Her face turns concerned. “Not even just to play for fun? Just for yourself?”
I take another pull of my drink. “Nobody knows. Everyone asks and I tell them I'm working on stuff, letting it percolate, but it's a fucking lie. The well is dry. I'm done.”
She's silent for long enough that I wish I hadn't said it. The pool glimmers beside us, and somewhere out past the tree line something is singing. Cicadas, frogs, the whole insistent chorus of a summer night out West.
“You're not giving yourself enough credit,” she says at last. “You've been through a lot. I'd bet you really are letting it percolate. You're in the cocoon phase now. Maybe it looks ugly. Maybe it looks like nothing's happening from the outside. But inside, you're transforming all the same.”
I give her a skeptical look. “Are you saying I'm a fuckin' butterfly?”
She grins at me. “That's right. Just you wait. You'll be spreading your wings in no time.”
The pool light catches the blue of her eyes as they rake down me again. God, she’s fucking gorgeous. How am I supposed to function when a mere smile from her makes me feel like I’m losing my mind?
I clear my throat. “How was Sutton's?”
Sadie seems to shake herself slightly, dragging her gaze back up to my face. There's color high in her cheeks that isn't from the whiskey. Not entirely.
She was checking me out.
“Rowdy,” she says. “Got my toes trod on a lot.”
My fingers tighten on the glass. “You danced?”
“A little.”
“With who?”
It comes out rougher than I wanted. A little possessive. A little territorial. I have no right to feel that way about this woman and I feel it anyway, because she's sleeping under my roof every night and taking care of my son every day and invading my thoughts and dreams.
So yeah, I’m feeling a little territorial.More than a little protective.
“A few people,” she says, and I catch her eyes dipping to my bare chest again before she hauls them back up to my face.
The thought of other men's hands on her makes my fists clench.
I close my eyes briefly instead.
The nanny,I repeat silently to myself. She’s the nanny, and she can do whatever the fuck she wants with whomever the fuck she wants. It’s none of my business.
“Is dancing a problem?” she asks. “Is this a Footloose situation, where I’m about to get scolded for my unseemly behavior by my stern taskmaster?”
I glower at her teasing. “Dancing’s not a problem. But Sadie…” I push a hand through my hair. “You’re young and beautiful and all alone.That’sthe problem.”
The color in her cheeks deepens when I let the compliment slip. “Why is that a problem?”
“I don’t need to tell you that in a small town people talk. Which means everyone knows your situation. Guys understand you don’t have a father in the picture. They know you don’t have a brother to look out for you. No boyfriend, either. They know there's nobody in your corner.”
I spin the glass around between my fingers as I continue, “My sister Josie never had to think twice about any of that. She always had me and Slade and Tanner and Rafe ready to fuck up anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way. I’m 6’5, 230 pounds, and there are four of me. Nobody gave my little sister trouble because nobody wanted to risk the wrath of her guard dogs.”
But you have no one.
I don’t say it aloud, but she seems to hear the unspoken words anyway.
I take the bottle and pour more whiskey into my glass. After a sip, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “So. Any of 'em give you trouble?”
“Walker.” My name in her mouth, even when she’s exasperated with me, is something I like to hear way too much. Although her eyes have softened since I explained where I’m coming from when it comes to her. “I told you I'd be fine.”
“I know what you told me.”
