Protect Me(62)

My eyes find Lia. She’s sitting at the picnic table having a tea party with Joss and Bean. She’s smiling at my niece, pretending to drink her non-existent tea and snacking on her little plastic cookies. She’s beautiful. Perfect.

“A parent just knows, Nate. Someday, you will understand,” she says as she kisses me on my scruffy cheek. “Now get back outside before your brother, Will, moves in on your lady,” Mom says with a firm shove.

“I’m going,” I say as I head towards the back door. “Thank you,” I throw over my shoulder.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

I head out the door and straight to the picnic table. I don’t know if Lia is ready to hear the words, but I’m getting close to saying them anyway. I just pray she doesn’t hightail it back to wherever it is she came from when I say it.





Chapter Ten


Lia




The knock on the back door sounds at exactly 6:35am signifying his arrival. I pull the door open without even really looking or giving it a second thought. A few weeks back, that never would have happened, but in the several weeks since I’ve known Nate, I feel so protected and safe. Especially since Jake and Erin’s wedding over a week ago. Something changed in him. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s different. Better. I feel like nothing could happen to me when he’s around.

“Good morning,” I say with a huge, school-girl-giddy smile plastered to my face.

“Mornin’,” Nate says as he steps inside the kitchen. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me tightly into his embrace. My favorite place.

His lips are on mine before the door is even closed. They are firm and dry, and taste vaguely like smoke which tells me he had a call not too long before getting off of work. He traces his tongue over the seam of my lips, begging me for entrance, which, of course, I allow. I moan as his tongue invades my mouth and his hands press firmly around my back. My hands dive into his hair. Man, I love his hair. It’s so silky and soft.

Somewhere distantly, a knock echoes on glass.

“I should have opened five minutes ago,” I murmur against his lips.

“Five more minutes,” Nate says as his hands splay against my back.

“Can’t, big guy. That’s Mr. Forrester waiting on his cup of coffee,” I tell him as I pull back. “I need to go unlock the door.”

“Fine,” he replies as he adjusts his erection in his pants. And boy is it some erection. For a second, I contemplate leaving the front door locked and pulling him inside the small office in back.

“Why don’t you just head upstairs and sleep. I’ll wake you up in about seven hours.”

“How are you going to wake me up?” he asks with that sexy eyebrow of his raised almost to the ceiling.

“Let’s just say that I promise to use my tongue,” I say boldly with a wicked grin. “And only my tongue,” I add with a wink.

Nate groans and his eyes flutter closed. Another knock sounds on the glass door. “I’m going upstairs, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. Not with that image of you and your tongue in my head.”

Nate places another lingering kiss on my lips before heading towards the back door. “Get up front before they start a caffeine riot,” Nate says before heading out the door.

I watch him go, savoring and committing to memory the view of Nate’s ass in worn jeans. After I quickly lock the door behind him, I head towards the swinging door. Time to get my day officially started. The quicker I get it going, the quicker I can end it and head upstairs to a waiting Nate.





*****




I practically sprint up the stairs at two o’clock carrying the still-warm cinnamon roll with cream cheese icing: Nate’s favorite. Avery whipped up a batch right before I left, and I stole one off the tray before she could get them all put in the display case. Mrs. Stevens’ cinnamon rolls are legendary, or so I’ve heard. And honestly, even if I didn’t have Nate and the Stevens family here, I’d still stick around for a bit just for the cinnamon rolls.

I step inside the apartment, eager to see Nate, and know that something is instantly off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my blood tingles in my veins. I glance around, not seeing Nate. He must still be sleeping in my bedroom.

I step into the tiny kitchen and look around. Nothing seems out of place. The coffee mug that Nate used when he got here is still sitting next to the sink, and the bowl I used for oatmeal this morning is sitting next to it. I have that same weird déjà vu feeling I had a month back. Someone has been here. I feel it. And that leaves me feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.