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He could just picture it. Some woman’s little car coming up the drive. Nate opening the door for her. The house would smell like whatever perfume she’d put on. She’d laugh at Nate’s deadpan jokes and she’d sit on the kitchen counter, Leo’s counter, swinging her feet, and Nate would cook something instead of ordering pizza because that was the kind of thing you did for the living.

And then. Well. The sleeping bag was not built for two, so Nate would claim the master suite upstairs and put a bed in it.

And lie in it. Not with Bartholomew, but with her.

No.

Absolutely not.

Leo couldn’t say why, but he hated that thought.

No, he could say why.

It was a security concern.

Leo turned away from the fence and drifted back toward the house, through the garden, straight through the porch railing. Nate wanted to bring some stranger into the house. Someone who knew nothing about the manor. Who’d want to paint over the woodwork, probably. Who’d complain about drafts.

Who didn’t know that the drafts were him.

Behind him, Nate’s boots came up the porch steps. Leo arranged himself in the sitting room and studied the fireplace as if he’d been conducting an inspection of it for some time.

Nate came in, set his phone on a sawhorse, and looked at the room. Then at Leo.

“Everything all right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re staring at the fireplace.”

“So? Am I not allowed to look at my own fireplace?”

“Sure.” Nate went to the kitchen. Leo heard the refrigerator open, and when he drifted into the kitchen a minute later, Nate was leaning against the counter, eating cold leftover pizza straight from the box. No plate. No table.

Leo regarded him for a moment, then, unable to stop himself, he said, “No wonder Sophie thinks you need a woman in your life.”

Nate stopped chewing. “What?”

“Did you think you could have a secret conversation in the garden and I wouldn’t hear you?”

Nate set the pizza slice down. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Were you hiding in the hedges?”

“I may have been standing near a hedge.”

“Uh-huh. You were eavesdropping.”

“I was not. I was patrolling my garden. That’s my job.”

“Sure. Patrolling the garden and listening to my private phone calls.”

“You’re missing the point.” Leo crossed his arms too. “It’s a security issue.”

Nate hummed and nodded, not at all taking Leo seriously.

“I mean it!” Leo pressed on. “And besides. The whole concept is ridiculous. A dental hygienist. Think about how many mouths that woman has her hands in all day. Dozens! Daily! And then she’d come here and touch the doorknobs and everything!”

Nate laughed.

“What?” Leo demanded.