“There’s just one more thing.”
“Well, spit it out, Kincaid. I’m freezing my cock off.”
“Gray’s making plans to stop in Miami on her way back from Mallorca.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Unable to reinin her attraction to the knife-throwing, gun-toting, militant meddler, Eve slowly made her way back to the kitchen window under the pretext of having to wash her empty coffee mug. She made it to the sink in time to see Adam’s spine snap to attention.
Whatever the man with the ball cap had said, Mr. Bossy Pants wasn’t happy about it. “Who’s the new guy?” she asked Davis as he finished unloading about a week’s worth of groceries into the fridge before shutting the door.
“Grant Kincaid,” he replied, coming up beside her.
“Does he work for Adam too?”
“Yeah. He’s one of the good guys.”
The exact same wording he’d used to describe Adam the day before. Eve suspected the teenager suffered from a serious case of hero worship when it came to the men standing out in the cold. “Are thereanybad guys around here?” she teased, nudging him in the arm with an elbow.
She liked Davis. He was sweet, kind, and always ready to lend a hand. Yesterday they had laughed and joked over the best homemade hot chocolate she’d ever tasted. Today she knew her attempt at humor missed the mark when he looked at her, his hazel eyes serious as he shook his head.
“No,” he replied with a gravity that suggested he’d dealt with more than his fair share of assholes in his seventeen years. “Not around here. If there were, Jay would know about it, and they wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Stand a chance?”
His attention returned to the men outside. “Against Sam.”
Sam?
Confused, Eve followed his line of sight, and her gaze landed on Adam.
Tension cut through him, carving him out in sharp contrast to the pretty winter scene surrounding him, a deadly force kept under tight control. Maybe the name slip should have tripped her alarm bells. Served as a warning. Infused her with caution.
Instead, she found herself wanting to lay her hands on him. Whether he went by Sam or Adam—didn’t matter. A man who carried the heavy weight of command on his back, he held his stress in the clench of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, and the stiffness of his spine.
She could help him.
If he would let her.
As a physical therapist, she could tell by his rigid posture which trigger points needed release, which tendons needed stretching, which body parts needed massage. Give her twenty minutes, and she’d have his muscles loose and relaxed.
As a woman, her interests went beyond an appropriate patient-therapist relationship. Give her twenty minutes and she’d have his muscles loose and relaxed in a manner that left him spent and her happily basking in a postorgasmic afterglow.
Both scenarios were unrealistic.
Despite having shared the same bed the last two nights in a row, Adam kept her at a respectable distance. Yes, he would do anything necessary to keep her out of danger, but as far as he was concerned, she was a problem that needed solving, nothing more.
A few extra boxes added to the mental to-do list she was positive he kept. Get Eve on her feet. Check. Make sure she’s safe. Check. Send her on her way. Check. Forget about her altogether. Check.
Okay. The last one was unfair. Adam wasn’t someone who forgot his responsibilities, and that’s what she’d become. A responsibility. A duty. A stranger he felt obliged to protect because of who he was at his core.
She didn’t want to be any of those things.
Not anymore.
The day her parents died the Matthews had become her legal guardians as stipulated by her father’s will. In time, she thought they’d grown to love her. Accepted her as family. She couldn’t have been more wrong. She was an outsider. Always had been.
If she hadn’t realized it before, she certainly did now.
