Show Me the Way (Fight for Me #1)(24)

He appeared so utterly alone even though I’d seen him return home with his daughter about forty-five minutes ago.

My spying no longer gave me the sense of violating his privacy.

It felt like a mission.

That it held a purpose for his greater good. Or maybe his little girl’s. I didn’t know.

I just knew there was absolutely nothing I could do but stand at his door with a peace offering.

A thank you.

Balancing the gooey pie in both hands, I nudged at the door with my elbow. My heart sped when I heard the scraping of chair legs against the floor and the rustling within the house, my blood becoming a thunder that rushed through my veins.

Then I sensed the pause. The presence that was so clearly right on the other side of the door, that severity hot as it blazed through the wood.

There might as well have been no separation between us.

Because I could feel him. The conflict and reluctance.

God, why did he have this kind of effect on me?

It only grew when I felt the resignation, heard the slow slide of metal and the creak of hinges as he barely cracked open the door, only a single wary eye visible. “What are you doing here, Rynna?”

I lifted my hands so he could see what I was holding. “I baked you a pie.”

Exasperation bled into his tone as he opened the door a bit wider. “Why did you do that?”

“Because it’s a neighborly thing to do.” It almost came across as irritated. But then I was taken back to the way he’d stepped into the line of fire for me. The way he’d talked to me at the bar. Openly. As if he wanted to let me in but he didn’t know how or if he could. The way he’d taken off as if I had suddenly become a danger to him.

My voice deepened with sincerity. “You saved me last night, Rex, I wanted to properly thank you.”

“It’s not necessary,” he said, words gruff. If it weren’t for that flash in the depths of those eyes, I would have bought the act.

“I just—”

“Please . . . leave us alone, Rynna.” It was a plea.

He started to shut the door in my face again, but he winced, freezing when the sweet, excited voice broke through the aversion. “Ms. Dayne? What’cha doin’ here?”

She rubbed her tiny fists in her bleary eyes. The little girl took the definition of bedhead to a whole new level.

Rex cringed, his lips pursing and that throat that kept making me lose my train of thought bobbing heavily. An edge of defensiveness threaded into his words. “We were at the lake all day . . . she didn’t get her bath before she fell asleep.”

“I not tired anymore, Daddy,” she said, shaking her head as if she were shaking off even the idea of going back to bed.

“It’s late, Frankie Leigh.”

She totally ignored her dad, her smile so wide when she shot forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his thigh before gazing up at me. “What do you gots? Is that a Pepper Pie? Oh, yummy.” She jumped in place and tugged at her dad’s shirt. “Daddy, she gots a Pepper Pie! Is that for me?”

At least someone appreciated my efforts.

I smiled down at her. “It is for you. But it’s super hot right now, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to have a piece so you don’t burn yourself. That’s if your daddy says it’s okay. And be sure to save a piece for him in case he wants one. Deal?”

“Deal!” She blinked at me. “I want a puppy!”

I subtly shifted the brunt of the weight of the pie from one hand to the other, the scalding temperature making its way into the mitts. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. But Daddy said it’s not a good idea rights now. Do you gots any good ideas?”

“Um . . . I’m not sure.” Light laughter slipped free, her sweetness tugging at my chest. Maybe there was such a thing as too adorable. Because right then, I’d probably give her anything she asked me for.

I shifted the mitts again, and Rex sighed.

“Is that hot?” His teeth gritted when he asked it. As if he were dreading my answer. As if he didn’t want to be concerned but couldn’t stop himself.

I shifted it again. “A little bit.”

He looked to the ground, issuing a soft curse beneath his breath, the word only ringing in my ear because I was able to read it on the movement of his soft, full lips. On a resigned sigh, he stepped back and widened the door the rest of the way. “Come in . . . set it on the kitchen counter.”

With the way he cringed, I’d have thought the invitation caused him physical pain.

I whispered, “Thank you,” and slipped inside, my body grazing his when I passed.

A tiny gasped breached my lips. The heat on my hands was nothing compared to the heat that scorched my skin.

Attraction swept me head to toe.

It was possibly the most foolish emotion I’d ever felt.

Because it was unfathomable.

Overwhelming.

Too much.

Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to step the rest of the way inside.

My jaw dropped in awe. “Wow.”

The interior of their house was totally not what I’d expected. I’d expected something closer to my grandmother’s house. A quaint, comfortable home that could use a fresh coat of paint among a million other things.

Shabby and totally missing the chic.