“Don’t worry about it, Dare. I’ve made do with much less. This is wonderful,” he said though I barely heard him.
I was far too focused on the tingle in my arm where he was touching me. The way the sensation crawled up to the back of my neck, making my hairs rise and my throat tighten.
“If you need anything, let me know,” I managed to mumble.
“I…I think I’m okay. Although…” he paused.
“What is it? Tell me,” I almost leaned in closer to his face so that our lips were inches apart, but I pulled back, reprimanding myself mentally.
This was probably a bad idea. Inviting him into my home? It was a recipe for disaster. But I could do it, there was no alternative. I had to do it. I was stronger than my urges. Stronger than my desires. And my mind was stronger than my heart. I could do it—Zach’s safety depended on it.
“Could I have a towel? I think I might take a shower and wash all this…stress away,” he said.
I almost jumped away from him in response.
“Of course. Hang on,” I said and went into my bedroom only to return moments later with a couple of towels.
“Thanks. Would you mind if I go now?” He pointed to the bathroom door.
“No. Of course not. I’ll get started on lunch.”
“Oh you don’t have to go through all the trouble,” he said.
“No trouble.” I shook my head. “I haven’t eaten either and I bet you’re starving.”
“Okay,” he sighed with a nod.
After checking his dietary requirements and preferences, I let him get on with his shower and I returned to the kitchen with my herd behind me.
I was getting the vegetables out of the fridge when there was a knock on the door that sent Lookah into a frenzy and made my heart shoot right up my throat.
Had Victor found us? Had he followed us here? It couldn’t be. I’d made sure we weren’t followed.
I rushed to my bedroom, grabbed my gun, took the safety off and approached the door when the person knocked again.
I leaned into the eyehole and almost spat out in anger. Instead of taking it out on my floor, I threw the door open and took it out on him.
“Wyatt! What do you want?” I asked the older man standing on my doorstep.
He eyed my gun and raised an eyebrow.
“Planning to shoot me?” he asked.
“Don’t tempt me,” I growled. “What is it?”
I put the gun back under my waistband and Wyatt asked if he could come in. I wanted to tell him no, that he wasn’t welcome. That I didn’t want him or his macho energy anywhere near my home, but before I could articulate all that he stepped in.
“Nice place,” he said, hands in pockets, standing in the living room and pressing his lips together.
“Glad you like it. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if it didn’t have your seal of approval.”
Wyatt sighed.
“Oh Dare. Don’t be like that,” he said.
“How should I be?”
Lookah approached the big new giant in the house and sat by his side waiting for pets and scratches. I had to bite my tongue because Wyatt was the last person I wanted touching my dog.
