Controlled Burn (Blackbridge Security 8)

“What?” the Irishman mutters.

“I just wanted to say hi,” the guy says, skirting around the ginger and holding his hand out to me. “Brooks Morgan.”

“Kendall Stewart,” I say, clasping his hand, then releasing it quickly.

This man is dangerous. He’s handsome, clearly charismatic, and has a smile that has the ability to stop a woman in her tracks. I’m not immune, I discover, as he inches closer.

“I heard all about you,” he says, his voice low enough to make me look at Finnegan to question what he’s been telling these guys about me.

Finnegan shakes his head as if answering my unasked question.

“Quite a stunt yesterday.”

“I was out of sorts yesterday,” I say as an excuse.

“He making you a little crazy?” Brooks hikes his thumb over his shoulder to indicate his friend.

“Yes,” I answer honestly, my eyes still on Finnegan.

That’s the absolute truth, but what I don’t say is that the man has been making me crazy a lot longer than just getting us evicted from the condo. My mind has been on him since the first day we met in the gym.

“He just moved me into his place, so I imagine I’ll be totally insane by the end of the week.”

Brooks’s smile widens before he turns around to face his friend. “Moved her in, huh? You move fast there, Irishman.”

“It’s complicated,” he tells Brooks before looking past him in my direction. “Don’t you need to grab the kids from school?”

“Kids?” Brooks asks. “You’re dating a woman with kids?”

“We’re not—”

“Yes, I need to get the kids,” I say before walking right past them. I don’t want to hear the explanation Finnegan gives his friend or listen to him tell him that I’m not worthy of dating. I should hate a man who wouldn’t consider dating a single mom with three kids, but I’m mature enough to understand that not all people are willing to take on that type of responsibility. I can’t fault Finnegan for not being willing. Hell, I shouldn’t even think along those lines. I’m not in his apartment because I want to date him. If I had any other choice, I’d be as far away from that man as possible.

“Have a good day, dear,” Pam says when I inch toward the elevator. “Come back soon.”

I give her a tight nod and smile, stiffening when Finnegan walks up, placing his hand at the small of my back before guiding me onto the elevator.

“Your hand,” I say, once the elevator doors close.

He pulls it away without saying a word, and I studiously watch the lights at the top of the car as we descend into the parking garage.

Our drive back is silent, and I don’t bother saying goodbye before splitting off to go to my car. I’m going to be late as it is, and I’m not looking forward to the judgmental looks from the teachers in the car pickup line at the elementary school.

“Kendall,” Finnegan snaps just as I’m lowering myself into my car.

I look up at him. “I may not be home when you get back. Here.”

I look at his hand to the key there, a million questions I have no right asking on my tongue.

“Thanks,” I tell him as I grab the key.

He steps out of the way so I can close the car door, and I drive away wondering where else he could possibly be but home. I settle on it’s none of my business just as I’m pulling up to the school, but that question still niggles in the back of my mind as I smile at the kids when they climb into the car.

“Who’s ready for an adventure?” I ask when we’re halfway home. I figure I need to get as many of their questions out of the way before we enter Finnegan’s apartment.

“I am!” Knox hollers, raising his hand as if he’s still in class.

“I just want a snack,” Kayleigh mutters.

Kason just glares at me as I watch him in the rearview mirror.

“Well, Uncle Ezra took a new job in Las Vegas,” I begin.

“Is that by the river?” Kayleigh asks, making me wonder just when the school will start teaching any form of geography to my kids.

“It’s a different state,” I say.

“We’re moving to Las Vegas?” Kason asks, and I want to frown at the excitement in his voice. This kid really hates the school he’s in.

“Uncle Ezra moved to Las Vegas,” I explain. “We’re moving across the hall to live with Mr. Jenkins.”

“The big red-headed guy?” Knox asks, with just as much excitement in his voice as Kason had about Vegas.

“That’s him,” I say, my tone light and airy. My kids don’t need to be made aware of my own apprehensions.

“Am I going to have to pack my things before my snack?” Kayleigh asks, her mind always on eating. She’s me made over.

“No, sweetheart. Why don’t we stop somewhere and grab something to eat before going back?”