Page 51 of Resist

So tell me why?

Because you’re three years older than my son, because I’m your boss, because it’s inappropriate, and because — for the first time in twenty-one years — I’m independent.

I debated texting that back to him when there was a knock on my door.

“Who the hell is that at this time in the morning?” I grumbled. It was too early for housekeeping. “Just a minute,” I called out, hobbling to the door and squinting through the peephole.

Standing on the other side was Lucas, holding a set of crutches, his head abnormally large due to the peephole distortion. My heart did a flip-flop/cartwheel combo in my chest — he looked adorable.Shit!I had to open the door; he already knew I was there, not that I could go far with my stupid toe.

Turning the handle, I pulled open the door, his musky, coconutty, Lucassy scent hitting me like a tornado. I sucked it in like a Dyson. “Hi.”

“I brought you these.” He lifted up the wooden crutches. “You’re gonna need them today.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I’ll be spending most of the day on the sofa, crunching numbers and working on the finer details of your new routine.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, no, you won’t.” He stepped toward me and stretched out his arm, holding the weight of the door. “You’re coming to the zoo with us.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh and swivelled to head back into my room. “No, I’m not.”

He followed me inside. “Yes, you are. It was written all over your face how much you wanted to go when Josh mentioned it last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucas.”

“That’s okay, because I do know what I’m talking about. I know you want to go, which is why I ordered a taxi for us. I don’t want you having to go up and down the steps on the bus.”

I spun to face him. “LUCAS!”

“It arrives in fifteen minutes so hurry up and get dressed.”

“I can’t go to the zoo.”

“Of course you can. They have wheelchairs. I’ll push you.”

I cracked up laughing. “Are you serious?”

Lucas propped the crutches against the dining room chair then approached me, his finger lightly trailing down the left side of my face. “I’m very serious.”

I stepped back. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Touch me,” I whispered, my eyes finding his lips again.

His eye twitched, but he moved away and placed his hands in his pockets. I waited for him to say something but no words left his mouth.

“What are you doing?” I asked, needing to say something.

“Waiting for you to get ready.”

“Shit! You really are serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

Realising I was still in my satin pyjamas, a sickening feeling hit me like a truck when I also realised I had not an ounce of makeup on. Every freckle, wrinkle, and dark circle under my eyes wasveryvisible.