to come upstairs with me and lie down.” Silver held out his hand, palm up.
Donovan reached into his jacket pocket then froze.
“You want me to what now?”
Silver gestured with his fingers for Donovan to relinquish the keys. “You’ll be coming with me up the stairs to my apartment. The lying down part you’ll be doing by yourself.”
Donovan dropped the keys onto Silver’s palm. “Bummer. But you had me going there for a sec.”
Silver snorted. If Donovan could manage to communicate once in a while without all the joking and not hide, then Silver thought they might stand a small chance of making something happen.
Might.
Chapter Nine
Donovan was stretched out on Silver’s futon—that also happened to double as a sofa—with one arm covering his eyes. Shielding them from light wasn’t the concern, but masking his expression while he pulled his thoughts together was.
He’d never been so scared in his life.
And what the fuck did he think he was doing anyway? If he chose to, he could go on deluding himself that getting Silver in the sack two or three times, then walking away, was still an option on the table. But not only had Silver made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t into hooking up, for once, neither was Donovan.
One year.
Donovan was on an untenable timeline, one that didn’t include getting into something real with Silver.
What am I worried about anyway?
He could decide to go all in and jump into the relationship game, determine Silver was the one and all that horseshit—but Silver would have to be on the same page as well. Doubtful. Just because he was a decent human being and was there for him because Donovan was having a bad day, his concern couldn’t possibly mean more than that. The truth was in how Silver had behaved all along. When Donovan was stuck on the side of the road, and even when Donovan had been rude to him, Silver had still taken the time after a long day at work to lend a hand.
Donovan grunted to himself. His family wouldn’t help a stranger on the side of the road if the future of the human race depended on it.
“How are you feeling? Any better?”
Donovan peeked up at Silver from beneath his arm. Jesus, the man was a spectacular work of art. His natural beauty captivated Donovan. But so did Silver’s body, his sexy accent, his skin that was like warm topaz—even the abundant tattoos. He’d never been a huge admirer of ink on men, probably because it wasn’t something he’d been exposed to all that much, but on Silver, the colorful pictures and designs were an enhancement.
“I am, thank you. The cuts still sting a bit, but my headache has gone away.”
“Good. I can grab another pillow if you need more support.”
Donovan let out a shaky laugh. While Silver’s tender care had him enraptured, it was also teetering on the edge of becoming too overwhelming.
“No. Thank you.” He leaned up on one elbow. “I’m actually ready to sit up.”
Silver’s brow creased, but he didn’t object. Instead, he leaned down to assist him. Donovan couldn’t meet his eyes, yet he couldn’t resist allowing Silver to help. The brief touch alone was worth it.
“Thank you again. You’re quite the host.”
“You’re welcome.” Silver plucked the pillow from the couch that Donovan had been using then stuffed it behind his shoulders. “If your headache returns, or you begin to feel nauseous, then be sure to lie back down.”
Silver grasped Donovan’s chin with thumb and forefinger then stared into his eyes. Donovan swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look away, even though his throat felt as if it was closing up and passing out might become a real concern. He sucked in a quick breath to verify he could still take in air, then noted how amazing Silver smelled.
The oil and tire smell that was ever-present in any garage environment, and he assumed in those who worked in one, was not at all the aroma Silver exuded. The odor of greasy engines had been abundant downstairs, and wasn’t abhorrent to Donovan—it being a reminder of one of the few things he loved—but he hadn’t been able to detect Silver’s true scent: masculine with a touch of sweat combined with an undertone of soap.
At last, Silver let him go and straightened. Donovan tamped down his irrational disappointment.
“I don’t think you have a concussion, but I can’t leave you alone. You’re welcome to stay the night so I can keep an eye on you.”
Donovan snorted before