“You didn’t need to walk me home,” she said when they mounted her porch. “I could have made it this far.”
“I wanted to. Is that so bad?” He shook most of the water from the umbrella, then set it on the porch to dry. “You’re a caretaker. I know you pushed Colette when her and Dash were dancing around one another. You stole Lilah away when she needed to breathe. You’re there in small, secret ways for everyone.” He brushed a knuckle over her cheek. “Let me be that for you.”
Thick lashes brushed her cheeks as she dropped her eyes. Her scent turned to a complicated mix he could hardly pick apart. Worry and concern soured the juniper and rain. Happiness bubbled to the surface. She swung back down with hesitation, and up again with delight.
Her eyes stayed lowered as she turned the knob and swung open the door.
Rhys’s heart nearly stopped in his chest when her lashes fluttered upward and green eyes met his.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked softly.
Chapter 18
Sage stepped through her door to the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Her skin buzzed with electricity, ready to jolt against the next thing she touched.
Behind her, the door shut tight.
She turned to face Rhys, stomach twisting round and round. Caretaker, he called her. He didn’t throw the word out and hoped it stuck, either. He came armed with examples she couldn’t deny.
It’d become clearer than ever how much he paid attention. Not that the others were blind and uncaring, but Rhys watched for more than the big things. He knew she helped where she could manage. He knew about her scar. There wasn’t any sense in hiding the broken she’d felt over the last forever, or how it still spilled into her life.
He swept a look over the tight quarters of living, dining, and bedroom areas. When he didn’t say a word, only quirked an eyebrow in question, she shrugged. “I turned my bedroom into a dance studio because I couldn’t stand to sleep in there after everything.”
Her lifted chin dared him to press for more, but he surprised her. “You dance?”
“Ballet. Ages five to twenty-three.”
“And twenty-eight to whenever you want to stop.”
The casual confidence toyed with her emotions. She desperately wanted to believe, but so much evidence otherwise piled up around her. Tracks on the ground and her father’s threats of consequences shook her to her core. “You can’t know that,” she said, ducking her face.
“You said that before.” He stepped closer. “Can I see it?”
She blinked at him, trying to figure out what exactly he meant. He was so close, he made the conversation hard to follow. Not because she was scared, she realized. Her heart tripping in her chest had nothing to do with fear.
His brows lifted, and he darted a look toward the hall.
She hesitated. It was one thing to share what she’d been doing in her free time, and entirely another to show it off.
He was a secret keeper, he said.
Sage dragged down a deep breath, relishing the sweetness of spicy mocha in his scent, then let it go slowly. Fur brushed against her mind, adding an extra hint of encouragement. “Yeah. Sure. If you want.”
Butterflies lifting off with a thousand, tickling wings, she turned on her heels and made her way past her kitchen with a missing stool along the eat-in counter. She didn’t even flick a glance at her bathroom door. Her hand shook as she pressed it to the knob, but she didn’t give herself any time to reconsider before shoving the door wide open.
She stayed on the edge of the doorway, back against the wall as Rhys poked his head inside.
“It’s not much,” she rambled. A hand pressed to her stomach did nothing to calm her nerves or quiet her tongue. “The floor could be better, of course. Bars instead of a kitchen stool would be nice. For something cobbled together, it’s not so bad. Not a real studio, but it works.” She hesitated, then admitted, “I know it’s mine and I can make it however I want it to be, but there’s something off that I can’t put my finger on.”
“There isn’t another exit.”
She took a step back and jerked her eyes to meet his face.
“Wherever you go, you always check out the exits,” he continued with a shrug as if it was the most obvious observation in the world. Maybe to a man so invested in watching her, it was. “If one isn’t easy to reach, you put yourself as close as possible to the next. And unless you’re planning on diving through the window, that makes the door leading into a cramped hallway your only escape.”
“How do you know all that?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. He was a watcher. He’d been watching her since she’d arrived.
He flashed her a smile, then turned back to the room. “Say the word, and I’ll throw someone through the wall. Lindley’s already fixed one hole like that. You can have him add a door while he’s at it.”
Sage snorted. “I’ll keep it in mind. I’m sure my brother would love to know you’re volunteering him for extra work.”
“I do what I can to make his life difficult,” he said with a shrug. “Why here? Isn’t there a place in town?”
There he was again, picking up on the things she kept buried deep.
“I’m still working up to that. Still working on a lot of things. Being around people…” she trailed off and looked at him from the corner of her eye. So close, she needed to turn her head to scale the mountain of his muscled arm and shoulder.
And that wasn’t the only thing she wanted to climb.
Cheeks heating, she dropped her eyes again. “It’s hard, sometimes. I get overwhelmed easily. Touch is hard because I still expect it to
