Page 16 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“You work here?” Thane asks. “And live there?”
“What, didn’t that show up in your research?” Unfortunately, my snark bounces right off him.
“That was sarcasm,” Rafe explains, to which Thane leans into my personal space to stare at my face. His eyeballs move rapidly as though he’s memorizing every inch of me.
Back up, buddy. Back it right back up. The chemical reaction I have to this man is unsafe for everyone in a ten-mile radius.
You know why,my conscience singsongs. Well, maybe not sings…more like raps in my ear. Not the rap full of profanity, but the Snoop Dogg affirmations kind of rap. My mind is a scary place sometimes.
It was a mistake, an error in my calculations, I silently fight back.
Liar. You don’t make mistakes. You and Thane had the highest match percentage of anyone you’ve ever tested. 99.7% doesn’t lie.
“Thane, try this,” Mrs. Perez says. When Thane opens his mouth to reply, she shoves something in.
His gasp is audible, and then he begins choking.
“They’re my famous peanut butter surprise cookies. The surprise is the chocolate filling.” Mrs. Perez is the matriarch of Sweetbriar, and pushy as hell.
“Oh no.” Kara gasps to my left.
“Oh shit.” Rafe runs from my office.
That’s when I remember Thane is allergic to peanuts—the only imperfection I could find on his application to the Single Dad Hotline—and only an imperfection because I freaking love peanut butter. Ugh.
CHAPTERFIVE
THANE
Openingmy eyes is harder than the leg day my trainer, Ivan, put me through last week, and my throat burns like the one time I allowed Rafe to get me drunk in college. After throwing up in my trash bin, I never did anything in excess again.
“How are you feeling?”
Rolling my head to the left, I blink a vision into focus. Lottie? What the hell is she doing here?
I glance down at myself in a paper gown that’s partially covered by a blanket made of sandpaper with a pillow lying across my lap hiding an unfortunate erection, then around the room I don’t recognize.
“We had to bring you to the clinic. Rafe couldn’t find your EpiPen, and the hospital was too far, but Dr. Diggle took good care of you. They, uh, had to pump your stomach and give you epinephrine, but he said you’ll be fine.”
The memory of a squat, smiling woman shoving food into my mouth makes me groan.
“I want to assure you the Scuttlebutts have alerted the entire town that you’re allergic to peanuts, so that will never, ever happen again. Poor Mrs. Perez is beside herself.”
Poor. Mrs. Perez.
My insides have been twisted around and put back sideways, but yes, poor Mrs. Perez.
She really should learn not to stick her fingers in strangers’ mouths.
Would Rafe say that was sarcasm? I’m pretty sure I nailed it.
“K—Kara?” I ask. My throat feels as though it went through a cheese grater.
“She’s at home with Rafe. He’s really very good with her, by the way. He tells me you’ve been friends since college. Which is funny because I didn’t even know you had any friends. There’s nothing online, and you didn’t indicate any friends when we met. You know, briefly at my nanny match event. Or in any of the messages since. Please don’t sue me.” Her words are one long run-on sentence that I struggle to follow.
“Why would I sue you?” Maybe I’m forgetting something else that happened after my throat closed up.
“Um.” She bites her bottom lip, and I adjust my hips when my cock strains for her. Boners are only acceptable in very specific situations, and this is not one of them, so my inappropriate condition needs to stay concealed.
