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Fuming, Lindsay opened the cupboard to take out another glass and plate. She was still recovering from the incident earlier and had been hoping against hope Blake would realize how utterly ridiculous his idea to stay with her was.
But here he was, with luggage, making it clear he was going to sleep here. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were one big, open area, but the moment Blake had entered the room, the place seemed to have shrunk.
She was acutely aware of his every movement. The subtle tones of sandalwood and nutmeg that always surrounded him had seeped into her pores, making it impossible to smell anything else, even the delicious food Brooke had bought.
As she handed him his glass, Eleanor leaned forward. “So Blake, do tell us where you’ve been over the past few months. You made a quick appearance at Charlie and Logan’s wedding, but then you disappeared again. And call me inquisitive, but how on earth did you know Lindsay’s ex was on his way here?”
With his eyes on his glass, Blake nodded. Lindsay sat down on the chair next to him. These were all questions she was dying to ask but didn’t dare.
“I still do work for a previous employer on a consulting basis. So...” He turned to look at Lindsay, “When I heard about your ex—”
“Mark,” she interrupted. “Please don’t call him ‘my’ anything.”
“Let’s just say, I have contacts,” he finished.
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “So who did you work for? FBI? CIA? KFC? Oh, no, sorry, that’s chicken.” She grinned.
“Mom, seriously.” Brooke laughed, interrupting her mother. She got up. “Come on, let me get you home before you start asking Blake about his family tree.”
Blake grimaced and also stood up. “That’s easy. I don’t have one. Grew up in the system. Let me walk you outside.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and for a moment, Lindsay had the urge to put her arms around him. There was obviously more to his story than he was prepared to tell.
“Please let us know if we can do anything else,” Brooke was saying.
Both Brooke and Eleanor had picked up their handbags and were on their way to leave. Suddenly panicking, Lindsay grabbed Brooke’s hand. “Surely you can stay a little bit longer. There’s still so much food left.”
But Eleanor smiled and patted her hand. “We’ll be at the bar tomorrow night—we’ll see you then?”
Lindsay nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Within seconds, Brooke and Eleanor would be gone and she’d be left alone with Blake Davidson. Just the two of them.
Help.
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“You haven’t eaten anything yet,” Lindsay said, and pointed towards the food on the table. They were still standing after they’d both been out to see Eleanor and Brooke off. She was nervous. On edge.
“Have you eaten?” Blake asked. Maybe if they did something ordinary, like eating, the heat he could literally feel building up between them would diminish.
She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Being nearly hit by a car kinda robbed me of my appetite.”
“I’m here to make sure that won’t happen again. Glass of wine?”
She hesitated but then pulled out a chair. “Thanks. I’m not sure whether the food isn’t cold by now...”
He poured the wine and put a glass in front of her before he also sat down opposite her. “It’ll be fine.”
For a few minutes she sipped on her wine while he helped himself to the lasagna Brooke had bought.
“I really don’t think you have to stay here,” she finally said.
He didn’t answer but continued eating. He wasn’t wasting words on a conversation they’d already had.
“I’ll make sure the doors are locked. It doesn’t make any sense for you to also be here.”
He continued eating.
“Blake, damn it—you have to say something!”
“Eat.”
Muttering, she dished some of the lasagna into her plate. “I’m a big girl...”
He looked up; blue eyes met his. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
She inhaled sharply. “That’s not...I don’t... You make me so mad!”
“Eat.”
He finished his plate before he leaned back in the chair. Her eyes were on him, wary, questioning, and filled with another emotion he couldn’t quite figure out.
She didn’t eat much and after a few bites, she pushed her plate away. “I’ve eaten. Now talk.”
“There is an obvious disturbed individual hell-bent on getting to you, one way or another. Both your sister and brother are away at the moment. So I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What about the police or the sheriff’s department?”
“I can be here at night. In the same house.”
She glared at him. “I don’t like it.”
He had no answer to that. She got up and began clearing the table. He helped and within minutes, they’d cleaned the kitchen. He was trying his best to ignore the flowery scent surrounding her, the way she was chewing her lower lip, and her soft curls that touched him whenever he got too close to her.
“I’m going to bed,” she finally said. “Let me show you where you can sleep.”
“I’m happy to use the couch.”
“Not necessary. I’ve moved into Charlie’s old room. Gavin’s room is full of his stuff, but I cleared out my old room when I moved to Charlie’s. The bed is made up.”
Grabbing his bag, he followed her up the stairs, forcing his eyes to stay on her feet while one thought kept going round and round in his head. He’d be sleeping in her bed. Damn.
And she’d be close by. Oh, man. Clenching his jaw, he counted the stairs until they finally reached the second level of the house. After she was in bed, he would come down again to check that everything was locked.
Lindsay walked to the first door and opened it. “The room has its own bathroom. Let me know if you need anything. There should be clean towels...”
She turned; he’d stepped forward; they met up real close.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes on her soft lips. This close, her scent reeled him in. Quickly, he put his hand not holding the bag into his pocket.
“Good night,” she said, chewing her lip.
Damn, she was killing him. He nodded and waited for her to leave. But she didn’t.
For long moments they stared at one another. It would be the easiest thing to bring her closer, to kiss her. To pull that soft, lacy top over her head and to...
“You should go to your room,” he got out.
She didn’t immediately move.
With a groan, he put out his hand and touched her lips. “Otherwise, I’m going to kiss you. It’s all I can think of.”
This time, she fled.
He had to lean against the door frame for a moment as he watched her entering the room next to his. How the hell was he supposed to sleep, knowing she was on the other side of a thin wall?
Cursing a blue streak, he walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He was here to protect her. That was it.
The last time he hadn’t been focused on what he was supposed to be doing, someone got killed.
––––––––
There were still a million butterflies going crazy in her tummy by the time Lindsay switched off her bedside light. She’d tried to read. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried mindful meditation. After she’d broken it off with Mark, this technique had helped her feel whole again. And usually, when focusing on her breathing, keeping other thoughts at bay, she could relax.
But the thought of Blake Davidson’s eyes on her mouth simply refused to be kept at bay, or pushed to any other place than firmly in her mind.
Finally, she added two drops of lavender, eucalyptus, and peppermint in the diffuser she kept in her room. Hopefully, the relaxing aromas would help her to fall asleep. While Blake Davidson was sleeping in her old room. Only a short few steps from where she was lying.
Otherwise, I’m going to kiss you. It’s all I can think of. His words had lit a fire inside her, one that was still smoldering just below the surface.
She hadn’t thought she’d ever be interested in a man again, but one look from Blake all those months ago, and she’d realized whatever she’d felt for Mark paled in comparison to the overwhelming feelings she experienced when he’d first laid those chocolate brown eyes on her.
There. She’d admitted it. He annoyed her, he irritated her, but every single one of her senses responded to him.
Groaning out loud, she pulled the blanket over her head like she used to do when she was small and she wanted bad things to disappear.
It could all be explained: she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, Blake was devastatingly attractive, and on top of that, she was on edge because she’d nearly been run over by a car again. Probably also Mark’s doing. No wonder her hormones and dopamine levels were out of control.
The sound of glass breaking downstairs brought her quickly back to reality. With her heart racing, she threw the blankets off, jumped out of bed, and ran towards her door. There was another sound. Swallowing down her fear, she opened the door. The light in the corridor was on.
“Blake?” she called out, and moved towards his room. But the door to his room was open and he wasn’t inside.
She turned and rushed down the stairs. “Blake?” she called out again and stormed into the kitchen. He was standing over broken glass on the ground, shirtless, his phone against his ear. Her eyes zoomed in on his tanned, muscled six-pack. Oh, my.
“Don’t move!” Blake’s voice was urgent, but she’d already put her foot down.
“Ouch!” she called out and with one stride Blake had put his phone down and was beside her. Cursing under his breath, he picked her up. “Why the hell don’t you ever listen?” he growled.
Her hands landed on his naked torso and she quickly pulled them back. “I didn’t do anything wrong, don’t scold me! Why is there broken glass on the floor?”
He placed her on the kitchen counter and lifted her foot. “Your foot is bleeding. Band-Aid?”
“I can get it...”
“There are pieces of glass all over the floor. And you’ll bleed all over the place.”
“Seriously, Blake...”
“And ointment?”
Fed up with him, the stupid butterflies in her tummy, and her out-of-control hormones, she pointed to the medicine cupboard while she turned her foot to see what was going on.
She’d stepped on a miniscule piece of glass. “This is such a tiny piece of glass, I really don’t need ointment. Just a Band-Aid to stop the bleeding.” She pulled out the piece of glass as he approached with a Band-Aid and ointment in hand. “Give it to me. I assure you I can put a Band-Aid on my own foot; I’m a trained nurse.”
But he brushed her hand aside. “I’ll do it.” Bending his head, he proceeded to clean the wound. He’d showered, his hair was still wet. The scent of soap and man were playing havoc with her hormones, the butterflies in her tummy going wild.
“There you go,” he said gruffly and looked up. Brown eyes darkened; around the two of them, the air thickened.
She held her breath. If she moved an inch, she knew, she’d unleash something potent and exciting. Question was, was she ready for potent and exciting?
He stepped back; the moment passed. “Broom?” he asked.
She pointed towards another cupboard, looking away quickly. He did have swoon-worthy muscled shoulders and a killer backside, but she really didn’t have to actually swoon about it.
For the first time, she looked at the glass on the floor. She swept her gaze up to the window and inhaled sharply. “The window is broken...” she whispered.
Blake didn’t answer immediately but swiped all the pieces together.
“Blake? What happened to the window?”
He pointed towards a piece of rock sitting on the kitchen counter she hadn’t noticed before. “This was thrown through the window.”
She could literally feel the blood leaving her face. “Mark,” she whispered. “It has to be him. So he managed to get close to me...”
Before she could finish her sentence, the sound of a vehicle stopping right outside froze the words in her throat. It couldn’t be Mark? Could it?
Blake didn’t look at her but moved towards the door. “It’s the police. Go up to your room. I’ll deal with them.”
She slid down the kitchen counter. “It’s my house.” Ignoring him, she gave a step towards the front door. But the next minute, he’d picked her up again.
“Damn it, Blake...” she ranted as he rushed up the stairs with her in his arms.
“Get dressed,” he growled as he put her down in front of her room. “You’re not wearing a bra. I damn well don’t want any other man to see you like this.”
Before her brain had time to reassemble and make sense of what was happening, he’d put her down and was marching towards his own room. She was still standing where he’d left her when seconds later, he came out of his room again, buttoning up a shirt.
Just then, the doorbell chimed. With one heated look in her direction, he jogged down the stairs.
What was his problem, damn it? She was wearing a pair of perfectly respectable, very un-sexy, flannel pajamas. What was he going on about? Annoyed, she glanced down and gulped. The top two buttons had become undone, giving anyone around her a clear view of her boobs.
Blake’s heated gaze... Oh, my goodness.
––––––––
Blake closed the front door and leaned against it for a moment. The police van would stay close by for the night.
The broken window had to be secured in some way until morning, when he’d be able to replace the glass. The local hardware store should have everything he needed to do that.
He glanced up the stairs before he entered the kitchen. Lindsay hadn’t appeared while the police were here. Hopefully, she’d be in bed.
In the kitchen he came to an abrupt halt. Crouching in front of the window, hammer in hand, was Lindsay.
“What the hell are you doing?” He reached her in two strides.
She hammered another nail into a piece of wood the size of the broken windowpane before she stood up. “Securing the window the best way I know how until the shops open tomorrow.”
“Damn it, Lindsay, that’s something I can do...”
“Why? I can use a hammer. My dad showed Charlie and me how to do basic things with a hammer when we were still at school.”
She’d put on another top over her pajama top, probably thinking that it hid the fact she still wasn’t wearing a bra. But her generous breasts were swaying freely as she moved, making it clear she hadn’t listened to him. Trying to conceal the way his body was reacting to her, he crouched down to check the window. It was good enough for the time being.
“You should think about installing a security system or at least have burglar bars put in for the downstairs windows,” he said.
“Nobody in Alisson has burglar bars,” she muttered, gathering the hammer and nails lying around.
“Nobody in Alisson has a psycho ex-boyfriend intent on hurting them.”
With jerky movements, she turned away and put the hammer and nails in a drawer. Ignoring him, she left the kitchen.
Swearing, he closed the blinds and switched off the lights. He probably shouldn’t have said that about her ex. But damn it, after everything that had happened, she was still hell-bent on doing things her way.
He stopped in front of his room. The door to her room was closed. Slowly, he moved towards it. It was quiet inside; she was probably in bed already.
But as he turned away, he heard the sound. She was crying. Fisting his hands, he quickly walked back to his room and closed the door behind him. His whole being was urging him to go inside her room, pick her up, and comfort her—the reason why he had to stay as far away from her as possible. Because if he were to touch her again...
Cursing, he switched off the light and glanced out the window. The police van was parked outside. For the time being, at least, Lindsay was safe.
He pressed his ear against the wall and stood like that until the crying stopped.