Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Danny

I wasn’t surprised by the soft knock at the door. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’d been expecting it, but I wasn’t surprised. I also wasn’t anywhere close to sleep. I’d dutifully put on flannel pants and a T-shirt, but the large window seemed extra big and scary in the dark, the bed too wide and empty, and the house itself too bold and creaky. I’d kept a low light on and had been torturing myself with my camera, looking over pics from the cabin. It was almost like my sheer force of longing had manifested Cash’s knock.

“You asleep?” he whispered in the doorway. “It’s just me.”

“You can come in.” I set the camera on the bedside table. I should have said no, pretended to sleep, faked anger, anything to guard my heart against more hurt, but I couldn’t.

“Good.” He approached the bed with soft strides. “Can I stretch out with you awhile?”

“Are you sleeping up here?” Stupid hope stole its way into my voice.

He lay down next to me, big body making the mattress dip and bed instantly seem cozier. He smelled like my favorite soap from his earlier washing up and Cash, a scent that should still be new and exotic, but instead was familiar. His warm weight behind me made me sigh with recognition like I’d found something I hadn’t known I was missing. But then he went and spoke, and I tensed all over again.

“Not all night.” He kissed the back of my neck, but my shoulders stiffened further.

“Okay.” I rolled away, not wanting him to see my hurt.

“Hey.” He put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me, and spooned me from behind. “I wish I could. I sleep far better with you than I have in years.”

“Then stay.” I made a frustrated noise because I knew he wouldn’t.

“I am. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all night.”

“Not just in the house,” I whispered, heart hammering out a drum solo. God, that was hard to admit. So much easier to offer him a job, a concrete reason to stay. “Stay with me.”

“I am.” He petted my hair. “That’s what you’re not hearing. I’m not sleeping up here all night tonight because I don’t want Harley to have to be a secret keeper. I’d rather talk to Duncan first. I owe him that much.”

“You’re going to talk to Duncan?” The flutter of hope was back, low in my gut.

“Yep. I don’t want to keep hanging around under false pretenses. He deserves to hear it from me, not some rumor.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed that Duncan needed to know. Honor and loyalty were core parts of Cash’s DNA though, so I understood why he didn’t want to keep a secret, but I disagreed that he’d broken some unwritten bro-code by messing around with me. I wasn’t the kid they all seemed to think I was. However, I was more distracted by Cash apparently planning to keep whatever we had going.

“If you want to stick around, why not take the job?”

“You’re not a job, Danny.” He dropped a kiss on the back of my neck. “I don’t want to be your bodyguard.”

“But—” Now I was back to being hurt. My idea was a good one, and I didn’t like him dismissing it so quickly.

“I don’t want to be your employee. I want to be your boyfriend. I’m not sure entirely how that works or how to be good at it, but I figure you can tell me. More lessons.” He chuckled as he held me closer.

“I might not know either,” I admitted, skin warm from his words as much as his nearness. They were pretty words. I wasn’t sure I believed him and wasn’t sure that boyfriend lessons were enough of an incentive to stay. Wasn’t sure I was enough of a reason when it came right down to it, and I huffed out a little breath.

“Then we can figure it out together.” He didn’t make it a question, instead sounding certain we would.

I tried to temper my rising hope, calm my suddenly racing pulse. “You don’t have to come out to do that though. Tell Duncan if you feel you need to, but not for me. You could be a secret boyfriend.”

“You deserve more than a secret lover,” he said firmly, grip tightening on my side.

“Not sure I deserve you.” My voice was back to the barest of whispers, and I wished I’d flipped out the light before he crawled in bed with me. I felt too exposed, every long-buried wish on display, close enough to touch, but I couldn’t be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream.

“Does it help if I say I feel the same way about you?” he whispered back, tone equally uncertain, and weirdly, it did help.

“Why?” I needed to hear it.