Page 124 of Knot So Social

He’s a damn hero. I need to know more. “How do you and Willow know each other?”

Jeremy chews, the silence stretching between us until I’m quivering with the tension.

“I work for a heat service company.”

I straighten. “Oh, so it’s just a contract?”

Jeremy looks me dead in the eye. “No. It’s not.”

What I read there in his focused gaze says all the same things that are in my heart. I drop my head, nodding slowly. He’s big, ruggedly handsome, and clearly capable. A stud, if I ever saw one, and he wouldn’t be a heat helper if he wasn’t skilled in that department as well.

And here I am, being nursed in Willow’s spare bedroom because I got myself drugged and assaulted. “I feel so embarrassed.”

Jeremy gets up, grunting as he uses the kitchen bench to support himself. “I get it, but a victim’s a victim, no matter how it happens.” He dumps his dish in the sink and leans on it to look at me. “Actually, I owe you an apology. At first I thought you might’ve been using and overdosed or something.”

“Che cazzo?!” I cover my mouth. “I mean, no way. I wouldn’t touch the stuff.” My fork hovers in the air. “Whatever that “stuff” is.”

Jeremy snorts and rinses his plate. “Yeah, I know better now. Plus, your skin’s too clear for that shit.”

He glances over and when he finds me staring, he holds his dripping hands up. “I wasn’t trying to look. I don’t swing that way. No offense.”

“None taken; I’m the same.”

We share a nod, both relieved to have that clarified.

Jeremy lets out a guttural sigh before leaning back against the stove and crossing his arms.

“Look, I’m crazy about Willow, I’ll tell you that right now.” He skims one hand through the air. “Like, bona fide head over heels.” Jeremy winces and points down at his hip. “Literally.”

I chuckle.

He throws me a lop-sided smile. “But I’m not against sharing . . . with the right person who has her interests at heart.”

My heart tingles. “I just want her to be happy.”

He nods. “I can work with that.”

The need to be honest chokes me. “I don’t have much to offer. I mow lawns, and my English isn’t so good. And now . . .” I swivel on the stool to look out through the glass toward the fence. “Now I don’t even have a home.”

“Fuck. That’s rough.”

I nod as I turn back. “But my heart? It’s big and beats fiercely for her. Only her. I wasn’t out drinking or messing around. And I already told the lady no. I swear it by my father’s—”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “No need. I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He winces and shifts his bodyweight. “You didn’t smell of any of that stuff. All I smelled was fear.”

That makes sense.

“And as for not having much going for you? I think we share that trait.”

I scoff. “You? You’re tall, handsome, and cook. And you have a job.”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “This happened my first week on the job.” His breath catches and he inches across the galley space, brow furrowed from pain.

“Here.” I rise. “Come sit and tell me where to put things away.”