She was tempted to tell him it wasn’t his job to take care of her anymore, but that would just start a fight, and she didn’t want to fight with him while he was helping her. “Well, thanks for coming.”
“So it was just open when you got home?”
“Yeah. Aspen forgets to lock it sometimes.”
The muscles in his back visibly tensed. “Have you received any more of those notes?”
Her gaze shifted to the note on the hall table. The note she’d dropped there when opening the front door for Lock. “I, um, received another one…today.”
He paused and turned. “What did it say?”
“Something stupid about my hair.”
Lock’s jaw tightened.
Shit. She needed to change the subject. “Are you finished?”
He straightened, the muscles in his arms once again contracting with his movement.
Jesus, had his arms gotten bigger in the last two years? It didn’t seem possible because they’d always been huge.
He closed the door and the click of the bolt catching was loud, making relief wash through her belly. Good. The door wouldn’t be opening again. She should be safe.
She forced herself not to fiddle with her fingers as she looked back at him. It was a nervous habit, something Lock knew, and shedid notwant him to know she was nervous to have him in her space.
“Thank you. If you could send me an invoice—”
His growl cut off the words in her throat. “You arenotpaying me to make sure your home’s safe, Callie.”
“Lock—”
“No.”
Oh Jesus. He was using that deep, growly voice again. “Well, thank you then.” She didn’t look at him when she said it.
Dammit, Callie, grow a backbone.
When the silence stretched, she finally looked up. He was watching her so closely that she was almost scared he could see every secret inside her. He’d always had a freaky way of reading her far too well.
“What is it?” he asked quietly. “The door’s fixed. No one’s getting through. Is it the notes that are upsetting you?”
He knew she was upset. But it wasn’t just the notes or the door…
“It’s my dad.”
Lock’s brows slashed together, and he stepped closer again. They stood so close now that all she had to do was reach out and she’d be touching him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to tell him, but closed it, scared that if she did, she might cry. Dammit, why was she feeling so emotional today?
He kept watching her, and it was one of those moments where the sympathy in the other person’s eyes made you want to cry anyway.
He closed that last bit of space and cupped her cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath because that touch… God, it was everything. Warm. Familiar. Comforting.
“Callie. You can talk to me. You can tell me anything.”
“He’s sick,” she whispered.
