Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,18

wanting to sound ungrateful. Yeah, her roommate was a pain sometimes, but she was also the one who had picked up the slack without a single complaint the last two times Georgia had been late coming up with the money for her part of the bills. “It’s going to feel great being able to have breathing room. Money in the bank. Parents who are proud of me.”

Her voice broke a little at that. She glanced at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed, but he was watching her, silent and waiting. His eyes said nothing was going unnoticed.

“I bet they’re plenty proud of you right now,” he countered.

If she’d ever said such a thing in front of her mother or father, they’d have rushed to assure her how wrong she was. Such assurances would have carried more weight, though, if only she’d done something for them to be proud of. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single thing, except being the first in her family to graduate from college.

And now she was working at Red Robin.

Georgia dropped her gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure,” she lied. “At least they don’t know I propositioned a stranger for auto repairs. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be too proud about that.”

“Do you suppose that’s because they might think you’re worth more than that?”

So much for the lecture portion of the evening being over.

She scowled. It was an uncomfortable question, definitely not one she wanted to think about, much less answer. She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and hoped he’d drop it. He did—sort of.

Leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees, he took the bag of now mostly thawed peas off her ankle, once more propped up on a pillow between them. It looked awful—swollen, slight bruising, definitely twisted. So long as she didn’t move it, though, it didn’t hurt too badly. It had even stopped throbbing, for the most part.

“Do you think you can stand up?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” She had to be. She only had the one pair of shoes, and she still had the interview to get through. Nothing was going to stop her from walking into that Human Resources office long enough to land that job. Nothing.

She just had to get there.

Getting up, he walked into the kitchen long enough to place the peas in the fridge. Whatever he had for dinner tomorrow would probably include them—just another incremental amount of money she cost him. She felt badly—until he looked at her.

Subtly, the atmosphere between them seemed to change, growing heavy. So did the silence as he turned to the sink and deliberately washed, then dried his hands. Not that he was different when he came back to her. He was still the same guy, the same nice, handsome, quiet, calm person she’d been having dinner with, but it was weird how the air had become between them. He seemed more purposeful in every line of his lean body. He felt almost… predatory—all lean hips, strong hands, and sinewy forearm muscles, with those prominent, masculine veins that showed off his strength as he pulled his chair around to her side of the table.

Dinner was definitely over. If he sat down, his back would be to the table. The only thing he could have reached for—the only thing he reached for—was her.

“Let’s get you up.” He offered his waiting hand. It had to be a trick of her imagination that made it seem bigger and much harder than before. “Be careful how you move. I don’t want you hurting yourself any more than you already have.”

The air charged even more. Energy crackled in the tiny hairs that prickled to stand on the back of her neck as she ignored his waiting hand. She couldn’t bring herself to take it, so she pretended not to see it. She dropped her gaze to her lap and accidentally, her napkin to the floor. Removing her foot from its little pillow, a slow throb started up her leg the instant she lowered her heel to the floor. He pushed the extra chair aside, so it wouldn’t be a tripping hazard. Grabbing the back of her own seat and the edge of the table for balance, she rose. With all her weight balanced on one leg, refusing to take his hand, she shifted until she faced him. She looked down, but all she could see was the waiting expanse of his very capable lap stretched out before her.

“Come here,” he