Touch Me, Daddy

7 - Tessa.

Things get to a head a week later, after Greg drives me home from another late shift.

"s**t," I cuss as I rummage in my backpack for my keys, hissing and blaming myself for being so forgetful. Because I always lose my keys in my bag, it always takes me forever to find them, but this time...

I dig harder, sweat prickling on my lower back. God, I'm tired. Swaying on my feet.

Across the driveway, Greg pauses by his own front door.

"I've got it," I call, since I don't want him waiting out here while I scrabble around like an i***t. "I've definitely got them. They're here somewhere."

Greg grunts and lets himself into his house, the door closing with a snap. But he must have known on some level that I'm full of it, because when I stomp over there and knock on his door ten minutes later, it flies open right away.

"You left them at work?"

He's already jiggling his own keys, getting ready to drive me back again. There's no anger on his face, no irritation. If anything, he seems eager to get back on his bike.

He's a level-headed saint with kind eyes and a sandy red beard.

"I, um." Maybe Greg won't be so patient when he realizes exactly how dumb I've been. When he hears the favor I'm going to ask. "Victoria will have locked up for the night. She turns her phone off at home. I won't be able to get back into the cafe." My neighbor has turned to stone, but I force the next question between numb lips. "Could I... could I sleep in your garage?"

Blue eyes stare at me. A muscle leaps in Greg's temple.

"In my garage," he says flatly.

Yes. God. I'm being such a pain in the ass, and of course he doesn't want me in there. He's got so much valuable stuff in there for his work, rare motorcycle parts and fancy tools—

"In my garage."

I wince, squeezing my backpack straps. My burly neighbor is so big, he fills the doorway with his tense shoulders. "I won't touch anything, I swear. And it's so hot I wouldn't even need a blanket, just a spot to curl up."

Greg curses loudly and swings his front door wide. Before I can register what's happening, a big hand grips my elbow, tugging me inside.

"You're not sleeping in my f*****g garage, Tessa. I'll sleep in there if someone really needs to, but you think I'm gonna let you curl up out there? Make a nest with the spiders and paint cans? f*****g hell."

He's annoyed. And okay, that's fair—Greg didn't ask for any of this. He already drove me home from work tonight, and things have been weird between us for weeks now. Of course he's mad.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

Greg growls and stomps away down his hall. I trail after him, miserable and exhausted, and yeah, maybe I should've slept out in the desert. Taken my chances with the heat and the snakes.

Some part of my brain remembers to look around, though. To soak up all the details of Greg's house, since I've never stepped foot in here. He's never come into my place, either, come to think of it. We're strictly driveway buddies.

No wonder he's so pissed. I'm breaking all our rules. Changing our dynamic.

"I could call a friend," I offer, my voice bouncing off white walls hung with vintage movie posters and contemporary art. I'm staring around so much, my eyes are going dry, because Greg's place is nice. So grown up and cool. There's a framed schematic drawing of some kind of engine, and a potted cactus nearly taller than me. "I'm sure Kamran and Vee would let me crash on their couch."

Greg's voice rumbles out of the kitchen. I follow it inside, blinking at the sparkling white tiles and shiny appliances. "You're not going anywhere, Tessa." My viking of a neighbor turns around and places a glass of iced water on the island, and those blue eyes bore into me. "If you're uncomfortable, I'll leave."

Uncomfortable? Why would I be uncomfortable?

I mean, besides the obvious reasons. Like my terrible, all-consuming crush on this man, and his complete obliviousness. Plus the strain between us lately.

But I'd never want Greg to leave so I could stay here. Hell, I never feel safer than when he's near, and I'm tired enough to blurt that out.

Greg's scowl softens. His hand twitches toward me, but he pulls it back. Shoves it in his pocket.

"You'll take the bed," he rumbles, and his tone is so much gentler now. Those piercing eyes are still fixed on me, still pinning me to the spot, but there's something else there too. Something hidden behind his eyes that I can't make sense of. Heat, maybe, or longing. So many words unsaid. "I'll sleep downstairs."

"But—"

Greg raises a huge palm. "No buts. You're so tired you look ready to pass out, honey."

Honey.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Sure, I was tired when I knocked on his door. I was exhausted when I trailed inside, feeling like the world's neediest, most annoying neighbor, but now that Greg's finally watching me with warmth again, I'm suddenly refreshed. Blooming to life like the tiny purple flowers on the desert sage.

I spin the glass of water between my palms. Take a sip under his stern gaze.

Lord.

I love this feeling. Love him taking care of me. It sends sparks raining through my insides.

Because ever since I was a teenager, nursing my grandpa in his last years, suddenly the sole caretaker in a bewildering world... I've forgotten what it feels like to be looked after. To feel cherished.

I do everything for myself. Everything. I do every chore, pay every bill, make every appointment, cook every meal. And I'm super proud of that fact, but some days I'm also so freaking tired.

"Will you put me to bed?" I don't know what flash of insanity makes me ask that, and I stiffen as soon as the words leave my mouth. But Greg stares at me, his chest rising as he sucks in a deep breath, and for one long, shivering moment, it's like the earth tilts beneath us. Like everything realigns.

I know he's going to agree before he says anything. Know that he craves this too.

My older neighbor is going to give me what I need.

He nods once, his bearded chin dipping. "Of course. Finish that water first."

-------------

The stairs creak under Greg's bulk. He leads the way, one palm sliding up the wooden banister, and I trip along behind him, a fresh glass of water clutched in one hand. My backpack rustles against my back, the canvas rubbing against my shoulders.

"You want a bath first?" Greg asks, so casual.

I suck in a sharp breath, because oh my god, yes. It hadn't even occurred to me, but yes, I want that more than anything. I'm so sticky and aching. I want to be clean.

Greg's pleased chuckle makes my stomach swoop. "I'll draw you one now." The floor creaks as he leads down a carpeted hall and into a large bathroom, a huge window open to the midnight sky, speckled with stars.

There's a blind, but it's not drawn. My neighbor grunts, nodding at the window. "I can pull that down if you like, but there's nothing out there but the desert. Don't think anyone will see."

Even if some late-night hiker did look up at this window, what would they glimpse? Me and my older neighbor, my smaller body perched on the edge of the bath as he looms over, twisting the faucets. As he tests the temperature of the water and hands me bottles of bubble bath to sniff.

"Pick your favorite."

I twist the cap off a bottle that says tea tree and mint. Yeah, that's perfect. Cooling and tingly and fresh.

Will Greg stay in here while I wash? I wait, breath hitched up and toes scrunched against the tiles, but once the bath is full, he twists the faucets off and straightens up.

"I'll change the bed sheets for you and leave a towel and shirt for you to sleep in by the door. I'll wait in the bedroom, alright?"

Damn. Okay.

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. What am I gonna say: please watch me get naked, Greg? Please shampoo my hair?

"I'll be quick," I say instead.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles. "No rush."

Each step groans along the hallway outside. I wait until the bedroom door creaks open, then bury my flushed face in my hands.