Page 52 of To Believe In You
He dipped his head and regretted mentioning it, since the angle made watching her harder.
The gush of the faucet stopped, and her heel clicked on the tile as she stepped close. Realizing she wanted to get at the stains on his shirt, he angled his head to the side, keeping his chin down.
The shirt was a lost cause, but she must’ve been too flustered to recognize the futility because she dabbed at the stains. She should’ve asked a lot more questions before exposing herself to his blood. If he hadn’t been tested and declared mercifully healthy since getting sober, he’d never let her do this.
Her unchecked impulse to help said a lot about her. Despite how she’d been burned, she retained a certain innocence and a powerful passion to care for people. It fit with how she regularly made a full buffet of food for Key of Hope. Finding himself the center of all that selfless concern stunned him.
What made her think him worth ignoring the risks?
“He’s never gotten violent before.”
He watched her hands, searching for signs of injury. “Including the way he grabbed you?”
Her tennis bracelet caught on her wrist bone and sparkled in the dim light of the room, but he could discern no bruises. She moved too quickly for him to tell if she was shaking.
“Okay. That’s not a first.” Still working on his shirt, she stood close enough for him to see the individual hairs in her brows as she drew them together. Her eyes glittered like her bracelet, light catching on unshed tears.
Matt’s shoulders knotted with tension. “He was your dad’s big surprise?”
The corners of her mouth turned down, her lips still full and perfectly red.
Maybe helping her feel better was as much a fool’s errand as cleaning up his shirt, but he had to try. “Everything he said about you came out of defensiveness. Don’t believe a word.”
Her eyes darted to his, then refocused on her work. If not for the bloody nose, he’d smell the aquatic notes of her perfume. And this gutsier Lina who’d shown up after the fight might not mind a kiss—again, if not for the blood.
Except, she’d just had a big fight with her ex. She was shaken and vulnerable. He shouldn’t be thinking about making a move.
She lowered the paper towels from his shirt. “I’ll replace it.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s the least I can do.” She dropped the soiled paper towels into the trash, then returned to lean on the vanity, arms crossed, eyes on him.
“The suit’s a rental, shirt and all.” He tested his nose by lowering the paper towels, but blood dripped to the already-soaked towel immediately. He put it back in place.
“I’ll pay for it then.”
As if he would let her. “You didn’t correct him.”
She arched an eyebrow. “About what?”
“He called me your boyfriend.”
Her short laugh felt like a compliment. “There was a lot going on.”
Matt nodded, a movement that required his hand as well as his head.
With a glint in her eyes, she studied him. Finally, she shook her head as if to clear a ridiculous notion.
Whatever the thought had been, Matt missed it already.
“You’re not driving in this condition,” she said. “I’ll take you wherever you’re staying tonight.”
“My parents’ place, but I can drive.”
“You’re actively bleeding for my sake. The least I can do is drive you home.”
He could argue, but where was the fun in that? After accepting the extra paper towels she doled out, he followed her outside.
