Page 27 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
Spying me at the window, he puts his hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun, and waves in my direction. I unlock the window and slide it up, sticking my head out.
“Can you come down and let me in? The door’s locked.”
“It’s locked to keep the riffraff out.”
He cocks his head to one side. “I’m not riffraff, I’m all the man that you need.”
I step back and point a finger at him. I’m not sure Ms. Houston would be impressed with his use of her lyrics. “Stay there, I’ll be right down.”
As I make my way back downstairs, my heart starts this tip-tapping thing, excited. It’s so unnerving, I stop at the bottom of the steps and wait for a moment, checking to see if it’s fluttering and making sure I’m not having some kind of “episode” as my grandma would call it.
I stand at the bottom of the steps, my right hand on my heart as it poundspaTHUMP,paTHUMP,echoing inside my rib cage. It feels like a normal beat until I glance up and see Zac with his face pressed to the glass so his right side is smooshed against it, grinning at me and tapping on the window.
“Let me in. Please?”
My heart feels like it could explode it’s pounding at such a rapid pace. And I think it’s all because of—him?
Shaking my head, I step backward up the flight of stairs so I’m out of view. Am I becoming attracted to Zac Wright? I mean, I guess I could be, but…do I want to be? That’s the question, and it seems—from the perspiration slick on my palms—I suddenly care more than even I knew I could.
“Get it together, woman,” I mutter to myself. Squaring my shoulders, I take a giant breath of air. I can be professional and I will be professional.
Holding my head high, I put my foot out to take a step…only I forget I’m one stair above the actual first floor. Do I fall and crumble into a giant pile of withering insanity, wishing I could disappear before my hands smack on the floor in my mad effort to catch myself?
Oh, you bet I do.
I look up to find Zac with a look on his face that is an equal mix of both horrified and hysterical. I can tell he’s trying to swallow his laughter as he points to me and then back at himself.
“I’d help you if I could get inside,” he screams.
“I’m not in some chamber where you need to yell,” I scream back. “I can hear you—the windows are only single glazed.”
Grabbing at the railing, I pull myself up into a standing position and ignore the man-child with his face still pressed against the window. I walk over and unlock the door, turning away after I do.
“You can come in now,” I call out over my shoulder. Feeling something warm in the palm of my hand, I look down half expecting it to be dripping with even more perspiration, but it’s not that—my hand is bleeding.
Zac is closing the door behind him when I groan.
“What’s wrong now?” His arms are filled as he hauls a few bags inside by himself, walking them over to one of the dining room tables. Pain in my hand aside, those are some sculpted biceps on that man, and for real, there is nothing I find sexier than the curve of a man’s bicep.
“I’ve cut myself.” I hold my hand up and point to the scratch, which for such a tiny thing is bleeding profusely. “Must have gotten caught on a splinter when I fell.”
“I hope you have good insurance, Calamity Etta.” Zac winks as he crosses the room and holds out his hand. “Let me see.”
Placing my hand in his, I can’t help but notice how close we’re standing. There’s that scent of his again. I’m not sure what it is he’s splashing on his skin, but it’s not Etta repellant, I can tell you that much.
Calming myself, I watch as he inspects my hand. Still holding my hand in his, he looks at me, his eyes’ usual emerald green have turned almost jade in color.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
I can feel the color drain from my face. “Is it that bad?”
“No.” He chuckles. “We need to disinfect it and get a Band-Aid.”
“Oh.” Crisis averted, I let my shoulders drop from where they’d hiked to my ears and dip my chin in the direction of a cabinet across the room. “Amelia keeps it in there.”
Zac lets go of my hand, my skin feeling a chill where his warmth once was when he does. Opening the cabinet door, he rustles around inside for only a moment before he turns around victorious.
“Found ‘em.” He holds up some bandages and a roll of tape in the other. He nods his head toward the kitchen. “Let’s do this over the sink.”
