Page 60 of Temptation On Ice

“Mr. Montenegro doesn’t own this property or have any jurisdiction in this county, so you can move along and let my clients through,” I reply with an exasperated sigh. I’ll be having a chat with Sebastian about this. He shouldn't be making decisions that impact my business without at least talking to me about it.

“Look, Mr. Covington, we have a job to do and were given strict instructions to protect your peace, so the media isn’t all up in your business. That’s all we’re trying to do,” Rob says, dropping the macho bullshit and getting real. There it is. He doesn't sound half as bro’d up now.

I rub my palm over my cheek and cup my chin, scratching my jaw as I think through my response and find patience so I don’t lose it on this poor dude. It’s not his fault he was given stupid instructions and isn’t smart enough to execute them in a way that makes sense for the situation. Sebastian is the overprotective idiot who pulled the trigger on this dumb plan for some reason, and he’s going to have to answer for it.

“You can do that without blocking my driveway and keeping my business away.” I sigh and look around. “Just pull off to the side of the driveway and don't fucking block it again, or I’ll call the Sheriff and have you removed for trespassing, you feel me?”

Rob’s eyebrows rise under his ball cap, and he quickly looks at Derrick for some sort of confirmation that he heard me, too. I’m sure they’re not used to having someone threaten to have them removed. It’s usually the other way around.

“Uh, yeah, sure, man. If that’s what you want,” Rob says, sounding put out, and a little confused.

If this is the kind of security Sebastian employs for himself and Enzo, I’m going to have a few words with him and provide the name of a firm I know that employs former military and law enforcement. They know their stuff, and they’re legit. I wouldn't trust these buffoons to watch a lemonade stand, let alone his kid or his property.

I watch as they climb back into the Escalade and move it completely out of the driveway. I nod at Rowan and get in the truck, turn around, and wave at the clients to follow us back to the facility.

“Can you get the class started? I need to have a conversation with Sebastian about this situation so we can make sure those idiots are gone before the next group gets here,” I say when we park.

“Yeah, of course. Good luck with that, and don't be too hard on him. That was pretty nice of the guy. I can tell he had good intentions, wanting to help you out, even if it wasn't the best way to do it. It’s plain to see he cares about you,” Rowan says, patting my shoulder as he calls for the dogs to join him.

“He has a funny way of showing it,” I say, more to myself than him, as I walk toward my house while he goes to one of the training buildings.

Once inside, I grab a bottle of water and lean against the kitchen counter. Pulling out my phone, I debate whether to call or text Sebastian. The team flew to Chicago today for a game, so they’re probably in between practice and getting ready for the game tonight. He should be free, but if not, I’ll just text him to be safe.

Tucker: Why are there two dumbass security wannabees standing guard at the end of my driveway?

His reply comes quicker than I expected, and my phone is vibrating in my hand with a call a few minutes later. My heart leaps with anticipation, and I stomp down the excitement to hear his voice. I shouldn't be feeling anything other than annoyance.

“Hey,” I answer, trying to keep my tone even.

“Tucker,” he replies, voice low and growly with relief and possession.

The sound of my name does something stupid to my brain, softening my resolve more than anything can and making me melt against the cabinets.

“Yeah,” I rasp, and swallow the lump in my throat from my reaction to him.

He sighs. “I’m sorry for bringing this whole media circus to your doorstep. I asked the company I use to send a couple of guys to make sure no one gets onto your property while we’re still a hot topic. Please tell me they're not fucking things up?”

He’s given me enough time to compose myself, and I’m able to respond now without sounding like a lovesick fool. I reach for the irritation at the interruption to my day and my business because of his so-called good intentions.

“This isn’t how we handle problems out here in the woods. We get our shotguns, a tarp, and a pig farm if we need to, not some fancy security firm of idiots blocking my driveway all day and night, keeping my paying customers away. Your money isn’t good out here. Now, call off your guys, or I’ll get rid of them myself.”

“Fuck, Tucker, I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Sebastian snaps, sounding like he’s pacing wherever he’s calling from.

Oh, no. He isn’t going to play that card with me.

“I’m not some damsel in distress needing you to save me. Did you forget I was in law enforcement for over a decade? Maybe you didn't realize I have former military on my staff? Or that I have plenty of personal security measures in place to ensure my property is secure. Give me some fucking credit, Sebastian,” I say, the anger leaving my tone as exhaustion sets in. I rub my temples. I want him to understand he went about this all wrong and treated me like I’m inferior to him, and that’s not going to fly.

“What? No! I don't think you're a damsel or in need of saving,” he sputters, at a loss now that I’m laying out the facts he clearly didn't account for. “I just want to take care of this mess I dragged you into.”

Oh, Sebastian. My heart hurts for the man who always thinks everything is his problem to fix. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, wanting to relieve everyone else of their problems to make life easier, only to make his life infinitely more difficult.

“You don't have to take care of me,” I say gently, finally knowing where this is coming from. “I’m more than capable of doing that myself, and you already have so much on your plate. Please don't think you need to take on my burdens on top of what you’re already dealing with. If anything, we’re in this together, and we gotta share this shit. I wish you’d talked to me and asked what I wanted to do about it, rather than making decisions for me.”

“I didn’t think you…” He pauses, and I hear what he’s wrestling with, understanding the way his mind works after getting to know him, and seeing the situation through his eyes.

“You didn't think I wanted to talk to you about it? Or did you think I didn't want you anymore? Because they're both untrue,” I say softly.

“You told the media we’re just friends and told me to leave,” he says, sounding hurt.