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“Hey.”
“He’s never going to sleep now,” she teased me.
“That’s my fault,” Iain added, leaning against my shoulder, pointing to himself.
His hair tickled my jaw. My breath caught, and I struggled not to fidget.
Why the hell was he still sitting beside me? And why the fuck did he always smell so good? Like leather and citrus.
I’d been in training all day, so I probably smelled like stale sweat.
I turned and glared at him, but he just laughed and shook his head.
“Kathryn Everly,” my mom announced. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holloway.”
“Iain, please.”
What? He never told strangers to call him by his first name, but now my family was the exception? I’d entered some kind of twilight zone.
“So nice to put a face to the name. Dawson talks about you all the time,” she added.
“Does he?”
“Do you mind?” I turned to him, my cheeks hot. “I’m having a personal conversation.”
“Then why do you have it on speaker?”
I had no reply to that.
“Not to be rude, but your son is kind of a grump,” Iain said and pointed to my face.
“He doesn’t get that from me,” she fired back.
“Anyway,” I interrupted. “Mom, are you sure you’re gonna be okay for the next few weeks?”
“I will be fine.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow then. Love you.”
“You too. Be safe.”
I tappedendand turned to Iain.
“What the fuck was that?” I demanded.
“That was me saying hi to your mom. And your son. Who, by the way, is your twin. Only, he’s into music, so he’s way cooler. And he’s nicer.”
“That’s ’cause he’s never had to work with you.”
“He’s eight. He shouldn’t be working at all.”
“Smart ass.”
Iain smiled at first, and then, just as quickly, a look of sudden panic crossed his face.
“I’m getting strange text messages from unknown numbers,” he blurted out.
“What?”
