Bray nodded toward the door, thinking I was cold from the temperature, not from the chill that had haunted me for years. “Let’s go back inside where it’s warmer. Agent Simmons will be here soon anyway.”
“He will? Why?” I asked and followed him inside.
“Because, as far as anyone at the station knows, he’s still on night patrol protecting you in Del Rio, which is only a half lie. But in reality, he’s bringing supplies: clothes, toiletries, things you need to stay here for a while. He’ll stay the night here with you too. I need to get back to the station.”
I stopped short. Any fantasy I’d had of falling asleep on the couch with my feet in his lap, still wrapped in our sweaters—or better yet, the same bed after we’d removed the sweaters and everything else—evaporated like mist. He was back to business. Treating me like an asset.Handlingme in the unfun operational sense of the word. Despite whatever moment we’d had on the patio, my fantasies were futile anyway. He’d never cross that line. He was too heroic.
I quietly sighed in disappointment and removed my shoes. The condo looked like a please-remove-your-shoes home anyway, and I figured I should get comfortable if I was staying awhile.
“You’re bringing me clothes and products and setting me up in this fancy condo like a sugar baby. You’re not going to Christian Grey me, are you?”
He looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Who?”
“Never mind. Can I order food, or is the fridge stocked?”
He rounded into the kitchen and opened the fridge’s stainless-steel door. “Looks pretty sparse; my parents haven’t beenhere for a while. If you want something ordered, just tell Simmons.”
“My own manservant to boot, not bad.”
Bray rolled his eyes and nodded toward the hallway. “Come here, I’ll give you a tour.”
I diligently followed across the dining room complete with a teak dining table and intricate chandelier that could have been displayed in a museum of modern art. “What, no geeky school portraits of the Bray children to line the walls?” I asked as we passed a pair of underlit oil paintings in the hall.
“You’d have to visit my parents’ house in Oakland for those. All you’ll get is custom art here.”
“I can’t imagine having two houses. I’ve never even hadone.” The words slipped out in wonder before I realized it.
I caught his sympathetic, if not guilty, gaze as we rounded into a bedroom. “You can have the main room; Simmons will take the guest room.” He pointed out the doorway back across the hall. I ignored him and instead threw myself on the cloud of a bed. The fluffy white comforter billowed around me like I’d jumped on a tent.
“This is even better than Del Rio.” I flipped over to make snow angels in the fluff and heard him laugh.
“Bathroom is through there. There should be plenty of towels. The floors are heated, and there’s a soaking tub and shower. Whatever you need.”
“I need this bed and a new identity so no one ever finds me here.” I hugged a marshmallow pillow, which smelled like lavender and jasmine.
He laughed again. “Come on, I’ll show you how the house system works.”
“There’s a system?” I reluctantly followed him out of the room.
By the time he showed me the alarm; how the touchscreensin the walls controlled the sound system, the lights, and could raise and lower the window coverings; and demonstrated how to navigate an unreasonable number of streaming options on the TV, I could tell caring for others was his true calling. He thrived in this element. And having him care formewas setting my body abuzz with a warmth I’d never known.
Agent Simmons arrived at the end of my tour.
“Ms. Daniels,” he greeted me with a curt nod. He’d rolled in a suitcase and carried two bags from Nordstrom before he’d returned out the front door for more supplies.
“It’s still creepy you know my size in everything,” I said to Bray and pawed through one of the bags Simmons had set on the kitchen island to find a cashmere sweater and two pairs of leggings.
“More like convenient,” Bray said.
Simmons returned with another suitcase, presumably his own, and a black case he carried in his hand, this one smaller and with a lock on it.
“Thanks, Mike,” Bray said and took it from him. Simmons nodded and headed down the hall toward the guest room, giving away nothing about how breaking rules might be making him feel.
“Is he the type of babysitter to stay up and play boardgames with me all night? Or am I going to be prying words out of him like barnacles from a rock?” I asked with a smirk.
Bray smirked back. He’d set the small case on the island and placed his hand on top of it. “He’ll follow your lead, but I don’t think he’s much for Monopoly. He’s more of a chess guy.”
“Pity. I was ready to take him for all he’s worth.”
