When I'm Gone(11)

I had just stepped outside when I felt a large hand wrap around my upper arm. “Not so fast. You want to leave, I’ll take you. You’re not walking.”

Mase wasn’t holding my arm tightly enough to make me panic, but the firm grip caused my heart rate to spike. I didn’t like to be grabbed. I managed to control my reaction. “I, uh, fine. OK. Thank you.” It was exhausting to argue with this man. He was going to win. I might as well give in.

He seemed pleased that I wasn’t going to put up a fuss. He dropped his hand and placed it on my back, as if to lead me toward his truck. I walked ahead of him fast enough so that his hand couldn’t rest against me. I didn’t like to be touched. Not like that, especially. Even though reminding myself how much I didn’t like to be touched wasn’t making the warm, tingly feeling on my back where his hand had been go away. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, just a new one. A very new one. Like, it had never happened until now.

Mase opened the truck door before I could reach for the handle, and he took my hand to help me up. Once again, I was in his truck, but this time, I knew more about him. That he was a good, well-loved brother. That he adored his sister. That he was Kiro Freaking Manning’s son.

Holy crap, that was insane.

When he was behind the wheel, I glanced over at him. His tall, muscular body was covered in a flannel shirt and faded, worn-out jeans. His thighs filled the jeans out well, and I could see the muscles flex.

“When you get home, put some of that salve on your wound that we got yesterday. It’ll soften the skin around it and ease the pain.”

“I will,” I assured him.

He nodded and reached for some sunglasses he had tucked into the sun visor and put them on. How did one look sexy while putting on sunglasses? Until that moment, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

“Do you need to call Jimmy and let him know you got a ride home?”

I shook my head. “No, I was walking home anyway. He has to work tonight.”

Mase scowled. “There is cab service around here, you know.”

I picked at the bandage and kept my gaze down. I didn’t want to give this man my life story to explain why a cab was pointless. I liked walking. It was what I’d always done.

Mase sighed when I didn’t respond. “Are you working tomorrow?” he asked.

I didn’t have a house to clean tomorrow. It was the day I went to the library and exchanged my books. I would take a walk on the beach and clean my apartment and buy groceries. It was my time for me. “No. I don’t work tomorrow.”

“Good.”





Mase


Two days after I took Reese home from Harlow’s, I was still wondering about her. Worrying about her damn hand and her walking everywhere. I was trying like hell to shake it. She wasn’t my responsibility.

Harlow handed me Lila Kate after she rescued her from her car seat. I held the little miracle baby close in my arms, because she was still so stinking tiny. And the way Grant hovered over her like she might break made me think she just might. I was careful.

“You carry her. I’ll get the diaper bag,” Harlow said, reaching for the large bag full of Lila Kate’s traveling supplies. The bag was bigger than the baby.

“We’re just going to meet the Finlays for lunch. She really needs all that stuff for the whole two hours we’re gone?” I asked, wondering how it was possible that Lila Kate required a bag that big.

Harlow just grinned and put the strap over her arm, then locked up the expensive SUV our father had given them when Lila Kate was born. “Let’s go.”

I followed Harlow toward the entrance. “Why didn’t we just use the valet?” I asked, thinking it would have been easier.

“Because it takes a while to get Lila Kate and all her stuff loaded. I hate holding up the line.”

I glanced at the valet, and there was no one there. I didn’t comment, though.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Carter, Mr. Manning,” the guy at the door said, as he opened it wide for us to enter.

I wasn’t a member of the Kerrington Club, but Harlow, Rush, my father, Rush’s father, and, of course, Nan were all members. I think people assumed I was, too.

“Mrs. Carter, Mr. Finlay and his wife are already seated in the back room. You’ve been given privacy,” the hostess said, before we even reached her. We followed her through the dining room into a room with three glass walls overlooking the gulf and tennis courts.

Blaire stood up immediately and made her way to me. She wasn’t coming for me, though. That much I knew.

“Give her to me.” Blaire all but squealed, holding out her arms for Lila Kate.