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She slid down the kitchen counter. “It’s my house.” Ignoring him, she gave a step towards the front door. But the next minute, he’d picked her up again.
“Damn it, Blake...” she ranted as he rushed up the stairs with her in his arms.
“Get dressed,” he growled as he put her down in front of her room. “You’re not wearing a bra. I damn well don’t want any other man to see you like this.”
Before her brain had time to reassemble and make sense of what was happening, he’d put her down and was marching towards his own room. She was still standing where he’d left her when seconds later, he came out of his room again, buttoning up a shirt.
Just then, the doorbell chimed. With one heated look in her direction, he jogged down the stairs.
What was his problem, damn it? She was wearing a pair of perfectly respectable, very un-sexy, flannel pajamas. What was he going on about? Annoyed, she glanced down and gulped. The top two buttons had become undone, giving anyone around her a clear view of her boobs.
Blake’s heated gaze... Oh, my goodness.
––––––––
Blake closed the frontdoor and leaned against it for a moment. The police van would stay close by for the night.
The broken window had to be secured in some way until morning, when he’d be able to replace the glass. The local hardware store should have everything he needed to do that.
He glanced up the stairs before he entered the kitchen. Lindsay hadn’t appeared while the police were here. Hopefully, she’d be in bed.
In the kitchen he came to an abrupt halt. Crouching in front of the window, hammer in hand, was Lindsay.
“What the hell are you doing?” He reached her in two strides.
She hammered another nail into a piece of wood the size of the broken windowpane before she stood up. “Securing the window the best way I know how until the shops open tomorrow.”
“Damn it, Lindsay, that’s something I can do...”
“Why? I can use a hammer. My dad showed Charlie and me how to do basic things with a hammer when we were still at school.”
She’d put on another top over her pajama top, probably thinking that it hid the fact she still wasn’t wearing a bra. But her generous breasts were swaying freely as she moved, making it clear she hadn’t listened to him. Trying to conceal the way his body was reacting to her, he crouched down to check the window. It was good enough for the time being.
“You should think about installing a security system or at least have burglar bars put in for the downstairs windows,” he said.
“Nobody in Alisson has burglar bars,” she muttered, gathering the hammer and nails lying around.
“Nobody in Alisson has a psycho ex-boyfriend intent on hurting them.”
With jerky movements, she turned away and put the hammer and nails in a drawer. Ignoring him, she left the kitchen.
Swearing, he closed the blinds and switched off the lights. He probably shouldn’t have said that about her ex. But damn it, after everything that had happened, she was still hell-bent on doing things her way.
He stopped in front of his room. The door to her room was closed. Slowly, he moved towards it. It was quiet inside; she was probably in bed already.
But as he turned away, he heard the sound. She was crying. Fisting his hands, he quickly walked back to his room and closed the door behind him. His whole being was urging him to go inside her room, pick her up, and comfort her—the reason why he had to stay as far away from her as possible. Because if he were to touch her again...
Cursing, he switched off the light and glanced out the window. The police van was parked outside. For the time being, at least, Lindsay was safe.
He pressed his ear against the wall and stood like that until the crying stopped.
