She pushed up on her elbows. “You don’t sleep, do you?”
“Not much.”
Her eyebrows knitted together. Then, she pushed out of bed, fished her weapon out of her handbag, and set it on the night table. “Take a nap with me.”
“Is that code for more sex?”
Smiling, she lay down. “No, it’s English for ‘time to get some shut eye’.”
Her gaze stayed locked on him as he slid his gun under his pillow. “Hmm.” She snuggled close. “I’ve got your back,” she murmured.
Sin hated showing vulnerability, but he wouldn’t sleep without his weapon nearby. Pulling her close helped relieve his tension. Their breathing fell in line. She kissed his chest. “I really like you, Sinclair Develin. Please don’t hurt me.”
A pain stabbed his heart. He would never do to her what had been done to him. “Never,” he murmured as his eyes fluttered closed.
He woke, temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight streaming through the picture window. Squinting, he glanced at the time. It was after eight. Evangeline wasn’t in bed, so he tugged on black jeans and a Henley, collected his Glock and his phone, and went in search of her.
The smell of bacon wafted through the house and he found her cooking what appeared to be a feast. Bacon sizzled in the pan, six slices of bread waited in the toaster oven. She wore his black shirt, no pants.Sexy and adorable.She turned and smiled. Seeing her in his clothes with her sleepy face and tousled hair made things real.
I could wake up to her every day.
“There she is.” He went to her and kissed her.
“I’m glad you got some sleep.”
He eyed the six eggs cooking on the stovetop. “Are we expecting company?”
“Sex makes me hungry.”
He laughed. “Are you sharing?”
“Most of this is for you.”
“You want help?”
“You can pour the coffee and orange juice.” Then, she stopped. “Do you even eat any of this?”
“Everything looks great.” He poured their drinks and set them up at the island.
“This house is phenomenal. The views are spectacular.” She dished out their breakfast. “I can’t remember the last time I was at the beach.”
She sat beside him and sipped her coffee while he forked egg into his mouth. “Delicious breakfast. Thanks for making it.”
His phone buzzed and he read the incoming text. “You should be dead, but you aren’t…yet. Make it a good New Year. It’ll be your last.” Muscles running along his shoulders turned to steel, fury coursing through him. He set the phone face down on the granite counter.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“When you’re angry, you make this growly sound.” She set the half eaten piece of bacon on her plate and swiveled toward him. “‘Don’t hurt me’ means being honest with me.”
He handed her his phone and she read the text.
When she lifted her face, determination shone from her eyes. She left the room, returning with her weapon, which she set on the island. “My gut tells me this is Uncle Charlie.”
“Same.”
“He’ll regret ever sending that.” Squaring her shoulders, she finished her breakfast in silence.
