Falling for the New Guy

“All right, but if there’s hugging involved, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“Noted.” Marc turned the knob. He’d save the dread and discomfort for later. For right now. Right now he was just doing the right thing, and that was all that mattered.

He stepped outside, grimacing when he saw Tess’s form jogging up on the path. Not quite long enough.

“That her?”

“Yeah.”

Leah laughed and gave him a shove. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

“I’m not—”

But Leah shut the door before he could argue. He wasn’t going to go get Tess. He wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_32854f44-6fa0-521b-9154-b69194fabc8d)

TESS WAS SURPRISED to see Marc trudging across the expansive yard he’d disappeared toward. He hadn’t been subtle about wanting to get rid of her.

She had a hard time blaming him for that. Where she’d spent years upon years successfully keeping friends and coworkers firmly in the dark about what a mess she was, she’d known Marc a week and he knew. He’d seen.

That was extraordinarily difficult to deal with, because someone knowing what a mess she was made it seem more true. Less something she could muscle her way through. He didn’t believe that tough shell she donned every day.

She just wished the seer of her weaknesses wasn’t so hot. Or so sweet, in a weirdly uncomfortable, gruff way.

Shit balls.

Marc fell into step kind of half next to her, half behind her. It was only then she realized she’d purposefully slowed her pace as she’d come close to the giant old house. Because she’d wanted...

It was best if she didn’t think too hard about what she wanted.

“Hey.”

“Said all your hellos?”

“Yeah, she’s working. Didn’t want to take up too much of her time.”

“What exactly is that place? I’m not familiar with it.”

“Restoration company. They fix up old houses for people. She’s an electrician.”

“I do love a woman in a traditionally male-dominated field.”

Marc puffed out a chuckle. “Yeah, you two’d probably get along.”

It wasn’t an invitation to meet his family— obviously he didn’t want that—but it made her wonder. Marc already knew so much about her life, and all she knew was he was from Minnesota and had a sister. Electrician for a restoration company sister.

“Do your parents live back in Minnesota?”

“Yes.”

“Did you move here to be closer to your sister?”

He was quiet for a while. So much so, she had to glance back to make sure he was still behind her.

His expression was grim and something she couldn’t read. Maybe as if the superhero let everyone down.

“You could say that.”

Which was such a strange answer, purposefully vague and a little cryptic. Marc definitely had some issues of his own. People weren’t so tight-lipped about their lives if they weren’t hiding something.

Tess would know.

Was it a bad something, like a parental monkey on his back, or was it innocuous? Embarrassing, but not like hers. Not painful and potentially life damaging.

It would be best not to know.

“You said you didn’t have a sister, but any brothers?”

Before yesterday she might have considered that question making progress. He so rarely asked her for more information than she willingly gave. But yesterday had changed things, because today he was asking not out of curiosity or the desire to get to know her better, but because he wondered about her relationship with her father. If there was someone to step in and save the day.

“Nope. Just me.” In more ways than one.

She shouldn’t give him any more than that, should be as terse and tight-lipped as he always was, but there was a too-big part of her that wanted him to understand, or see, or something. This thing with her father, as pathetic as it was, wasn’t something she chose.

“Mom left when I was little, so it’s always been just Dad and me.”

She wouldn’t say more than that, because it was all that needed to be said. Maybe he would understand, and maybe he wouldn’t. But she’d given him enough information to know this wasn’t pathetic. They really were all each other had, and she was the responsible party.

Whether she wanted to be or not.

Marc didn’t say anything, so she focused on running. Hard. So her muscles would be nothing but jelly and hopefully her brain would follow suit.

When they reached the apartment complex, Tess was breathing hard enough talking would be difficult, and she was gratified Marc was in about the same shape.

“Christ, how often do you do that?” He huffed.

Tess grinned, bending to the side to stretch before her Jell-O muscles got tight. “Couple times a week. Depending.” On Dad. A few months ago it had been once a week tops. This month? Three to four times per week.

Things were bad.

You need to help him. Fix this. You cannot ignore him. You’re all he has. This is your responsibility.

But she didn’t want it anymore. For once in her life she wanted to make a decision not based on her father’s fragile mental state.

Forgetting the rest of her usual stretches, she pushed inside the building. She felt too raw to have Marc’s scrutinizing eyes around.