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And who’s at the door? Probably the fucking man himself or someone who knows him at least. It is his house after all.
I feel my shoulders sag for a moment before I straighten myself.
If I have to go down, I’ll go down with my chin up and chest out. And not without a fight for what I really came here for.
Swinging the heavy front door wide, I see a guy about the same height as me, maybe even the same weight. But a different shape altogether.
He looks startled for a moment, then he looks past me.
“Uh. Mr. Macy in?” he asks politely, holding a clipboard and a small package.
I turn to look around too, making sure I hear Krystal’s voice on the phone to her dad.
“Uh, no he’s not in right now,” I almost whisper and the delivery guy leans in, returning my hoarse dialog.
“Okay,” he rasps. “When he gets in could you have him give this to his neighbor, Krystal Carter? She’s not home but we often leave deliveries here for Jack and Krystal Carter. And vice-versa,” he adds with a knowing look.
“Just sign here, Mr...” he asks, handing me the clipboard.
“Mason,” I tell him, so quietly he looks at me like I have a screw loose.
It all makes sense once I return his clipboard clutching at my throat mouthing the word Laryngitis, then take the parcel and move to close the door.
“Oh, I see. Thanks a ton, Mr. Mason, hope you feel better soon,” he practically shouts and I close the door in his face, hoping Krystal caught none of it, but knowing the next time she sees the delivery guy he’s sure to talk to her about it.
I gotta tell her.
Leaving it so late will only making it worse.
Hearing Krystal’s voice getting closer, I tuck her parcel behind a pillow on the couch, just for now.
“Sure thing, dad. He’s right here. I’ll put him on.” She hands me the phone with a little shy smile and a shrug before moving into the kitchen.
Something in me shifts into gear. My survival, or most likely my dominant Alpha instincts.
I take charge of much more on any given day.
A phone call is nothing to me.
“Jack,” I greet him in the same hoarse whisper I used for the delivery guy. “How’re things? Say, thanks for sending Krystal to collect me. I really don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Jeez, Nate. You sound awful. You okay?” Krystal’s dad asks, full of concern.
“Oh, I’ll be much better soon. Just lost my voice a little is all.”
And moving so I can see Krystal in the kitchen. I get a full view of her perfect behind. “Just about to get something soothing down this throat of mine. Krystal’s gonna help me with that,” I tell her dad.
“Well, you couldn’t be in better hands,” he replies. “Look, I gotta run, just making sure you got in okay. Got everything you need,” he says.
“Oh, I’ve got all I need right here. Thanks again Jack,” I rasp, hanging up, feeling my lip curl into the smile of a man who not only knows what he wants but is staring right at it.
All for me.
Mine.
Chapter Seven
Krystal
“What were you two whispering about?” I ask Blake as he hands me back my phone, clearing his throat a little.
“Oh, you know. Guy stuff,” he says with a smug look on his face.
I feel my heart in my throat, suddenly wondering if Blake’s said anything to dad.
I mean, I practically, almost just about nearly made a pass at him before the phone rang.
Didn’t I?
Blake doesn’t seem fazed and only smiles wider when he senses my internal dilemma. Like he has a big secret that only he knows about.
I don’t like secrets, but that’s something else that Blake proves me wrong with.
Looking into his shining dark eyes and then feeling my own widen again as I take in his body stretching out the black T-shirt he’s put on.
I forgive myself for almost forgetting about what just nearly happened between us.
I wasn’t imagining it and I still feel that deep need inside me, so I do something I’ve never done.
I just come straight out and ask him about it.
Sort of.
Kind of.
I strongly hint at what almost just happened.
“How’s dad?” I ask trying to sound innocent. “Worried about leaving his only daughter alone with an older man?”
I’m trying to sound sexy, like Blake does naturally but when I try it comes out sounding sarcastic.
“He’s fine. Busy though by the sounds of it,” Blake answers coolly.
He seems to overlook my attempts at flirting if that’s what you’d call it and I’m loath to make another attempt just now.
“I’m thinking,” he announces after he finishes making the coffee I started, and slides a mug across the counter towards me.
I pick it up and take a gulp, eager to have something wet in my mouth but regretting it instantly, scalding my lips and tongue instead.
