Vulture (a Stepbrother Romance) -(34)

I smiled. It was the perfect name—minty black and white hard-boiled sweets that match the colours of his patchy coat. Plus, of course, it was Christmas soon. “I think it suits him. It is a him, right?”

Harvey twisted his lips and shrugged, “I believe so. I didn’t exactly go prodding down there, seemed rude.”

I laughed and brought the little guy up to my face. His eyes were a little runny, nothing some meds wouldn’t sort out. His little paws, tiny pink pads on the underside, waved in front of my face, booping me on the nose. “I think he likes me.”

“He’s yours if you want him. I think you need him, and he certainly needs you, Sara.”

Was he talking about the kitten or something else? No, I was reading far too much into his words.

I shook my head and couldn’t help the line that marred my forehead. “But how on earth can I afford to keep a kitten when I can barely function, or feed myself? Not to mention the likely possibly that’ll I’ll be homeless soon.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want that, and I’ve been meaning to bring this up anyway. What with your mother’s passing, I forgot all about it, but how about this?” He took my hand in his after I’d let Humbug down to scamper around our feet on the rug. “I’ll make you a deal. You take the kitten in, give him a good home, look after him, and I’ll give you a job at my company.”

Sceptical, I narrowed my eyes at him. “That doesn’t sound like a very fair deal—for you, I mean. I get an adorable kitten and a job? Win-win for me… What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “I need the help, and there’s plenty of work to go around. I just landed another contract. But if you’re not interested, I’ll take my kitten and leave,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, his hand outstretched as he reached to grab Humbug, who darted away from his grasp at the last second.

“Pfft, over my dead body. Humbug’s mine now. What’s the job?”

“My secretary.”

“Ha!” I blurted. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m not that bad to work for.”

“Yeah, sure, totally undemanding, not wanting everything your own way all the time…”

“I do like things a certain way,” he huffed. This was clearly not the reaction he was hoping for, I thought, but I was only teasing. “So, do you want the job or not?”

My head reeled for a moment, and my heart pounded against my chest at his dangerous proposal—but dangerous for whom? Me, or my heart? I was so dazed and lost in my own thoughts that I barely heard him say, “It’s good pay, Sara. I’ll even loan you some money to pay off your missed mortgage bills.”

I stared up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t be silly, Harvey. That’s too much! I don’t think I could take your money, not like that.”

He shrugged, and his fingers tightened around mine. “Nonsense. You’re family, and you’re not exactly taking it from me. I’ll lend it to you, and you can pay me back later on if you want. I’m an idiot for not offering sooner; I could’ve saved you weeks of worry.”

“I probably wouldn’t have accepted, anyway,” I replied.

“I want to help you in any way that I can, Sara,” Harvey insisted, “and I can’t do that if you won’t let me. You’ve got to let someone help you. You’ve got to start letting someone in…”

I looked at him again with narrowed eyes; we were no longer talking about the job or the money or the house. His words vaguely touched upon something else. I swallowed a rising thickness in my throat.

“You’ve helped me plenty already. I don’t think I can keep doing this to you,” I muttered and avoided meeting his gaze.

But he wouldn’t allow me off the hook; he took my chin with his thumb and forced me to look at him. “You aren’t doing anything to me… I want to be here. I want to help you. I promised I’d be here for you, remember? Let me do this for you. Let me in. I’ll be at your side whenever you need me. Always.” He spoke in a whisper, his lips close to mine. I felt my head spin. Oh god, oh god. My heart was fluttering out of control; it was as if he was swearing an oath to me, and I couldn’t help the rush of tears that started to well up or the feeling—instinct, really—that I should lean in and kiss him. In the heat of the moment, I desperately wanted to. His hand was upon my chin, and his eyes were searching my soul; I so desperately wanted to meet his lips with my own. Oh god, what do I do?