Page 32 of Safe With Me
Tendons flexed in his forearm as he ate, and my gaze caught on his long fingers, knuckles scarred from years of farmwork. His fingertips would be rough, like the pleasurable rub of a cat’s tongue over skin.
What was wrong with me? Weak. That’s what I was. I wasweak.
He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”
Tensing, I shot him a baleful glare. “That’s not the way to start a conversation, Tate.”
“Yeah, we both know emotional intelligence isn’t my forte either.” His jaw went rock-hard again, that muscle flicking. “I saw all those comments.”
My stomach bottomed out, appetite gone. I put my fork down, metal clattering on marble.
“There are threats in there, Hannah. We don’t know where any of those people live and Elizabeth hasn’t been discreet about locations around here.”
Elizabeth wasn’t discreet about anything. She was a big spotlight coupled with a blaring loudspeaker, yellinglook at me!
“You’re not staying here by yourself.”
What the everloving hell? Anger detonated under my skin once more, and I gripped the edge of the island. This fast, intense fury wasn’t like me. Keeping the explosion contained, I tried for Scott’s deadly cynicism instead of the instantaneouswho do you think you are.
“Let me guess.” I made my tone as snide as possible. “You’re going to stay here and keep me safe. Be my protector. Oh, better yet, be my bodyguard and my fake boyfriend to save my reputation in town.”
He didn’t rise to my bait, although his mouth pressed to a thin line. “I don’t care who’s here as long as you’re not alone. Your reputation will speak for itself with people who count. And when I fucking earn boyfriend status with you, there won’t be anything fake about it, sugar.”
“Be still my beating heart.” Okay, I felt my lips curl back in that sneer.
He held up his palm facing me. “Want to punch me? Will it make you feel better?”
“Oh, fuck you, Tate.”
A gleam sparked in his eyes, and he opened his mouth before snapping it shut.
A beat passed between us, heavy with images and possibilities, those rough fingers easing over my skin, while . . .
“Who’re you calling to stay with you? Sara? Gracie?”
“They have lives, Tate.” I crossed my arms, leaning back on the stool. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
He tilted his head. “Guess it’s me.”
“I’ll lock you out the first time you leave.”
“Pfft. I’d pop that lock in a couple of minutes.” He sobered, a truly troubled set to his mouth. “So could anyone else.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“No. I’m being real.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, stubble rasping under his fingertips. “People are crazy, and you’re too important to risk.”
“So you’re just going to move in.” Were we really having this conversation? Was he nuts?
“Yeah, or you pack a bag and go to the cabin with me.” He shrugged. “Thought you’d be more comfortable at home with your things.”
The childishly obstinate part of me wanted to argue. The more logical side of me had witnessed the ugliness of that comment thread. And the honest pieces of me whispered I felt safer with his presence.
Fine. He could stay.
I’d ignore him and work on my exit plan.
Chapter Nine
