I head into the kitchen and take out a packet of chicken breasts I’m going to cook. “You aren’t going to get all righteous on me about sex, are you, Chester?”
She rolls her eyes and follows. “Don’t worry, I’m not clutching my pearls. I’m just reminding myself why I’m glad we didn’t hookup.”
The chicken package lands on the counter with a slap, as her words punch through me. It’s surprisingly painful knowing that she thinks I’m a bad bet. And yet… “So you have to remind yourself, eh?”
A pretty pink flush colors her cheeks. “I’m here at your house. You’re you. Can you blame me for being guarded?”
Now I’m pissed. I feel it rising, and I grind my teeth against the urge to snap at her. My hand spreads wide on the cool counter, as I take a deep breath. But then I catch a good look at Chess. She seems smaller somehow, tightly coiled within herself, her expression wane and her eyes a little wild.
“Are you trying to pick a fight?” I ask. Despite her prickliness, I know she’s fragile right now.
For a second, it looks as if she might snap at me, but her shoulders sag on a breath and she puts her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. I’m all persnickety, and… I don’t know what I’m saying. Ignore me.”
I want to give her a hug, but she holds herself tight, eyeing me as if she might cut and run. “You need to get back to normal, is all.”
She nods, but there’s no energy left in her.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” I say. “Let’s have lunch—”
“Lunch?” She makes an amused sound. “It’s only eleven.”
“Elevenses, then,” I amend. “I basically eat like a hobbit.”
Her lips twitch as she cranes her neck and peers over the center island that stands between us.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a laugh.
“Checking out your feet.”
I wiggle my toes, still encased in sneakers. “They aren’t hairy, but they’re very large.” I lift a brow. “I’m well-proportioned.”
Chess scoffs, but she’s no longer slumped in defeat. “Yes, I know, big guy. I’ve seen you naked, remember?”
“How can I forget when you keep bringing it up?” I can get naked now, if you join me. “If I didn’t know better, Ms. Copper, I’d think you were fixating.”
“Good thing you know better.” Chess rounds the kitchen island and comes up beside me. She’s so slight, compared to me, her wrists delicate and fine. The black cast covering her right one is bulky, running up over her hand, leaving only her fingers free. I don’t miss the bruising on her forearm, and the way she’s been limping makes me believe she has bruises elsewhere.
I want to demand that she show me her hurts, let me gather her up and tuck her back in bed, where I’ll feed her lunch, rub her sore muscles, do anything she wants. But I know she’ll refuse. And I don’t think it would ease her worries, which is what she truly needs right now. Never mind the fact that, if I get into a bed with her, my control will crack; no way can I hold her now and not keep my hands at neutral.
I push the thought of exploring Chess out of my mind. “So after elevenses, we’ll go and buy you a new camera and some equipment. Get you set back up for work.”
She rests her slender fingers on the edge of the counter. “Thanks, but I don’t get a check from the insurance for a few weeks.”
“Which is why I’m buying.”
A frown works over her face, and I lift a hand. “You can pay me back when you get your check.”
“Or I can wait,” she argues. “I’m already staying here. You bought me clothes. I can’t take more—”
“Chester, I make an obscene amount of money and spend it on very little. You and I both know that. So let’s not pretend you’re putting me out monetarily.”
“We’re talking about nearly thirty-thousand dollars of equipment, Finn.”
“I am aware. Makes no difference to me.” When she rolls her eyes, I lean in. “Helping you get back on even ground makes me happy. All right?”
“Maybe I don’t want to be on even ground. Maybe I want to mope.”
I don’t buy it for a second. I see the anticipation in her eyes. The girl is dying to get a camera back in her hands. “Too bad. The House of Mannus also has an anti-moping law in effect. Violators are subject to noogies and loss of TV time for one day.”
Chess looks at me as if I’m full of it. Which I am. But she clearly likes that. “Any more rules I should know?”
“They’re all in the playbook located on your bedside table.” I open the fridge and pull out some roasted beets, goat cheese, and bulgur salad.
Chess watches me with bemused interest. “This looks…elaborate. You cooked all this?”
“I can cook the basics, but the team’s nutritionist has a chef on staff who sets us up with a few of our weekly meals. You know, elevenses, lunch, second lunch, and so on.”
The doorbell rings, cutting off whatever Chess wants to say. I hustle to get it and find Charlie, box in one hand, a massive bouquet of flowers in the other. The spray of orange roses is so big, I can barely see his head. “Charles,” I say, as I let him in. “You shouldn’t have. I’m more of a plant man.”
Before Charlie can give me shit back, Chess walks in and makes a sound of wonder. “Wow.”
Charlie steps past me like I’m not even there. “These are for you.” He sets the ridiculous bouquet on the hall table because it’s too damn big for her to hold. “They’re from the offensive team.”
My guys went in on flowers and didn’t tell me? Those little ass-kissing shits. I could have told them that Chess isn’t the type to get impressed by flowers—
“Oh!” Her face glows with pleasure. “How lovely.”
Wait. What?
“Well,” I say, trying not to grind my teeth. “That’s how we do.”
Chess sniffs a rose, as she reads the card that’s covered in signatures. “Stop trying to get a gold star, Finnegan. I don’t see your name on here.”