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The idea of training with someone else made my heart thunder with a feeling of absolute wrongness. Maybe I didn’t need to change trainers. And why couldn’t I let myself be attracted to another man? Where was the harm in following my true desires, especially now that Rory was happily in a relationship? It hadn’t escaped me that I made a terrible role model for my pansexual sister. But I’d always been torn about encouraging her to be out with our family since I knew it would bring nothing but scorn and stress.
The streets I passed grew darker as I left Hobie for the more rural area where the farmhouse was. Finally I reached the end of the small road and turned into my driveway. I glanced in my rearview mirror in time to see Saint’s truck pull in behind me. Motherfucking asshole thinking I needed protecting like some kind of victim.
But it was sweet, right? I had to admit to myself it made me feel cared for, looked after. And if I ever stripped away the bravado bullshit, I might just admit to myself, and only myself, that it was my wildest dream to have someone else take charge for once. The idea of someone else protecting me was a deep, dark fantasy that had always been there despite my wishes to rid it from my subconscious.
Instead of pulling around back to the garage, I slammed the car into park in the driveway and got out, storming over to his vehicle. His face remained neutral as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted at him. My anger took me by surprise, and I suddenly realized I was terrified of him seeing the state of my house and learning the truth. That I hadn’t been brave enough to clean up all the mess yet. That I’d pushed all the furniture around late the night before to be able to cover the doors and windows inside. “You think I can’t protect myself? You think you can just follow me—show up here like you’re some kind of… what? Bodyguard? Concerned lover? Or were you just looking for the booty call I promised?”
“Augie—”
“No. Go home, Saint. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” I turned to walk toward my front door when I heard him say my name again.
“Augie!” he called.
I spun around and glared at him, trying desperately to ignore how badly I was shaking. “What?”
“I was worried about you. That guy set off my alarm bells. He could have followed you home and gotten to you once you were alone. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I care about you.” Saint’s eyes had stopped appearing neutral and now looked worried again. “Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”
“Maybe it’s just what comes with having lots of money and a big name, Saint. Or maybe someone is secretly lusting after me and decided to stalk me. Did you ever think of that?” The suggestion was so stupid, we both should have laughed. But we didn’t.
He looked worried for another moment before his face transformed into one of determination.
“Bullshit,” he said in a low growl. “You’re terrified. Something’s going on that has you on edge, but you’re too damned stubborn to ask for help.”
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Instead, some base part of me decided to forget all that bodyguard/danger nonsense and just kiss him right on the damned lips.
Chapter 14
Saint
It was like Augie was hovering between two choices. The one where he would tell me to fuck off and leave, and the one where he’d admit what was happening and let me help him.
What I didn’t expect was a third, completely different, choice. The one in which he leaned forward and came up on his toes as if he was going to kiss me. My gaze traveled down to his soft red lips, and my stomach began swirling with anticipation. I felt my own lips part as my head lowered, and just before I reached to put a hand on his jaw, I heard the unmistakable sound of another car pulling into the gravel drive.
I immediately turned and stepped in front of Augie, cursing myself for leaving my weapon in the car. Warm hands came to rest on my lower back, and I felt goose bumps rising on my skin. Augie shifted behind me until he could see the car in the drive.
“Easy, killer. It’s my grandfather,” he murmured. The words went straight into my ear, almost making me shiver as the warm breath slid against the skin under my collar.
I craned my neck to see past the headlights, and sure enough, an older man began to emerge from the back seat of the sleek black vehicle. He was elegant and poised in a business suit that probably cost more than I made in a month. His hair was a perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper style that made him look as distinguished as his reputation. Despite being surprised at how young he looked, I assumed I was looking at Jonathan Stiel.
