Page 33 of Hidden Rocco
A cold wind whipped in her face so she just waved from the threshold of the backdoor of her patio toward Rocco. “Come in.”
Rocco straightened and wiped his pants like he’d get the dirt off that way as he made his way toward her.
Strong muscles had never stirred anything inside her that resembled desire until Rocco.
Every other man, including her prince who'd tried to kill her, had been skinny in comparison.
Rocco took the door from her and held it as she headed inside first.
Jacob cooed like he was happy to be back inside the house as she said to Rocco, “How did the conversation go with your mom?”
He reached into his back pocket and placed her phone in between her fingers that held the baby. “Fine. I should delete the contact from your phone.”
She shrugged, but juggled her baby onto her shoulder and opened her phone with the other hand as they headed to the kitchen table for staff and said as she read her screen, “I’ll do it… you only talked to her like twenty minutes.”
He returned to the sink and washed his hands. “Yeah. I tried to keep it short.”
She pushed her phone in her back pocket. “It’s getting dark and cold again and you don’t have a heavy jacket.”
He turned off the faucet and dried his hands. “I needed to think.”
She headed over to the sink and stood next to him as warm goosebumps rushed over her arm that brushed his as she asked, “About?”
Despite the heavy subject, Rocco smiled at Jacob. “Money. My mother said she can’t afford-”
“Send her to my doctors,” she interrupted, and then pressed her lips together as his face seemed pinched. She bounced her son but stood beside Rocco as she added, “They saved my life and I’m sure they can help her.”
He didn’t step away but said, “That sounds… expensive.”
She bumped her shoulder into his. Rocco made her trust in humanity, and in him. “Don’t. You’re helping me. I’ll help her.”
Rocco looked at her son on her hip. “I’m not doing much other than cooking. But I wanted to talk to you about working for you in exchange of the cost for my mother’s care.”
“Food smells delicious.” She wished he understood how peaceful he made her. “And we’ll figure out the details together. I already said I’d pay.”
This calm in her world was worth its price in gold. Peace wasn’t her life. At any minute she might need to run her baby to her helicopter and fly him away from bad people who wanted her and her son dead. Knowing that Rocco was at her side gave her an added layer of safety.
He shook his head. “But cancer treatment seems much more expensive.”
Right. She licked her lips and met his eyes as she took a second to find the words as her heart raced. Finally she settled on what she meant to say and prayed she didn’t scare him off. “You’ve restored my faith in men and I… want to help you, if you allow me.”
He lowered his head and his cheeks turned slightly red before he nodded, “Thank you. My mother’s health is something I’d sell my soul for.”
She didn’t require that, but would make it happen. Mica opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle for her son. “So, go take a shower and get dressed. The smell is making me hungry.”
He saluted like she’d given him an order. “I’ll make sure dinner is ready.”
“I’m sure you will.” She put the bottle in her son’s mouth and imagined getting dressed herself soon. Something pretty.
Rocco, on his way out, paused at the kitchen door. “I will try to never disappoint you, Mica. You’ve been hurt enough in the past.”
She took a step toward him and lowered her head as memories rushed in of when she’d been half-dead but flew herself out of Ali’s castle in the middle of the night to find treatment. If she hadn’t had her plane in the vicinity, she’d be dead. She met Rocco’s kind gaze and said, “I think you’ve been through worse.”
She hadn’t been falsely arrested, and never wanted his experience. He returned to her. Mica put her son in his playpen so he could eat properly as Rocco said, “No one tried to kill me.”
Her heart pounded in her chest so much she almost trembled—when she never usually reacted. “Your brother Roger was a killer--he didn't try to hurt you?”
Rocco pointed to a small, hardly noticeable spot on his forehead. “He gave me this scar above my eyebrow when I was a boy, but he never hurt me as a man.”
