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I swiped away my tears. I couldn’t think that way. I had to stay positive.
After all, I’d been worried about moving out. And so far, my concern seemed unnecessary. She was doing well, all things considered.
Despite all the thoughts swirling in my head, I must have drifted off at some point. But when I awoke, it was with a start. I squeezed my eyes shut and strained for any sound, wondering if I’d imagined the chime of the house alarm.
I blinked a few times and pushed my hair away from my face. But then I heard it, the double chime signaling that a door had been opened or—more likely—closed.
I grabbed my phone and checked the security app, my heart racing all the while. The security app confirmed my fears—someone was in the house. My mind spun with possibilities.
They hadn’t triggered the alarm, but that didn’t mean they’d been given the code. A sophisticated alarm system like this would attract experienced burglars. Ones who might know how to disable it.
With shaky hands, I pressed the button to alert the alarm company. They would inform the police.Oh god, Vincent.
I wondered how the intruder had made it past the security guard. What if they’d hurt him? I wasn’t safe.
I crept toward the stairs before backtracking to the media room, where a new shipment of sports memorabilia had arrived. I grabbed the first thing I saw—a hockey stick autographed by the goalie for the Hollywood Hawks—and tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as I could.
I’d intended to slip out the front door. Maybe hide in the garden or the pool house until the police came. But when a light turned on, I froze, momentarily unsure what to do next.
Perhaps acting on instinct, I lifted the hockey stick and spun to face the intruder, only to stop short. “Knox?”
I hesitated, stick poised in midair, my brain still processing.
Knox Crawford.
Owner of the Leatherbacks, LA’s pro soccer team.
A billionaire.
And my ex’s dad.
Standing in the foyer staring at me.
He set down his bag. “Kendall?”
“I…” I furrowed my brow. “Yeah. Um.” I shook my head as if to clear it. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He muttered something that sounded a lot like the same in reverse.
And then I remembered why I was here, and that I was supposed to be doing a job. “I hate to ask this, but does the owner know you’re here?”
He chuckled, dragging a hand through his dark brown hair. Silver flecks lined his temples and beard, and creases formed at the corners of his blue eyes when he smiled. “Iamthe owner.”
“Oh.” I lowered the hockey stick and cringed. “Sorry.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What are you doing here? And why are you wearing…” He cleared his throat. “That.” His eyes lingered on my skin, burning a trail so hot it had me wishing I could strip away what little remained.
But then I peered down at myself and cringed. I was wearing a silky tank top with black-lace trim and matching boy shorts.If only the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
My ex’s dad was my new boss. And he’d just seen me in my underwear. While brandishing an autographed hockey stick that was probably worth more than the contents of my suitcase.
Before I could die of embarrassment, the doorbell rang.
Through the glass panes, I could see the red and blue lights of a police car. An officer pounded on the door, and I shot a desperate glance at Knox. “I’m so sorry. The Hartwell Agency said…”
He leaned his head back, understanding dawning on his face. “Ah. So, you’re the house sitter.”
I nodded. “Yes. I thought you were an intruder. I thought…”
