Lost in my thoughts, I startled when the passenger door opened.
Brutus’ forehead wrinkled briefly before he held out his hand for me. I took it, and this time wasn’t thrown off by the jolt of electricity that pushed through my body at our skin on skin contact.
I inhaled the salty seawater scent that lingered in the air. Perhaps that was what was making me so lax in judgment. The fact that I was on vacation … no, not a vacation. A sabbatical. I was letting my guard down, and with it, the reminder that it’d been way too long since I’d had sex.
It’d been almost a year since my last relationship imploded. It ended because I worked too much and “didn’t know how to let a man lead” according to Mike.
“This place is beautiful,” Brutus admired as we scaled the stairs to my second-floor bungalow.
“Yeah, I decided to splurge for the first month of my getaway. Treat yo’ self and all of that,” I said, laughing.
“Good for you,” he responded.
We’d gotten the key from the check-in counter, and I reached to insert it into the lock when his massive hand covered mine.
“Let me.”
The expression on his face was unreadable. Gone was the smile and the laughter in his eyes. He’d taken on a business-like demeanor.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I withdrew my hand from the inserted key.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he twisted the doorknob and entered. “Wait here.”
My back went ramrod straight at the seriousness in his voice. I watched as he entered my bungalow and looked from left to right. He breezed throughout the living room space, flipping on and off the light switches, looking underneath the table and couch, and checking the locks on the sliding glass doors that led to the private pool.
“Um, Brutus?” I asked.
He spun on his heels, turning to me. “What are you doing inside? I told you to wait at the door.”
I put my hands on my hips. “This is my place, remember? What areyoudoing?” I demanded.
He blinked before slowly pushing out a breath. His shoulders relaxed, but not by much. “I’m making sure your room is safe.”
I burst out in laughter. When he didn’t join in, the laughter fell by the wayside. “You’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He held up a finger before I could answer. “This unit has a second floor, doesn’t it?”
I dipped my head. “For the bedroom and second bathroom.”
“Wait here,” he said sternly.
I ignored the way my nipples pebbled at the command in his voice. I had half a mind to follow him up the stairs. But something kept me rooted to the spot where he left me. That odd security that I’d been feeling in his presence came back tenfold.
“All clear,” he said as he came barreling down the stairs.
“Good to know there aren’t any serial killers hiding underneath my bed,” I joked.
He didn’t laugh.
In fact, his face hardened, and he peered up the stairs again as if he had half a mind to go recheck.
“Thank you,” I said, to distract him from said mission. “For the ride all the way here, and dinner, and,” I gestured toward the rest of the bungalow, “for checking to make sure everything’s safe.” I tilted my head to the side. “Speaking of … what do you do for a living?”
We hadn’t spoken much about careers in all the hours we spent together. That was a great thing. After more than a decade of leading with my job in most conversations with strangers, it was nice to talk about other things with someone new.
But the way he constantly scanned rooms, how he automatically took over as if it was second nature, the protectiveness that emanated off of him. There was no way this guy filled out spreadsheets for a living.
Shaking his head, he approached. He tipped my chin with his finger, making me peer up at him as he stood over me.
