Page 48 of Hell of a Mess

He had no idea what a big deal that had been for me.

He shook his head. “That’s not enough, Lace.” Thedisappointment in his tone made me wish I could go back and eat more. “How am I going to let you move to Mal’s if you’re not eating?”

Move to Mal’s? What? I didn’t want to move. I didn’t know Mal.

“I don’t…” I started to tell him that, but I stopped because maybe he wanted me to go.

He was ready to hand me off to the man who was my father. I sat up, wincing as I did so from the sudden movement. How did I get him to let me stay here?

“Easy,” he said gruffly, noticing my wince.

“I don’t know Mal,” I told him.

“Yeah, but you need to get to know him.”

Tears stung my eyes. “I want to stay here.”With you. “I can help Jayda. I can cook, and I can clean.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Sure, you can with cracked ribs and a fractured wrist. Besides I’m not letting you work at this house. You’re a Bowen, for God’s sake.”

That sounded so odd. I’d been a Halsten, and I had hated it, just as I had come to hate the man who carried that last name.

“I don’t want to leave.” I stopped when my voice cracked, and a tear slid down my cheek.

“Lace,” he said, “look at me.”

It was instinct to obey him, but I didn’t want him to see me crying. I shook my head and tried to wipe the tears without him seeing what I was doing.

“Are you crying?” he asked as his fingers curled around my upper arm and tugged me toward him.

He leaned forward so that he could see my face. I tried to turn the other way, but he pulled me closer to him, into his earthy scent mingled with leather and smoke. I inhaled deeply, loving that smell.

“Why are you crying?” he asked me.

Oh, because I’m a baby. One you want to get rid of, and I am giving you more reason to do it.

I shrugged, not trusting my voice to speak.

“Dammit, Lace. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes and met his. There was concern there, but I also saw regret.

“You want to stay here?” he asked.

I nodded.

“You’re crying because you don’t want to go?”

I nodded again.

He blew out a breath. “Fuck,” he muttered, then let go of my arm. “What am I going to do with you? Mal doesn’t want you here—with me specifically.”

I didn’t care what Mal wanted. “Why?” I asked.

He smirked. “I’m not a good man, sugar. I’m actually the last man anyone would trust to take care of someone.”

“You are good,” I argued. “You saved me.”

He rubbed his face with both hands and groaned, then laid his head back against the tall headboard. “Yeah, well, that was a onetime thing. A first for me. But you were a female who was hurt. And you looked so damn broken and helpless.”