“No,” Kit said too quickly.
“You ran,” Red replied, softer now. “You poke. You mouth off. You test people until they react. That’s not confidence.”
Kit’s fingers curled against the edge of the table. “You don’t know me. I was a kid before.”
Red leaned forward, forearms braced, voice low. “You’re not my first client.”
He saw something. A flinch. Maybe disappointment in Kit’s stormy eyes. Did he want to be special?
He held Kit’s gaze, made damn sure the boy was listening.
“And I know this—until this is over, you stay close and listen. You don’t test me.”
Kit swallowed. Red saw everything. Saw the fight, the need, and relief tangle together in a way that made Red’s chest ache.
“And if I do?” Kit asked, defiant but unsure.
Red didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“If you do,” he said, “I’ll remind you why your brother hired me.”
The air went tight. Charged. Red felt it hum under his skin, the dangerous awareness of how close they were to crossing a line neither of them could uncross.
Kit looked away first.
“You’re bossy,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
“Grumpy.”
“Also yes.”
“And kind of terrifying.”
Red stood, chair scraping softly against the floor. “Good.”
He turned toward the hallway, forcing himself not to look back. “Finish your food. Then I’ll show you your room.”
As he walked away, Red was acutely aware of Kit’s gaze burning into his back. A boy who didn’t need answers as much as he needed something solid. Something steady.
Someone who wouldn’t leave.
Like his parents had. Like his brother had.
Red clenched his jaw.
He was the Daddy and from here on out, he’d damn well act like it.
He wouldn’t leave. Until he had to. But he didn’t want to think about that.
The tourof the cabin was going to take five seconds, if that.
Kit glanced around the stark bedroom. “It’s…nice.”
Red snorted. “It’s got a bed and a chest. That’s all you need.”
“No window.”
