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She has to stay. Where else will she go? Maybe if she does decide to stick around, I can talk her into going to the police. Captain Leopold is a good man; he’ll make sure she gets the help she needs.
With that, I continue washing the dishes. I’ve only made it another couple of seconds, though, before I hear the faint squeak of the door opening behind me.
Even though it goes against every instinct in my body to have my back to someone, I don’t turn. Because I get the feeling she’s spent a good chunk of her life not in control, and I want her to feel like she’s leading this moment.
She clears her throat. “I, uh, I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
Turning off the water, I dry my hands on a bar towel, then throw it over my shoulder and turn to face her. I lean back against the sink and cross my arms, wanting to look unimposing. It’s an active struggle for someone who has spent their life looking as big and intimidating as possible.
Her delicate frame is dwarfed by my clothes, but she stands tall. Confident. Her shoulders squared and not hunched forward.
“You’re not taking advantage of anything,” I say. “It was offered freely.”
“I don’t know how long I will be safe here.”
“No one is going to get to you so long as you’re here, Sadie. That, I can promise you.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You don’t even know who I’m running from.”
“Did you do something illegal?”
Fire flashes in her gaze. “Absolutely not.”
“Then I don’t care.” I push off the sink, though I keep my arms crossed. “No one is going to get to you here, Sadie. Stay and heal; then you can do whatever or go wherever you want.”
I can see that she wants to believe me. Wants to hope that she’s secure, but there’s so much fear there that it’s preventing her from hearing what I’m saying. She chews on her bottom lip, then winces when she remembers it’s been injured.
“I’m not a man unaccustomed to violence.” I speak quickly and fight to keep my tone level. Because with every bit of pain she shows, the fury I have toward whoever hurt her grows. “I was an Army Ranger who spent more time behind enemy lines than I spent on the home front. So believe me when I tell you that no one is going to come through my door and hurt you, Sadie.”
She swallows hard, her bottom lip trembling.
Oh no. Please don’t cry. I can’t do tears.
“You have to let me help you, too. There has to be something I can do around here.”
I consider, seeing clearly that she craves purpose. I was the exact same right after I got out of the hospital following the injury that nearly took my life and cost me my career. “What are your qualifications?”
“I’m a nanny.”
I arch a brow. “Not really something you’d put on a resume when applying at a bar.”
The ghost of a smile lifts the corners of her lips and hits me like a punch to the gut. She is gorgeous. But there’s something else there, too, a light that shines even though she’s battered and bruised.
“Meaning, I’m a good cook. I’ve spent the last seven years cooking and cleaning up after a family of seven.”
“I’m still not sure how that transfers over.”
“Let me cook and clean for you.”
“No. You’re injured.”
“Not so badly that I can’t help pull my weight. Let me cook and clean for you,” she repeats. “I can make you breakfast and lunch, then have dinner ready for you after you close down the bar. I can help clean up down here once everyone is gone and also clean up your apartment.”
Is she serious? The idea is appalling. No one has cleaned up after me since I was a toddler. Even as a teen, I was home alone, and I took over all the cooking and cleaning.
“I don’t need help.”
“But I do,” she replies. “And I won’t accept anything else from you for free. I don’t have money to pay you, but I can repay your kindness by helping for as long as I’m here. If you’re not comfortable with me in your apartment, I understand. Please, at least let me help with meals and down here.”
