Something in my voice, or perhaps the way I studied her, caused a telltale flush on the crest of her cheeks, and I tried not to feel too smug about it. Tearing her gaze from mine, she wrapped the ends of the tea towel around my ankle so the ice pressed up against the swollen area without me having to hold it.
“You’re an angel,” I said as she handed me a coffee and a wee plate of snacks.
Arro straightened and looked down at me in a way I didn’t quite understand, until suddenly, I recognized her expression. It was a look I thought I’d never see again. “I’m not the angel, Mackennon. You pushed me out of the way of a car tonight. If it had hit me, I wouldn’t have been able to land like a bloody ninja like you or get out of its way fast enough when he came back. I’d probably be dead. You saved my life. Thank you.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “You never need to thank me for that, Arro.”
She chuckled, blinking back tears. “Actually, Mackennon, anytime you save my life, I’m going to thank you. It’s just bloody polite, you know.”
Arro’s eyes lit up at the sound of my laughter, and for a moment, I felt a prickle of hope.
But as if realizing the pull between us was stronger than ever, she abruptly stopped smiling, grabbed her own coffee, and sat primly in her armchair. “I wonder what’s on telly,” she said, her voice a little too high as she reached for the remote.
ARRO
* * *
With a groan, I flipped off my duvet, threw my legs over the side of the bed, and sat up. Exhaustion clung to me as I buried my face in my hands and remembered the events of the night before.
I still couldn’t believe Mackennon had pushed me out of the way of a moving vehicle.
And since when was he Mackennon again? I scowled.
Since he saved my life.
That sort of thing softened you toward a person.
Damn the man! I could actually feel him in the house, I was so aware of his presence. It had taken ages to fall asleep because of the adrenaline, and now the morning light pouring through the crack in my curtains had woken me at the break of dawn.
Coffee.
I needed coffee.
And to check on Mac. He couldn’t have had a decent sleep on the couch. I’d told him to take one of the kids’ beds in the guest room, but he said the living room was a better central point for him to keep guard.
Hopefully, soon the whole need for a guard would be moot when they found the arsehole behind this craziness.
Glancing in my mirror to make sure I was decent, I considered changing my sleep shorts into jogging bottoms but decided if my attire made Mac uncomfortable, he’d have to deal with it. It was just a pair of shorts. And my T-shirt was decent, except for the lack of bra.
I should put on a bra.
Pee first, then bra.
That decided, I opened my bedroom door and stepped into the hall, about to cross to the bathroom when its door opened.
Mac froze at the threshold when he saw me and then relaxed. “Morning. Sleep all right?”
Of course, he was awake at the arse crack of dawn.
And he’d showered.
His hair curled by his ears, droplets dripping onto his bare shoulders into a glistening trail down his naked chest, over his hard pecs, past the three scars in his upper torso, zigzagging over his muscular abdominals before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. His jeans hung low enough to reveal the defined V-cut of his obliques.
The fucker.
Mac raised his arm, and I noted the towel in his hand before my gaze was drawn to his flexing biceps as he dried his hair.
The bastard.