“Right.” I step back too, giving her space. Space is the last thing I want to give her. I want to share the bed with her – we wouldn’t sleep a wink. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“You sure? It’s your supplies, your—”
“I’m sure.”
We stand there in the dark bedroom, lightning flashing through the window and thunder shaking the house.
“We should sleep,” she repeats, her voice barely audible over the rain.
But neither of us moves.
Eventually, we agree that she’s taking the bed and I’ll sleep by the window. This didn’t start as a bodyguard assignment, and I realize I’m now guarding her as much as the development.
And anyone stupid enough to come after Maya is going to have to deal with me.
CHAPTER 4
MAYA
The kitchen smells like coffee and something else. Bacon. My stomach growls as I walk in, trying not to notice how Reed looks in the morning light streaming through the windows. His t-shirt is rumpled, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and there’s a pillow crease on his cheek that makes him look younger, less guarded.
“Morning,” he says without turning from the stove. “Coffee’s ready.”
“You’re cooking again.” It’s not a question. I can see the eggs scrambling in the pan, bread waiting by the toaster.
“Figured we both need fuel for today.” He glances over his shoulder, and something flickers in his eyes when he sees me. I’m still wearing his hoodie from last night, which I want to live in because it’s so cozy and warm, and it has Reed’s scent on it.
“How long have you been up?”
“Hour or so.” He turns back to the eggs, but I catch the tension in his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep.”
When he hands it to me, our fingers brush. We both freeze for a heartbeat, then pull back like we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Nothing to apologize for.” But his voice is rougher than it was a moment ago.
I escape to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and stare at my reflection. Hair wild from sleep. Eyes bright with a desire that I haven’t seen in years. I want Reed so much my fingertips ache.
When I return, he’s plating the eggs and bacon. A sudden image of this happening every morning flashes in my mind. I’ve never looked at a man and wanted this.
My phone buzzes. Mom.
I let it go to voicemail, but Reed’s watching me with those too-observant eyes.
“Tuesday morning call,” I explain, though he didn’t ask. “Like clockwork.”
“Important call?”
“My mother.” I set the phone aside. “She can wait.”
He doesn’t push, just slides a plate toward me. “Eat. I need to get to work to install the cameras and check with our tech guy to make sure the feeds are up.”
Reed’s been gonefor twenty minutes, and I’ve checked the window more times than I can count.
Stay inside. Stay away from the windows. Keep the doors locked.
His instructions were clear, but I can’t help it. I drift to the living room window again, searching the property for any sign of him. The construction site looks peaceful, if muddy, in the post-storm sunlight, but I know it’s not safe.
