“You’re incorrigible,” I said. How many times had I heard that same statement? How many times had I pretended not to care?Too many.
It didn’t take long for Doug and Nathan to finish. When they came back in, Doug set up Nathan’s laptop so he could monitor the feed.
“Ashley, Violet, would you like to see what the cameras see?” Doug asked.
We did. I’d talked to the guys at SSI enough to know they’d never invade our privacy by pointing the cameras inside, but I still felt the need to verify.
Leaning over Nathan’s shoulder was a bad idea. He smelled so damn good. Leather and whiskey and him. One hundred percent masculine. One hundred percent yummy.
It was different from the woodsy scent I remembered from our time together in Vegas. This scent suited him better. I took what I hoped was a stealthy deep inhale, before turning my attention to the screen.
The screen showed four views. The top images were from the front cameras; the bottom two from the back. I saw our front porch in the upper left, the street in the upper right, and the bottom sections showed the patio and yard.
“Seems like overkill,” I said, ignoring the desire to lean closer and inhale more Nathan.
“I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Gran said. Her voice cracked, revealing the fear she’d been hiding so well until now.
Wanting to put her mind at ease, I agreed. “You’re right; they’re the pros.” My smile felt like plastic on my face. I already felt more than enough guilt for bringing this to her doorstep; I wouldn’t add more by arguing with SSI.
When Prince stretched to his full length, sinking his claws into Doug’s thigh to get his attention, Doug winced and pried the sharp mini daggers out of his pants.
I rolled my eyes when Gran said, “He has good taste.” I loved my grandmother, without question, but I needed to get Doug out of here before she embarrassed me anymore.
“Thank you, Doug,” I said, as we walked him to the door.
“You’re welcome. We’ll get this sorted. You’ll have your life back in no time.”
I appreciated his confidence, but my life was a shitshow, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it back. A new and improved, non-pregnant life—that’d I’d take.
Knowing things would go a lot smoother, I decided to play nice with Nathan while he was here. Hopefully, Gran would stop trying so hard to make me like him if I was civil. Plus, I could easily avoid him by hiding in my room. Except for meals.
When I made Gran dinner, I invited Nathan.
When he offered to help me clean, I let him.
When our hands brushed against each other, I ignored the sensation traveling up my arm and settling in my core.
When Gran turned on the TV to watch her favorite show, I stood to go to my room.
“Why don’t you stay and entertain our guest?” Gran suggested.
“He’s not our guest,” I said.
“I’m not a guest,” Nathan said at the same time. “You don’t have to entertain me.”
“Nonsense,” I’d swear it was Gran’s favorite expression, “you’re here, so there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy your company.”
No reason except I wanted what I couldn’t have. And because I was practically drooling over his heavily tattooed forearms. Forearms he’d hid under long sleeves every other time I’d seen him, even in the sweltering heat of August. Forearms that should be illegal to cover, no matter the weather, or how plentiful the scars.
“I have to work on my proposal for the Wyatt Foundation.” I bent the truth. “Emily and I are meeting tomorrow to go over my ideas.”
Nathan’s head snapped up.
“What time?”
“Does it matter?” I said without thinking.
“I need to tell Jamie so he can schedule someone to stay with your grandmother.”
