Craving Resurrection
Page 7
I was too busy trying to ignore the flutter in my belly as I remembered Patrick’s sharp jaw and full lips as he’d sneered at me. His cheeks had been flushed with anger, but I almost hadn’t noticed because I’d been to busy tracing the freckles across his face. Dear God. Freckles. He was an asshole, clearly, but he was the most handsome one I’d ever seen.
***
I must have fallen back asleep at some point, because when I finally woke up the next morning, I could tell by the way the sun was shining through the window that I was really late for school. Peg always woke me up as she left for work so I could head back home to shower, but I wasn’t really surprised she’d forgotten. She hadn’t seen her son in months, and I was sure after the initial scene she’d been over the moon that he was home for a visit. She talked about Patrick all the time, and I knew she missed him like crazy while he was gone.
I slipped my feet into my sandals as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. God, I hated mornings. I was dragging ass as I made the bed, fluffing the softest feather pillow I’d ever felt and smoothing down the patched-up quilt. I tried not to leave any messes while I was at Peg’s. She worked really hard, usually exhausted by the time she got home in the afternoon, and I never wanted to make things harder for her. She claimed my presence in her life was God’s blessing, and I didn’t want her to change her stance on that by forcing her to clean up after me. A few minutes later, I was shuffling blearily into the living room.
“Mornin’.”
I stumbled to a stop outside the bedroom, my eyes growing wide as I caught sight of Patrick’s muscular bare chest and sleep-tousled hair.
Freckles on his chest.
Dear God, he had freckles on his chest.
“Me mum’s at de shop.”
My gaze dropped to the cup of coffee he was holding, his long fingers wrapped completely around the mug, and I swallowed nervously. I needed to get out of there before I had some sort of episode that ended with me passing out or peeing myself. “Okay,” I mumbled, moving around him toward the door.
“Hey, Amy, right?”
My head snapped up in surprise. Why was he still talking to me?
“Sorry about dis mornin’. I haven’t been home as much as I should, and de guilt of dat mixed wit’ surprise at findin’ a woman in me bed, well, I t’ought maybe ye were takin’ advantage of me ma’s good nature. Stupid, yeah? De woman’s no fool.” He said the last words on a smile, shaking his head. “Forgive me?”
“Yeah, okay,” I answered quickly before he could take back the apology.
He’d been a complete asshole, but I couldn’t really fault him for it. If I had a mom as sweet as Peg, I’d be hell-bent on keeping leeches away from her, too. Plus, I wasn’t sure how long he would be there, and I was terrified if we didn’t work out some sort of ceasefire I’d be stuck at the house with my parents for his entire visit.
“I better get home,” I said with a nod, moving toward the front door again.
“Mum said ye were supposed to be in school today. Yer parents won’t be angry yer not dere?”
After taking a moment to decipher his quickly spoken words, I realized he’d asked the same question that had been rattling around in my head since I’d woken up to sunlight through the window. “I can handle it.”
“Ye don’t go home until later, dey won’t know right?”
Why the hell was the absence of the ‘th’ sound in his words so freaking hot? I’d been hearing it that way for months already. It’s not like it was anything new.
“Uh…”
“Ye can stay here if ye want.”
My jaw dropped, and he blushed when he saw my reaction to his words.
“Fuck, girl. I’m not tryin’ to get in yer knickers. Just t’ought I’d help ye out. I’m too old for ye.”
Did that mean if I were older, he would be trying to get in my pants? Wait, how did the conversation morph into getting in my pants? My palms began to sweat as he pushed himself off the sofa.
“Who—” my words stuttered as he stepped forward and we were suddenly very close to each other. “Who said I’d even want you?”
“Beautiful, might wanna look at me face if yer tryin’ to convince me o’dat. Been starin’ at me chest since ye walked out of me bedroom and yer voice has gone a bit…ragged.” His cheeks dimpled, and he winked before stepping around me.
“Your bedroom?” My voice sounded strangled as I twisted to watch him walk away.
“Since I was a wean,” he answered with a chuckle. “I’m havin’ a shower. Yer here when I get out, we’ll find somet’in’ to do today.”
The bathroom door closed behind him as I stood frozen. I’d been sleeping in his bed? Oh, my God. No wonder he’d walked right in.
I fell to the couch with a huff and dropped my face into my hands. I’d been sleeping in his bed more often than not for the last two months. Oh, shit! Had I been drooling on his pillow? And most importantly, if he was staying, did that mean I had to stay at my house?
It wasn’t as if I could ask him to sleep on the couch so I could take his room. He wouldn’t even fit on the damn couch. Not only was he too long, but I swear his muscles had muscles, and he was too broad for Peg’s miniature sofa.
I whipped my hands away from my face in frustration and, to my horror, they were immediately tickled by little hairs. Oh, no. I reached up, fanning them next to my face and could have cried when I felt more hair brushing my palms. Shit! I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail, but I hadn’t even thought to tame the flyaways near my face. Normally I didn’t run into anyone before I’d had a shower. How could I have known he was lying in wait?
***
I must have fallen back asleep at some point, because when I finally woke up the next morning, I could tell by the way the sun was shining through the window that I was really late for school. Peg always woke me up as she left for work so I could head back home to shower, but I wasn’t really surprised she’d forgotten. She hadn’t seen her son in months, and I was sure after the initial scene she’d been over the moon that he was home for a visit. She talked about Patrick all the time, and I knew she missed him like crazy while he was gone.
I slipped my feet into my sandals as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. God, I hated mornings. I was dragging ass as I made the bed, fluffing the softest feather pillow I’d ever felt and smoothing down the patched-up quilt. I tried not to leave any messes while I was at Peg’s. She worked really hard, usually exhausted by the time she got home in the afternoon, and I never wanted to make things harder for her. She claimed my presence in her life was God’s blessing, and I didn’t want her to change her stance on that by forcing her to clean up after me. A few minutes later, I was shuffling blearily into the living room.
“Mornin’.”
I stumbled to a stop outside the bedroom, my eyes growing wide as I caught sight of Patrick’s muscular bare chest and sleep-tousled hair.
Freckles on his chest.
Dear God, he had freckles on his chest.
“Me mum’s at de shop.”
My gaze dropped to the cup of coffee he was holding, his long fingers wrapped completely around the mug, and I swallowed nervously. I needed to get out of there before I had some sort of episode that ended with me passing out or peeing myself. “Okay,” I mumbled, moving around him toward the door.
“Hey, Amy, right?”
My head snapped up in surprise. Why was he still talking to me?
“Sorry about dis mornin’. I haven’t been home as much as I should, and de guilt of dat mixed wit’ surprise at findin’ a woman in me bed, well, I t’ought maybe ye were takin’ advantage of me ma’s good nature. Stupid, yeah? De woman’s no fool.” He said the last words on a smile, shaking his head. “Forgive me?”
“Yeah, okay,” I answered quickly before he could take back the apology.
He’d been a complete asshole, but I couldn’t really fault him for it. If I had a mom as sweet as Peg, I’d be hell-bent on keeping leeches away from her, too. Plus, I wasn’t sure how long he would be there, and I was terrified if we didn’t work out some sort of ceasefire I’d be stuck at the house with my parents for his entire visit.
“I better get home,” I said with a nod, moving toward the front door again.
“Mum said ye were supposed to be in school today. Yer parents won’t be angry yer not dere?”
After taking a moment to decipher his quickly spoken words, I realized he’d asked the same question that had been rattling around in my head since I’d woken up to sunlight through the window. “I can handle it.”
“Ye don’t go home until later, dey won’t know right?”
Why the hell was the absence of the ‘th’ sound in his words so freaking hot? I’d been hearing it that way for months already. It’s not like it was anything new.
“Uh…”
“Ye can stay here if ye want.”
My jaw dropped, and he blushed when he saw my reaction to his words.
“Fuck, girl. I’m not tryin’ to get in yer knickers. Just t’ought I’d help ye out. I’m too old for ye.”
Did that mean if I were older, he would be trying to get in my pants? Wait, how did the conversation morph into getting in my pants? My palms began to sweat as he pushed himself off the sofa.
“Who—” my words stuttered as he stepped forward and we were suddenly very close to each other. “Who said I’d even want you?”
“Beautiful, might wanna look at me face if yer tryin’ to convince me o’dat. Been starin’ at me chest since ye walked out of me bedroom and yer voice has gone a bit…ragged.” His cheeks dimpled, and he winked before stepping around me.
“Your bedroom?” My voice sounded strangled as I twisted to watch him walk away.
“Since I was a wean,” he answered with a chuckle. “I’m havin’ a shower. Yer here when I get out, we’ll find somet’in’ to do today.”
The bathroom door closed behind him as I stood frozen. I’d been sleeping in his bed? Oh, my God. No wonder he’d walked right in.
I fell to the couch with a huff and dropped my face into my hands. I’d been sleeping in his bed more often than not for the last two months. Oh, shit! Had I been drooling on his pillow? And most importantly, if he was staying, did that mean I had to stay at my house?
It wasn’t as if I could ask him to sleep on the couch so I could take his room. He wouldn’t even fit on the damn couch. Not only was he too long, but I swear his muscles had muscles, and he was too broad for Peg’s miniature sofa.
I whipped my hands away from my face in frustration and, to my horror, they were immediately tickled by little hairs. Oh, no. I reached up, fanning them next to my face and could have cried when I felt more hair brushing my palms. Shit! I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail, but I hadn’t even thought to tame the flyaways near my face. Normally I didn’t run into anyone before I’d had a shower. How could I have known he was lying in wait?
