Free Protecting What's His by Tessa Bailey Page A

through her robbed him of breath. Derek wanted to decimate her sadness and anything causing it. Feeling powerless, he rubbed circles on her back with one hand.
    “I’m not good at this,” she mumbled against his neck. He barely heard her over the drone of the still-running shower.
    “Good at what, baby?”
    Ginger pulled away, wiping her tears away with shaking hands. He let her go, even though he wanted to crush her back to his chest.
    “Everything. Being responsible for my sister. Making decisions for us.”
    “Listen, Ginger, what I said earlier about you taking Willa out in the cold—”
    “No. No, that’s not it. But it’s one example.” She took a deep, fortifying breath. “That ceiling would have crushed me to death tonight. Five seconds later, I’d have been a goner and that would’ve left Willa completely alone in a strange city. Oh God, what was I thinking?”
    Certain he’d gone white at her revelation about the ceiling, Derek did his best to talk around the giant knot in his throat. “You couldn’t have known the ceiling was going to fall, Ginger.”
    She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
    “Help me, then.”
    “Coming to Chicago was my decision.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I thought we would be better here. Willa would have more opportunities. But, oh God, I’m in completely over my head, aren’t I? I don’t know how to repair a flooded apartment or cook a decent potpie or even talk to my sister about what’s bothering her. I’m not qualified for any of it.”
    He stroked her hair out of her face. “Listen to me. You’ve had a long night so everything seems a little worse than it really is. You and Willa weren’t hurt. The rest of it you’ll handle, because you don’t have a choice. Chicago or some other town, the same problems will follow you.”
    Ginger choked on a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus. Your bedside manner needs serious work.”
    “Sorry, but how bad can someone really fuck up a chicken potpie? I’m sure yours are fine.”
    Laughter bubbled from her throat. “I can’t believe I actually feel better after that locker room pep talk. But gee, thanks coach. I guess I’ll get back out on the field and show them whose house it is.”
    “I like a woman who can make a decent sports reference.”
    “Then get used to disappointment because my career in sports references just peaked at one.”
    Sighing heavily, she slid off the counter, careful not to touch him. “So, it appears we’ve well and truly blurred the lines tonight.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We were working our way up to something, I’m not sure what. But here we are, roommates, and that paints everything in a different light.”
    His eyebrow quirked up. “Make an attempt to be clear, please.”
    “ I mean we can’t sleep together now. If we did, you’d never know if I consented merely because I was grateful for your help. And I’ll always wonder if you only invited us to stay to score points and get me into the sack.”
    “Ginger, are you sure the ceiling didn’t hit you on the head tonight?”
    Her face showed disapproval. “Now, Lieutenant, it’s impolite to discuss my recent upset.”
    He gave her a look.
    “There’s only one way redefine the lines and put us back on equal footing. I’m going to pay you rent until we get back into our apartment. That way, we’ll never have to wonder.”
    “Ginger.”
    “Wait. I have two rules. No more detectives coming into Sensation and getting in my hair. I’ve never needed a babysitter before and I sure don’t need ten of them now.”
    God, this woman exasperated him. She stood a foot away from him wearing a transparent T-shirt and panties, oblivious to the danger she was in of being dragged to the floor and fucked into submission, giving him rules .
    “And the second rule?”
    “Huh?”
    “You said there were two rules.”
    She appeared to be deep in thought. “Oh, right. The most important one. No sex until I’m back in