Page 63 of Falling for the Bad Boy
My stomach growled at the thought of food. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little…I don’t know…off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. My mum called last night and said my aunt had a heart attack. She’s having surgery today, and I guess I’ve been a little distracted by that.”
“I’m so sorry. Is she okay?” All of a sudden, my annoyance about the yarn not showing up on time seemed like a trivial thing.
“She should be, but I’m waiting to hear. It’s my dad’s sister. We all thought Aunt Agnes was indestructible.” He shrugged. “I’m just worried about my parents.”
“Come here.” I pulled him into a hug.
“Careful, I stink.”
“You’re not so bad.” I nestled against his chest and squeezed him tight before giving him a gentle push toward the bathroom. “Go on and get your shower. I’ll wait here.”
“You could join me, you know.” His fingers lingered on mine.
“Oh no. You need to feed me first. If I get in the shower with you, I know there’s no way we’d get around to eating until late tonight.”
His half-hearted laugh lightened the mood. If he was joking around, all wasn’t lost. “Give me five minutes. I’ll feed you and then maybe we can revisit the shower later.”
I shook my head, but my stomach flip-flopped. The way he made me feel, that addictive mix of excitement and warmth one of his laughs could bring on, made me realize how important he’d become to me in the short time we’d known each other.
“Clock starts now.” I tapped my watch.
He shot me a warm grin before he grabbed a towel and headed toward the bathroom.
The water turned on, and I nestled into the couch. Poor guy. The situation with his aunt put things in perspective. How would I feel if one of my relatives was having unplanned surgery today? While I waited, I pulled out the pattern I’d been working on. My vision for No Limits included a collection of exclusive patterns I could sell alongside the yarn. I already had quite a few done, but this one was special. All of them were named after people I knew who inspired the design. Ever since I met Oliver, I’d wanted to come up with a pattern for him. But this one had been giving me fits. As I concentrated on the colorwork, Oliver’s phone started to chime.
I ignored it, and it finally quit ringing. Then it started up again. Someone wanted to talk to him. Or maybe someone needed to talk to him.
My curiosity got the better of me. It wouldn’t hurt anything to take a peek and see who was calling. I set my knitting down on the couch and practically tiptoed toward the table. It was the video app. Oh God. His mother. What if she had news about his aunt?
Before I thought it through, I pressed the button to connect the call. A woman’s face filled the screen. I could have picked her out of a lineup as Oliver’s mom. They had the same nose, the same high forehead and the same shade of brown eyes.
“Oliver?” his mom asked.
I realized that I’d left the phone sitting on the table, so all his mother could see was a shot of the ceiling.
“Are you there?”
Oh, I shouldn’t have connected the call. If I hung up now, his mother would probably think something was wrong. But if I picked up the phone, would that be worse? I reached out, changed my mind and left my hand hovering in the air.
“Oliver Wendell, what’s going on?”
Wendell? His middle name was Wendell? I leaned over the table. The camera caught part of my head.
“Um, Mrs. Martin?” I managed.
“Who’s there?” Oliver’s mom squinted at the camera.
I took in a breath through my nose. Please don’t let this get any more awkward than it already is.
“Um, hi.” I went for it, picking up the phone and holding it up to meet the camera face on. “I’m Trinity, a friend of Oliver’s. He’s um, indisposed right now, but I saw your call and didn’t want him to miss it so…”
“Who’s that?” Another face joined in on the screen. “Are you Oliver’s girlfriend?”
“Um, I, uh, I rent the space next door…” I shot a quick glance to the bathroom door. I wasn’t sure if it would make the situation better or worse if Oliver came out while I was holding a video call with his family.
“But you’re answering his phone. That must mean you’re good friends. And I’m Isla, his sister.” She turned to her mom. “She’s pretty, Mum. No wonder Oliver doesn’t want to come back.”
