Page 16 of Soft Tissue Damage
“Your daddy loves you so much,” I whisper, stroking back her curls. “You’re the luckiest little girl in the world.”
“Da-dee,” Rosie says, looking around for him.
I wonder what time Mr. Grant got home from his poker game. I picture him bare-chested and asleep in his bed just down the corridor, the sheet low on his hips, and I feel my cheeks turn pink. “Daddy’s probably asleep right now. Do you want to come downstairs and have some breakfast with Elena?”
“Lay-na.”
“That’s right, I’m Elena. And what’s your name. Is it Rosie?”
“Rosie.”
“You’re Rosie, and I’m Elena.”
“Lay-na.”
We’re both smiling and enjoying this back and forth as I carry Rosie downstairs, but in the doorway, I freeze.
There’s a half-naked stranger in the kitchen wearing only a towel low on his hips. He’s turned away from me, doing something on the counter. He’s tall, and his broad, muscular back is covered in tattoos. There’s more ink snaking down his arms. He dominates the room. His presence screams danger.
My arms tighten protectively around Rosie. Mr. Grant’s explanation about the security system in his house comes rushing back to me. There’s an alarm panel on the wall close to where I’m standing. I hurry over to the panic button, but my foot catches on a stool, the leg squeals against the tiles, and I trip.
The stranger turns around, and I realize he’s not a stranger at all. It’s Mr. Grant. There’s dark hair on his chest, and even more tattoos. I had no idea he looked like that. He’s been hiding his muscles and tattoos under nondescript clothing.
“Elena!” Mr. Grant lunges for us, and catches us both in his arms before we can fall. He steadies us, and his hot breath stirs my hair. My entire field of vision is filled with Mr. Grant’s broad chest. He has an amazing, deep, rich woody scent with a little smokiness.
I feel my face turn red. I’m in Mr. Grant’s embrace with my body pressed against his blazing hot one, and I nearly fell over while carrying his baby. She could have gotten hurt. I’m the worst babysitter ever.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grant. I nearly fell while holding Rosie. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise,” I plead.
He slowly releases me and straightens up. “It’s my fault. You didn’t know I was here, and I scared you. Those were good instincts, going for the panic button when you were afraid. Are you all right? Did you hurt your ankle?”
I don’t know where to look. This is not what I was imagining Mr. Grant would look like almost naked. He’s alot more muscular than I was expecting, and the tattoos that adorn his flesh make me hungry to touch him.
I’m reminded of my dream about him, when he was holding me close and there was a glimmer of darkness in his eyes.
Strong and protective, with just a hint of danger.
Why is that so sexy?
Now that some of the shock is ebbing away, I feel flustered more than anything. To cover my embarrassment, I smooth Rosie’s curls back. “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Grant. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have texted you that I’m here, but when I got out of the shower, I really needed coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, please.”
He reaches out and takes Rosie from me, smiling at her and calling her Rosie-Posy as she pats his bristly cheek and giggles. After giving her a cuddle and a kiss, he passes her back to me and turns toward the coffee machine.
My eyes linger on the way the morning light hits Mr. Grant’s muscular shoulders as he pours two cups—until I remember that I’m supposed to be working, not ogling my boss.
Rosie is happily chanting, “Da-dee, Da-dee, Da-dee,” as I prepare a bottle of milk and make some oatmeal.
While she’s in my arms, Mr. Grant cups his daughter’s cheek and leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. He’s so close, and the gesture is so intimate that it almost feels like he’s kissing me. His eyes close, and I cansee that his thick lashes are all different shades of brown and gold.
When he opens his eyes, they meet mine, and my stomach swoops.
We stare at each other. He studies my face, and I suddenly realize he must be confused why I’m staring at him like an idiot, and I quickly look away.
Mr. Grant steps back. “I’ll go get dressed. Sorry about the towel. I’m used to it just being me and Rosie this early in the morning.”
