Page 77 of Out Of A Fix

“That would be counterintuitive, wouldn’t it?”

“She’s an heiress or something.”

“I’m well aware.”

I cleared my throat. “Anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Her parents really like me. So do her sister and brother.”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I just thought, you know, rich people.”

“Yeah, but you’re reasonably intelligent, not bad-looking, and wear a suit well.”

“Fuck. Off.”

I was laughing when he hung up.

Grabbing the keys from the hook, I was heading toward the garage when the door opened to three loud staccato beeps, followed by a robotic announcement.

I couldn’t help copying it. “Garage door open, back door open, front door open.”

“Where are you going, and why are you talking like our alarm system?” Luke asked as he walked into the mudroom from the garage.

Our. Not my alarm system, but ours. As in his family’s, which included me. Did he even hear himself when he spoke?

It was stupid, but I could feel the smile on my face as I stared at Luke Duchesne. I didn’t recall the jeans being that tight when he walked out the door earlier in the morning, but I noticed now. Those legs of his had to be something under the buttery denim.

“Nash?”

I lifted my head quickly, mortified he might have noticed me, and felt my cheeks heat like I was twenty-two, not fifty-two. “Sorry, I—the voice is the same on the alarm I have at home, so I think it’s drilled into my psyche at this point.”

He nodded, shut the door behind him, then closed the distance between us, studying me, scrutinizing me, then reaching out and taking hold of my hips. I had to wonder if he knew he did that. A lot. I was guessing no.

For the past eleven days since he got home, twelve counting today, he had constantly been in my space. He bumped me, touched me, held my jacket so I could put it on, opened doors, and more than anything, took hold of me and steered me places. My initial thought had been that he did it to everyone. But the people I saw him with—neighbors, friends, coworkers—none did he stand so close to, put his arm around the back of their chair, or take hold of. It seemed I was the only one he was touching possessively, other than his kids. He would grab Griff’s shoulder, Tatum’s hand, Darwin’s arm the same way he did with me, like I belonged to him. And I loved it, of course I did, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t messing with my head.

“You must not have fallen,” he said, and I noted how dark and warm his eyes appeared. Like looking at me was making them heat. “I’m happy about that.”

“What?”

“You said you were going up on the roof to move a camera.”

“Oh no, I haven’t done that yet.”

“Well, maybe you wait on that.”

Instead of committing, I said, “What’re you doing home?”

“Getting hit on by new transplants to town was my single appointment for the day, so I’m working from home now.”

“That’s great. Now I can run some errands and you’ll be here to accept deliveries.”

“Deliveries?” he asked, letting me go but remaining close, in my space. I could feel the heat rolling off him.

“It’s a lot of kids,” I reminded him, “so it’s a lotta food, right? I didn’t have room in the Jeep for everything. But the store said they could get everything over here by⁠—”

“What’re you talking about?”