Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(11)

Mr. Fletcher blanches, his hands turning to fists as his eyes cast downward. He clears his throat, looking mildly less angry now. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to…” He pauses and looks away, giving me a profile view of his chiseled jaw. He has a lot of nerve being so attractive while being a class A dickhole. “I looked up from my desk just as Everly pulled you in, and I didn’t think. I just reacted.”

His face looks tortured, and now I feel bad for being mad at the man trying to save my life. This whole ordeal is probably a fireable offense for this guy.

I cross my arms over my chest and swallow nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t inform you I’m not a strong swimmer. I assumed that Everly being on a swim team meant the odds of me needing to save her were slim to none. But I must inform you that the job application never said I needed lifeguard training.”

Mr. Fletcher pinches the bridge of his nose. “An unforgivable oversight on my part.”

He looks like he’s already made his decision, and I feel horrible. I already unpacked all my shit. And I love that tiny house. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived in. My sister is going to lose her shit on me if I come crawling back to her house after one day on the job.

I wiggle my earlobe to drain some water out of it and wince when I feel an ache on the back of my head.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath and moves to stand behind me. “Did you hit your head going in? You might be concussed.” He reaches up to inspect my injury, causing me to shiver as the warmth of his body presses against my back. I’m suddenly feeling light-headed for a whole different reason.

“I’m fine,” I croak, catching myself from leaning into his body for comfort. I try to step away, but he annoyingly follows. “I’m not bleeding, am I?”

I reach back to touch the injured area, and his fingers brush over mine as his other hand rests on my waist for purchase. His fingers press into my curves, holding me in place, and I have to swallow my gasp as a current of heat damn near explodes between my legs.

His voice is soft and velvety when he replies, “No open wound that I can see, but you have a decent goose egg.”

I lick my lips and nod. “Your kid is stronger than she looks.”

Mr. Fletcher exhales through his nose. “That was horribly reckless of her. Everly knows better.” His tone is scathing, and I suddenly wish it was directed at me again, not Everly. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t know you were hurt. We should get this looked at. My friend Josh is a doctor in town. I can run you to his private practice clinic.”

“Heavens no, I am fine.” I wipe the water off my face and turn, instantly feeling the loss of his touch while noting the genuine traces of concern in his eyes. I offer up a smile as proof of life. “I grew up on a farm. We’re built of sturdier stuff than most.”

He holds my eyes for a moment, and I swear they shift from that bright ocean blue that Everly’s are, into a cloudy mix of bluish green. Almost indigo. They’re narrow and framed by long, dark lashes that have no business being on a man with lighter hair. I quickly drink in the rest of his face, noting the worry lines that stack on the center of his forehead. His nose has a faint smattering of freckles over it that I never noticed before. Probably because I was too busy staring at the scruff on his square jaw peppered with light, dark, and gray hairs. And those lips. Those full lips look so soft, I have a strange urge to reach out and pinch them to see how they feel.

I swallow the knot in my throat, and my voice is barely a whisper when I croak, “If you need to fire me, I understand.”

A wrinkle forms between Mr. Fletcher’s brows as his gaze drops to my mouth. He moistens his lips to reply when a strange noise from somewhere in the distance has both of our heads snapping toward the house, making me flinch as pain shoots down my neck.

I spot Everly seated on the deck steps with the first-aid kit beside her. She’s curled up in a ball, her head buried in her arms as she sobs violently.

“Fuck,” Mr. Fletcher mutters, making a move to go to her.

“Let me.” I grab his forearm and feel slightly woozy from either my brush with drowning or the skin-on-skin contact after I basically just imprinted his handsome face in my mind. I pull my hand back and rush out, “I’m sure she feels awful, and I’m the only one who can forgive her.”

The muscle in Mr. Fletcher’s jaw jumps. “I’m not sure she should be forgiven just yet.”

“Yes, she should,” I huff indignantly, my defenses instantly going up. “She’s not one of your many employees who need to be written up. She’s a little kid who made a mistake.” I practically push this grumpy anti-Dadbod, corporate mogul-ass out of my way to walk over to my charge.

“Yo, Sea Monster,” I call out, and a red-faced Everly looks up at me, her shoulders shaking with every hysteric sob that wracks her tiny body. “Seriously, you gotta tell me your workout routine. I’m no skinny minny, and you manhandled me into that pool like a boss.” I try to laugh as I stand in front of her, but Everly does not take the bait.

“I’m so sorry, Cozy,” she sobs and leaps up to barrel into me. She wraps her slender arms around my hips and buries her face in my chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought it would be funny. I’m so stupid. So, so stupid!”

“Hey,” I assert, grabbing her arms and pulling her away from me. I squat down in front of her so I can look her in the eyes. “You are many things, but stupid isn’t even close to one of them.”