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It was as bad as kicking a puppy. I may as well have kicked him right in the balls. I hadn’t even considered he might have brought me down here so I could choose a scent I liked better than the obnoxious pine that churned my stomach.
I groaned out loud and buried my face in my hands. “Ugh, Zeph. Can you just argue back?”
He leaned on the shelving, blocking me from view of the other shoppers. “I suppose I could. Or you could just tell me what’s wrong.” He threw me a smile, even though I was being a bitch.
“You’re painfully nice.”
“That’s what’s wrong? I’m too nice to argue with you?”
I shook my head. My damn eyes felt like someone had rubbed them with sandpaper. “I just want someone else to make decisions for me once in a while. I have so many to make, all the damn time. What’s for dinner? What will Amelia wear for her daycare dress-up day? What am I going to do with my gran when she forgets me entirely?” A sob welled up in my throat at that thought, but I swallowed it down before it could set my eyes to watering. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Zeph. Not in front of anyone. Crying was something I didn’t do. Ever.
Zeph picked up the lemon-lime-scented cleaner and added it to his cart. He steered it wordlessly toward the checkouts and started scanning his purchases.
I followed along miserably, feeling like an asshole who was very probably going to lose her job.
When he’d finished paying, we went out to the parking lot, Zeph following me to my car. I opened it and slid behind the wheel.
He braced his hands above me on the doorjamb and leaned down so we were eye height. “Lyric.”
I didn’t even want to look at him. I’d yelled at the poor man. Not even just a man. A softly spoken priest, no less, in front of a supermarket full of people.
“Lyric. Look at me.”
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a growl of a demand that relaxed something inside me so much it was almost pleasurable.
I did as I was told. For once, I shut my mouth, didn’t argue back, and did as someone told me to.
His eyes were beautiful. I hadn’t really noticed them before, but the color was startling up close, a deep brown that was nearly as dark as his pupils. He smelled good too, like he’d showered before coming down here. The corner of my eye caught another tattoo creeping out of the neckline of his shirt.
Another one.
I so wanted to know how many he had. Whether they covered his body or if the one on his arm and this new one were his only two. I’d gotten a glimpse of him in the parking lot a few days back, but it hadn’t been enough to properly document his art collection.
“You’re not working tonight.”
His statement shook me out of my tattoo wondering. “No,” I confirmed. “It’s my night off from the club. I just have the church to do.”
He shook his head. “I know that. But that’s not what I meant. You’re taking the night off.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Don’t. You’re going to go home, run a bubble bath, soak in it, and then you’re going to go to bed. You’re going to sleep. For as long as you need to.”
I fought off a sigh, because that sounded like a luxury I could only dream of. But it couldn’t happen. “Amelia has daycare in the morning.”
“I’ll be there to get her ready and drop her off.”
I frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I had, but I just couldn’t quite comprehend the words. “Why?”
“Why?” He seemed confused. “Because you’re so exhausted and overwhelmed that you yelled at a priest in the middle of a supermarket.” The corner of his mouth flickered up cheekily.
I squinted at him. “I did do that, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “Can you please let me help? Amelia knows me. I’m at the daycare center every day. She won’t be scared. But I am scared of the state you’re working yourself into.”
“I’m fine.”
