Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men, #1)(10)

“You dumped a bag full of books on my feet before my calculus class on Monday,” he reminded me dryly.

“Right,” I agreed slowly before trilling out a guilty little laugh. “That was you, wasn’t it? Yeah, sorry about that…again.”

His stare was borderline hostile, telling me I didn’t impress him in the least. But it still held a powerful punch.

Whenever he’d glanced at Eva on that first day of classes, it was as if he’d stared straight through her. With me, it was the complete opposite.

He saw me. He just didn’t approve of what he saw, for some unknown reason.

“Oh, so you two have already met, then.” Dawn seemed pleased to learn this. “That’s great.”

I sent her a horrified glance to let her know she was crazy. Mason and I had certainly never “met” before. But she was too busy pointing to something he was blocking with his body like some kind of protective papa bear.

“I guess that leaves one introduction. Reese, this is Sarah.” Taking Mason’s elbow, Dawn manually dragged his resisting body aside to reveal the little girl sitting in a wheelchair behind him.

Yeah, I said wheelchair. Sarah, the twelve-year-old I was supposed to babysit, sat in a wheelchair.

This, I had not expected.

Trying not to show my shock, I clasped my hands together and gave the girl such a huge smile it stretched my lips to unbelievable proportions. “Hi, Sarah. I’m so happy to meet you,” I said aloud when internally, I screamed, Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Why didn’t Dawn mention this in the phone interview?

In response, Sarah flailed her head and arms, limbs and neck spasms floundering her out of control as her torso went limp and floppy. A low, garbled sound, like a sick cow on drugs, moaned its way from her throat.

I’m not too sure, but I think she said, “Hello.”

I freaked.

How the hell was I supposed to watch a special needs child in a wheelchair? I wasn’t trained for this. Artie, the autistic boy I’d watched once or twice two years ago, had had such a mild case that sometimes I’d forgotten he was different at all. But there would be no forgetting it with Sarah. I didn’t know the first thing about…well, whatever it was she had.

“Sarah, this is Reese.” Dawn crouched next to her and set her hand gently on the girl’s shoulder. “She’s going to stay with you in the evenings now that Ashley’s gone.”

I smiled encouragingly at Sarah, hoping she understood I was a good guy, hoping she understood anything.

Sarah moaned out another inarticulate sound that didn’t give my hope a lot of room to breathe.

Damn it. Why had Dawn kept this a secret?

Mason stiffened. Don’t ask me how I knew that, but I felt a blast of angry chill attack me from his direction, so I glanced over. He glared with so much pent-up anger I actually shrank back. But the meaning in his glower was clear. If I did anything to hurt his little sister, he would make me regret it.

I was tempted to hold my thumbs up in a message-received signal but restrained myself. Bad timing and all that.

“Sarah has CP,” Dawn told me.

“Oh.” I nodded as if I knew what that meant and unconsciously turned Mason’s way with a questioning wrinkle in my brows.

“That’s short for cerebral palsy,” he said, his voice damn near a challenge, daring me to run screaming from the house.

Except I wasn’t really the running and screaming type.

Again, I nodded as if I totally understood and had no problem with it. Really, though, what the hell was cerebral palsy? I’d heard the term plenty of times but had no idea what it actually entailed.

“It’s a muscle disorder,” Dawn answered my unspoken question. “Sarah was born premature, and it injured the motor part of her brain, affecting the muscles in her entire body, from her limbs to trunk to even her tongue and eye muscles. It takes an extreme effort for her just to talk, or chew, or even blink.”

Ohhh. Good to know. But poor Sarah. That kind of life had to suck monkey butt. I glanced at her with a commiserating grimace, which seemed to tick her big brother off something fierce.

“I need to get going,” he broke in, as if he couldn’t bear to stand in the same house with me a second longer.

Bending slightly to kiss Sarah’s cheek—and my, my, how nicely those pants fit his rear to perfection—he said, “Take care, kiddo,” before he stood and ruffled her oak-colored locks, which were the same shade as his own. Then he glanced at his mother and waved goodbye.

When he turned toward me, because he had to since I was standing right by the hallway entrance, his eyes were stormy and filled with silent warning. He didn’t even nod as he brushed past before disappearing down the hall. A second later, I heard the front door open and close. And he was gone.

I felt rattled after his departure, but his mother didn’t seem to notice anything strange at all.

“So this is Sarah’s picture board,” she told me. I jerked to attention, not daring to miss any vital piece of information. “If she has trouble understanding something you’re saying, you can always point at a picture to communicate. And likewise, she can do the same in order to speak to you.”

I nodded, soaking in as much as I could.

“Her supper’s already ready. I have her meal blended and sitting in the refrigerator. Just pop a straw in. We keep them in this cupboard.” Dawn paused to open a nearby cabinet door so she could point out their location. “And hold it to her mouth for her. She’ll probably try to talk you into letting her hold it on her own, but trust me, it’s always less messy if you do it. Make sure she eats in about half an hour. Her evening meal is at 8:30 every night.”