Then he clears his throat before he speaks. And when he does, I can hear not only the irritation in his voice, but the annoyance and anger as well. I don’t really give a fuck about that, though. He’s been stringing Cidney along for months while he figures his shit out, and she’s going to be fucked over when he decides that he won’t be keeping her, because I don’t think he will.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he grinds out. “None of this shit is any of your goddamn business.”
He’s not wrong. But I also don’t care.
“I’m making it my business,” I state.
Ivy grunts but doesn’t hang up the phone the way I expect him to. Instead, he humors me and has a short conversation, clearly not wishing to go into too much detail.
“I’m never going to fuck Cidney over. She’s my family, and I think of her as a daughter. So, no matter what, I will always have her back. The fact that you’re calling me about this and attempting to call me out is fucking asinine.”
He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly and continuing. “That being said, I’m not sure I want you there, but at the same time, I’m glad I have someone who is going to protect her. But, Goose?” he asks, waiting for me to answer before he continues.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t get in the middle of my shit with my family. I will never let anything happen to her. You want to protect her, that’s good, but the rest? Stay the fuck out.”
“Don’t think I will,” I grind out. “She’s got no job and is waiting for you, thinking you’re opening up your practice, when you and I both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Do you?” he asks. “Why don’t you fucking enlighten me on it, then?”
This conversation shouldn’t be happening. I got all in my own head about Cidney and her career, her finances, and then there was the thought that she’ll likely move if she does lose her job, meaning she won’t be here. She won’t be close to me. And that shit just does not work for me.
But I don’t tell him any of that.
He’d probably drive over here and beat my ass for uttering those words. “Just be honest with her, Ivy. She deserves that much.” Instead of waiting for a response, I end the call and walk out of the bedroom, shoving my phone in the inside pocket of my cut before I make my way out to the living room.
When I walk into the living space, I stop at the sight in front of me. Cidney is sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, her legs swinging back and forth as she looks down at her phone. I don’t say a word, content in watching her, but she must sense my presence because she slowly lifts her head, and her eyes find mine.
Neither of us speaks as our gazes connect and stay that way for longer than is probably comfortable. But I can’t move. I can’t even fucking breathe. She is so goddamn beautiful sitting there.
CHAPTER THREE
GOOSE
Cidney makesdinner for us after some arguing, mostly me trying to get takeout delivered, but she insists that it’s easier to make dinner here. When the food is ready, I sit down at the table and take in everything in front of me.
It’s nothing special, except it’s absolutely special. It’s pasta with a cream sauce, shrimp, and broccoli. I’ve only ever seen anything like this at a restaurant before, and certainly not a fucking restaurant here in Thunder Rock.
“I didn’t know you were a chef.” I dip my chin at the plate before I lift my gaze from the food to meet hers.
She snorts. “I’m not. I cook the same three meals because they’re the only ones I can make without fail, and this happens to be one of them.”
“That’s more than I can do. So, to me, you’re winning.”
Her lips twitch into a smirk. A sexy-as-fucking-sin smirk. I want to slip my cock past those lips and down her throat right here at the fucking dinner table. I don’t do that, as much as I want to. I decide to focus on the food and not her mouth.
Then I start a conversation to keep from shoving my dick down her throat after the first bite of heaven. Whatever she did to this pasta, the sauce, the shrimp, I don’t know, but fuck me, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
“I need to go to the grocery store if you’re going to stay here for any length of time. I’m running low on just about everything. I wasn’t anticipating this, and also, why is this even happening?”
There’s a lot she’s saying with those few questions, and she wants a lot of information at the same time. I start to respond to her, but take another bite and think about how to proceed.
“Your protection should have never been pulled,” I state. “Jeffrey Hagerty doesn’t fucking exist.”
She doesn’t say anything immediately, which I take as a sign to continue speaking. “We can’t find him, and we’re all worried that means you’re in danger.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t exist?” she asks in a whisper.
