Page 139 of The True Garza
~
The alarm beeps, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
Brook groans beside me on the couch. “That better not be Charles. Icannotdeal with him right now.”
“Then take his key,” I mutter absently, absorbed inSuits.
“I have to be the good sister, remember?” She throws a cashew at me. “Both of us can’t be rotten.”
“Whatever. I didn’t think I’d like your stupid lawyer shows, but this one’s really good. Harvey Specter is scrumptious.”
“’Night.”
Uh, that’s not Charles’s voice.
We both jerk our attention in the direction of the intruder, our gazes landing on the broad back ofTrue Garzaas he strolls into the kitchen with several grocery bags, as if he owns the place.
My heart leaps in my chest. It’s been over a week since he walked away from me at the hospital. And while everyone else has volunteered to rotate dropping in and helping me out, he hasn’t. Now he just waltzes in here like nothing, sending my heart into overdrive.
“You know, you were supposed to return that key I lent you,” Brook calls to him, “not use it to barge in whenever you want.”
“She needs good food.” He deposits the grocery bags on the island. “And you can’t cook.”
Brook shoots me an accusing glare. “Did you tell him that?”
“Why would I?” I’m laughing. “It’s not like I’m any better.”
Brook pelts a throw pillow in his direction, but it doesn’t even make it halfway across the huge space. “You Garzas need to keep your noses out of other people’s business.”
“It’s not the Garzas who’re in your business,” he mutters low.
Brook gives me a questioning glance. “You’re one of them now, so you must know what he means by that…?”
It’s the Castellos. But she’s not ready for that truth yet, so I shrug. “Hell if I know.”
While Brook and I watchSuits, True cooks dinner for us. Though I’m not as engrossed as I was before. How can I be, when he’sright therein the kitchen, looking as hot as Hades? Moving around with ease and confidence, as if he built this place with his bare hands.
Brook scoots close to me and whispers, “I’m starting to think he loves you.”
“Only because you don’t know him.”
“Well, at the very least, he’s obsessed with you.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “He’s the most random person I’ve ever met. Trust me, there’s no method to his madness.”
Soon, he’s in our space. Without a word, he lifts me from the couch to my wheelchair and wheels me off into the dining room.
“Are you coming back for me too, Daddy?” Brook calls teasingly.
As he ignores her and transfers me to one of the chairs at the table, I say, “You know I’m not quite an invalid, right? I can hop around on my uninjured foot. The wheelchair is just to help me get around easier.”
“And my arms even more so,” he returns without expression or inflection.
“If you want to touch me so badly, all you have to do is ask,” I say with a grin. “No need to keep lifting me like I’m an infant.”
“Why would I need to ask to touch what’s mine?”
Why, indeed. Touch me whenever you want. All access automatically granted.
