Page 79 of Let It Breathe
“I like my house. It’s plenty of room for me, my rescue animals, and the occasional drunken guest,” Reese said. “Right in here.”
Reese held open a door, and Clay carried Larissa through it. Reese bent forward to pull the covers back so Clay could set her down on the bed. He reached for the sheet, ready to pull it up to Larissa’s chin.
“Hold on, let me take her shoes off,” Reese said. “Er, shoe. She’s missing one.”
“Probably left it in my truck. I’ll go get it.”
“We can grab it later. Let’s just get her tucked in.”
“We don’t have to undress her, do we?”
Reese laughed. “You may be the first man who didn’t jump at the chance to remove Larissa’s clothes.”
Clay stood quietly, waiting at a respectful distance as Reese peeled off her cousin’s denim jacket and removed her dangly earrings.
Once they had Larissa tucked in, they moved silently out of the room. Reese shut the door behind her and padded barefoot into the kitchen, her black dress brushing the soft hollow at the back of her knees.
Clay followed, intending to make a hasty retreat. He just needed to grab Larissa’s shoe and get out of here. Lingering with Reese would be bad, especially now that he’d slipped up twice and kissed her. Jesus, it was like he was trying to screw up all his friendships.
Then Reese reached up to pull two glasses out of a cupboard, and Clay promptly forgot his exit strategy. Instead, he watched her dress ride up the back of her thighs, exposing a pale swath of skin that looked so soft he itched to run his finger over it. The dress was some sort of silky material, and it hugged her curves without being obscene. He watched her calf muscles flex, watched her bare arm as she?—
“Don’t you think so?” Reese asked.
Clay’s mind came crashing back to the present. Shit. What had she just asked him? He tried to think of a tactful way to recover.
“That’s an interesting question,” he said. “Maybe if you rephrased it, I could give you a broader answer.”
Reese blinked at him. “Okay,” she said. “The ice we get from the well out here always tastes better than the crap we get in restaurants, wouldn’t you agree?”
Dammit.
“Right,” Clay said, and rested his elbows on the serving bar as Reese set a glass in front of him and poured cola over the large chunks of ice.
He watched her for a moment as she lifted her own glass to her lips to take a sip. Clay picked up his glass and drained half of it in one gulp. He set it down and looked up to see her studying him. He cleared his throat.
“How are all your animals?”
“Good. Leon’s recovered from his bender, Oscar the orphaned opossum is almost ready for solid food, and Axl taught Earwax the raccoon to sit up and beg.”
“That’s everyone?”
“No, just the ones you’ve met. There’s a skunk with an injured foot, a kestrel with a broken wing, a couple fawns I’m bottle feeding?—”
“Wow. You have your hands full.”
“I like it. You’re part of the reason I got serious about animal rehab in the first place.”
Clay looked down at his hands, not sure how to take that. Reese certainly had a soft spot for lost souls. Is that what he was to her? The thought reminded him of the drunk girl snoozing in the guest room. He cleared his throat. “So, Reese. Does Larissa get wasted like that a lot?”
Reese twisted her glass in her hands, considering. “Occasionally. More than I wish she did, but not like?—”
She stopped and bit her lip. Clay knew why.
“Not like I was? A drunk, you mean?” He saw Reese flinch. “Not yet, but she could be headed that way. I remember her doing that a lot in college, and the fact that she’s still at it is a red flag.”
“I appreciate your concern,” she said, her crisp tone suggesting she definitely didn’t.
Clay sighed and wrapped his fingers around the glass again. “I’d be a jerk if I didn’t say something, Reese. I know what it’s like. And I know you think it’s your job to take care of all the living creatures in need. I’m just saying, keep an eye on her.”
