“Understood.”
“I mean it. Even if Jonah’s not here during the day, I don’twant to come back home and find you getting screwed by your boyfriend on my couch.”
Her eyes flare with that now-familiar spark. “You seriously think I’d do that? Bring my boyfriend here so I could fuck him in the middle of the day?”
No, I don’t actually think she’d do something like that. But the image of it in my head has me ready to bare my teeth.
So she does have a boyfriend. I’d like to meet the man who managed to wrangle this wildcat into a relationship.
Whether to shake his hand or to punch him, I’m not sure.
“I don’t care what you do when you’re alone here,” I say. “But you better bealone.”
I know I’m in trouble when her eyes get that glitter in them. When she gives me that fake but still gorgeous smile that makes my blood pressure spike and my cock hard.
“I can have plenty of fun alone,” she says sweetly. “Don’t need a boyfriend to have a good time all by my lonesome. Just maybe knock first, or you’ll get an eyeful.”
The image of what that would look like floods my brain. Sadie, touching herself everywhere…
It stuns me into silence.
She bats her eyelashes at me. “Or should I say,anothereyeful?”
Such a brat.
This girl is going to drive me insane.
And she’s living under my roof for the next threemonths.
What the fuck have I done?
“Your room is this way,” I tell her, leading her up the stairs. “Think you can handle the stairs or need some assistance?”
She smiles fake-sweetly again. Somehow Sadie Sullivan can make a smile look like a middle finger in the air. It’s atalent.
I push open the door to the guest suite I got ready for her. The bed is made with crisp white sheets. There’s a breeze fluttering the curtains. I stacked her bag and purse neatly at the foot of the bed, by the antique wooden storage chest waiting to be filled with her things.
I spent way too long fussing over everything. Making sure the lightbulbs were all brand new, that the towels were crisply folded, that there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere to be seen. But she doesn’t need to know any of that.
“Hope this’ll do,” I say gruffly.
Her eyes widen as she takes it in. She walks in slowly, then goes and stands by the window and looks out at the view onto the mountains.
“It’s perfect,” she says. “Thank you.”
It’s a rare hint of softness from her, so I decide to push my luck. “So. Your momma is sick?”
Shit. There was probably a less blunt way to introduce that subject.
She gives me a guarded look. “It’s a chronic condition.”
“What condition?”
“Her kidneys are no good. She’s on dialysis.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A half-shrug. “It’s under control right now. But she’s not so great at taking care of herself.”
