voice to a furious whisper. “Did. You. Hit. Someone?”

“Someone implies a human being. Not sure MacFarlane deserves that label.”

My gaze dropped to his right hand, gripping the steering wheel. The knuckles were tinged red.

“Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

“Seriously, I don’t.” I thought on it for a second. “Because you don’t get along with him?”

“Doesn’t help.”

But that wasn’t it—or only it. “I don’t understand you at all.”

“Women are from Venus, right?”

“Don’t know what that means.”

He sighed. “It means men and women are from different planets. They don’t always get each other.”

“Sure, but I’m not an illogical person and this isn’t logical behavior, Lars. You woke your baby up in the middle of the night?—”

“She can sleep anywhere. And she likes the car motion.”

“And drove thirty minutes to downtown Chicago to … rescue me. When I didn’t need rescuing.”

He snorted. “I saw the photos.”

“What are you doing checking out Rowan’s Insta? Is that what you usually do on your night off? See how the boys are spending it at the club?”

“He’s always posting shit. And that seemed like the best way to see if you were having a good time with him. Because you weren’t going to tell me.”

“I threw a drink at him.”

He caught my gaze in the mirror. “Good for you. What did he do to deserve that?”

“Oh, I just came across a few texts to his bros. Made it clear I wasn’t his main target tonight.” I held up a hand. “It’s not a big deal. But you showing up—with Mabel!—and then hitting him makes it seem like a big deal. It’s stupid, Lars, and does not make for good teamwork.”

“But it felt good.” He flexed his hand, and I couldn’t help myself. I placed my palm over those pinked-up knuckles.

“Did it hurt?”

“Nah, sweet thing. Gloves off is what we do.”

---