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He crouched down to her height, sliding off his sunglasses. “Yes, but you treat their things respectfully, and what’s the other rule?”
She sighed. “No climbing up too high.”
“Go ahead,” he said softly. He held out his fist, and she bumped it before running off with Emmett. They whooped and hollered like little savages, and I smiled as the sound disappeared into the backyard.
Aiden straightened.
And we were alone.
“I’ll grab the fuses I have,” he said. “Hopefully, one will work.”
With a nod, I watched him open a steel-plated toolbox in the bed of his truck. Watched the stretch of his back, the way the muscles in his arms bunched as he moved items that I couldn’t see. And his ass in the jeans he was wearing. I almost whimpered.
So yes, if I was guilty of anything, it was my complete physical objectification of this man. Yes, he was so much more than a beautiful body, but holy hell, his body was so, so nice to look at.
I wanted to do things to that body and let it do even more to me.
I opened the door when he reached the front step and followed him into the entryway. Head tipped, he took in the staircase curving up to the second floor, the wall of framed pictures that covered the wall leading to the kitchen, dining, and family room.
At the end of the display, there was one that made him pause—me, my sisters, and Emmett when Lia and Claire finished their undergrad. The twins in their cap and gown were flanked by Molly and me as Emmett stood front and center, sticking his tongue out at the camera.
“He’s your nephew, you said?”
“Yeah.” Then I laughed under my breath. “But sometimes it feels like he’s our little brother. We have a”—I paused—“unique family tree.”
He hummed. “All that teenage anger you mentioned.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah.”
Aiden studied the line of pictures, and I wondered what he was thinking. His gaze landed on one of me, Logan, and Paige when I was sixteen.
“Your mom left the four of you.”
He stated it so simply, without any inflection, that it didn’t knock the breath out of me. Again, I nodded.
When he turned, his eyes held a dangerous edge. “I’d be pretty fucking angry too.”
My smile was wide, my laughter unexpected. But it felt really good. Aiden’s expression softened.
I stood next to him and looked at the picture. “That’s the anger you caught”—I glanced sideways at him—“a couple of weeks ago. My sister invited her to their wedding, and I … didn’t handle it well,” I said wryly. “Maybe I’m still not handling it well.”
Aiden watched me with heavy-lidded eyes. Something about my honesty seemed to affect him the most.
“So I don’t need to expect attacks like that often?” he asked. “I’ll keep my guard up if I should.”
“No,” I answered around a small smile. “You don’t.” At his nod, I breathed just a little easier. “I’ll show you where the utility closet is.”
I brushed past Aiden, my arm grazing his where my shirt had slid off my shoulder, and I felt the small touch down to my toes because his skin was warm and firm. As he followed me, he was quiet, but I got the sense he was studying our home. Studying me.
We passed the guest room and a bathroom, turning by the doorway that led to Logan’s office. Aiden paused, glancing inside. Over my shoulder, I saw him peering at the Washington Wolves paraphernalia lining the walls. Two framed jerseys hung centered over the couch along the back wall from Logan’s professional career and college. Photos of him and Paige, the sisters, and Emmett adorned the wall behind his desk. On the dark wood surface were two massive computer monitors and neat stacks of books and binders.
“No trophies out,” Aiden commented.
I smiled. “I think they’re in a box in the closet.”
His eyebrows popped up briefly. “Mine will probably end up there too. I can never figure out how to display them without seeming pompous.”
“The burden of greatness?” I teased lightly.
