He scowled. “That bastard. Excuse my language. I won’t let him hurt you again, I promise.”
“What about my job? How will I work?”
“You’re not going back there, Marisol. It’s not safe. You’re going to need to stay here on the ranch for me until we figure out whether Tiger is going to come for you. Hopefully Ed can scare him away, although I have my doubts.”
So did she. She nibbled at her lip.
“Were you happy at that job? Did you like it?”
“No,” she whispered. “I only did it because that’s what my aunt wanted. But I’m kind of an introvert. Being around people all day exhausted me.”
“Then it’s no big loss to go back.”
“I just feel bad about leaving everyone in the lurch.”
“Your aunt could always cover for you.”
Right. That would never happen.
He pulled out a chair for her, pushing her in. The chair must have been made for a damn giant because her feet didn’t even touch the ground when she was seated on it. She had to scoot forward to the edge and even then, the table was kind of high.
So embarrassing.
“This won’t do. You could use a highchair.”
Umm. She had to have heard him wrong. Right?
“Did you say a higher chair?” she asked. “Any higher and I will need a stepladder to get on it. Is all your furniture made for giants?”
He opened his mouth, a twinkle in his eyes.
“And no short jokes,” she told him sternly, holding up a single finger.
To her shock, he leaned over and took her finger into his mouth, sucking on it strongly. Holy. Shit. That sent an answering shockwave down to her clit.
He let go of her finger with a small plop. “No pointing your finger at me.”
Her heart was beating too rapidly for her to answer. For her to do anything but stare at him. “I’ll go get something for you to sit on.” He turned away, walking towards the door. Then he turned back, giving her a cheeky grin.
Uh-oh.
“And no, I didn’t say a higher chair. I said highchair. I’m sure the same place that does booster seats can make those too.”
She just sat there, staring after him. Even when he walked back in, cushion in hand, she was still staring.
“Stand.”
After she stood, he set the cushion down on the seat. She sat and he pushed her chair in for her. Sitting across from her, he reached over and tapped her plate. “You need to eat.”
She ate a couple of mouthfuls. Guilt swirled in her stomach, making it hard to swallow. He was taking such good care of her. It just made her feel worse.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on,” she blurted out, needing to apologize again. “And that I lied about my wrist.”
He gave her a firm look. “You know how I felt about lies.”
She nodded miserably. “I know.”
“And I hate knowing that I had no idea of what you went through. Of how bad things were for you. Keeping something that big from me, it can’t happen again, Marisol.”