Vulture (a Stepbrother Romance) -(27)

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I shouted at him, lashing out at him for no real reason other than he was there—alive. “I was worried!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My phone must’ve been on silent.” He took a thorough look at me, the tears welling up in my eyes, and he pulled me to his chest. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. But I’m OK, I promise,” he soothed, as he held me tight.

Eventually he let me go, and I escaped into the living room, desperately swiping at my face, angry at the tears that flowed. He thinks I’m pathetic, I thought, and I blew my red nose on a piece of tissue.

“This can’t be all about me not answering my phone, can it?” he asked as he came over to me.

I shrugged and blew out a noisy breath.

“Everything’s fucked,” I declared, “and I think I need your help.”

“Tell me,” he urged and planted his feet, his hands on his hips, his suit jacket parting at the motion.

“I got another notice from the bank. I’m three months behind on my mortgage payments. I have thirty days to get the money, or they’ll take the house.”

“Is that all?” he scoffed. I wanted to hit him but made do with swatting the air in front of him instead, my eyes on fire with fury. At least the tears were gone, I thought.

“Everything’s going to be fine. You won’t be kicked out of your home. I will make sure of that. And I have some news. But don’t get your hopes up, OK?”

It was my turn to demand answers. “Harvey, tell me,” I said as the first inklings of smile graced my face.

“Well, I reached out to some people who owed me a favour, and they got in touch with the right people at Bluelife Insurance, who have agreed to open the case back up and take a second look at the car wreckage. I was adamant that they send it to an unbiased, independent evaluator, a mechanic and engineer who specialises in this type of thing.”

I let out a sigh of relief, but the weight I felt on my shoulders didn’t loosen. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said gratefully and rushed towards him, threading my arms around his waist. “You don’t know how grateful I am for this,” I proclaimed and shot him a thankful look, “and what you do for me, the time you spend here, keeping me company and indulging me.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Besides,” he said and playfully poked me in the side, “when you’re not crying you’re a lot of fun.”

I giggled and sprang away from his touch as he started to tickle me.

“I’m sure you would do the same for me if I were in your position, anyway,” he continued.

“In a heartbeat. I’ll try to restrict the waterworks to when you’re not around. I just can’t help it. My emotions are all over the place these days.”

“I’m only teasing. Cry all you want. My shoulder’s right here for you,” he answered.

We spent the rest of the day hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. He insisted on doing a few jobs around the house for me despite my feeble protests.

“I can just call a plumber you know.”

“I’m here, though; you might as well use me. Plus it’s not like you can afford it.”

“Harsh, but true,” I replied.

I smiled at the sight of him hunched over, trying to fix the broken dishwasher, and I stifled a rush of giggles as I secretly drooled over his bare, muscular back. Not wanting to dirty his clothes, he’d stripped off his shirt to reveal a washboard of tanned abs, and instead he himself was becoming smeared with dirt and sweat. It was a delicious sight.

A dishcloth lay upon his thick shoulder, and beads of sweat glistened upon his skin as he worked. All of a sudden a squirt of water burst from the broken pipe, spraying him in the face. I didn’t bother smothering my laughter as he swore, his hair thoroughly soaked and his chest drenched. He turned around and patted his face with the clean towel I threw at him.

“I’m pleased you find amusement in my discomfort,” he said, grinning.

“You probably should’ve turned the water mains off first,” I teased.

“Ah. Yeah, that might’ve been wise.”

“You don’t know anything about dishwashers do you?” I said, feeling light and playful for the first time in days. I sat down cross-legged beside him on the floor and rested my chin upon a curled fist.

“Oh, ye of little faith. Now shh, let me think!”

I giggled and stayed quiet, watching intently as he prodded this gizmo and then the next, his fingers working within the tight space of the dishwasher’s mechanism. An hour passed before he managed to get it going and we heard the sound of whooshing water within the machine. I cheered him and he grinned, our eyes lingering upon one another. We were too close, our knees touching as we sat together on the floor. I could feel my heart beating in time with the swirling noise of dishwasher. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.