“Yes!” Her throat was closing. “It—it’s against the rules, and who would want me, anyway?” She could taste her own bitterness in every word. “An orphan with self-esteem issues. There’s a real catch. I’m a mess, Tony. It’s better if my life takes a different path.”
He turned her to face him, his touch sure and coaxing. His eyes found hers and held her, mesmerizing and tearing straight through her. “I think any man would be lucky to call himself yours.”
Longing burned inside Rebecca, nearly consumed her. She wet her lips and turned her face away, hiding from that penetrating emerald gaze. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Gripping her chin, he gently turned her back. “It’s the truth. I thought angels valued that. Valued honesty.”
“We do. But I’m here for one reason and one reason alone: to save you. When I leave, you’ll forget all about me.”
“Just like everyone else?” The simple words cut deep. “How many people have abandoned you?”
Rebecca forced several deep breaths to quell the panic inside her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. She was supposed to see into him, to know him, to save him. He wasn’t supposed to know her this way. This deeply. “Don’t.”
Yet he wouldn’t let go. His eyes searched hers, and his thumb caressed along the corner of her mouth. “You remind me of myself. You get just close enough, and then pull away. We’re alike, little angel. Two broken people trying to pretend we’re not. Maybe that’s why you were sent to me.”
Her eyes stung. She swallowed. “So you believe me now?”
“Maybe.” Confusion left wrinkles in his brow. “I’m not sure yet. But I am sure that faith won’t save us, Rebecca.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But if faith won’t save you, then I guess I’ll have to do it myself.” Rebecca couldn’t stand this anymore. She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed. “Now get off me. I have boxes to unpack.”
He let her go, and she ran from the room before he could see the tears burning her eyes.
Chapter Three
Angel Rule #3: Remain calm and gracious, even under pressure.
Through a haze of sleep, Rebecca felt something tickle her nose.
With a groan, she scrunched up her nose and turned her face away. She heard a giggle, and the sound of little feet, before the tickle came again. She didn’t want to open her eyes, damn it. She’d probably find some horrible beast made entirely of eyeballs and hairy spider legs, poking her and giggling out of a fang-filled mouth. The senior angels liked to f—screw with the trainees by sending nightmares to test their response in stressful situations. Sally had probably cooked up a whopper to punish her for last night.
This time it wasn’t a tickle. It was a poke, and Rebecca blinked, snorting herself awake. The morning sun shone painfully through the uncovered windows, forcing her to squint. That little giggle came again.
“Are you awake, lady?”
Big brown eyes peered over the edge of the mattress. A little hand reached up to poke her again. Rebecca sighed and rolled onto her back. Not a monster. Just a four-year-old girl.
With the killer headache clawing at Rebecca’s temples, she’d almost rather have the monster.
“I’m awake,” she mumbled. Now.
“Are you a fairy? Like Tinkerbell?”
“…no.”
“You look like a garden fairy.” Miranda pouted. “I thought you were a garden fairy.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Rebecca managed a tired smile. “I’m not.”
Miranda sighed heavily, then eyed her. “Can you cook?” Her voice dropped, and she shot a glance at the door. “Are you allowed yet?”
Rebecca chuckled. “I should hope so.”
“Daddy won’t let me touch the oven.” The little girl scrunched her nose and planted her hands on her hips, dropping her baby doll on the floor. “I’m hungry.”
“I think I can help with that.” Rebecca sat up with a wince. After a night of unpacking and hauling hefty boxes, she was sore as hell. “Is your baby hungry yet?”
“It’s not real. Of course it isn’t,” Miranda said primly, and shook her head with an exasperated sigh before retrieving her doll. She turned a brilliant smile up at Rebecca. “But she likes you.”
“Oh. Um. I like her too?”
In hindsight, maybe it was a good thing she’d never have kids. They were adorable, but she just didn’t get how their tiny little monkey brains worked. Or why they asked so many questions at stupidly early hours of the morning. Like:
“Why are you in Daddy’s bed? Where is he? What’s your name?”
“Uh.” Rebecca blinked. She knew the answer to one of those questions, and it wasn’t the one she most desperately wanted to know. She had no idea how she’d ended up in Tony’s bed. The last thing she remembered was sitting down on the couch to rest her legs, and wishing Tony would go to bed so she could curl up and have a good cry.
She must have fallen asleep, and he must have put her to bed. They’d barely spoken a word to each other after she’d stormed away, and she hadn’t wanted to break the tense silence. Especially not to come begging at his feet for a pillow and blanket so she could bed down on the couch for the night. Had he taken the couch instead, and let her have the bed?
Rebecca sighed. And he really expected her to believe that “dark and dangerous” act?
Idiot.
She returned her attention to Miranda, who watched her with grave, curious eyes. Rebecca caught one pudgy little hand in her own and squeezed it. The girl’s fingers were so tiny in hers, and as they curled trustingly against Rebecca’s palm, a warm feeling crept over her. She tried to push it away. She wasn’t part of this little girl’s life.
“I’m Rebecca. I’m not sure where your daddy is, but I’m here to help him unpack.”
“Oh. Okay.” Miranda blinked, then shrugged. “Food?”
Rebecca smiled. Only a four-year-old could accept that so easily. “Sure. Food.”
She let Miranda lead her from the bedroom into the living room. Tony sprawled on the couch with one arm flung over his eyes. He’d stripped out of his shirt, and his chest rose and fell with each soft breath; the hard-sculpted lines of his abdomen tightened. Her fingers itched to touch his bare skin. Her mouth ached to kiss away the horrible things they’d said to each other last night. She clenched her hands into fists and bit down hard on her bottom lip.