Bulldozer (Hard to Love 3)

“You can trust me with him.”

It takes me a moment to wrap my brain around what he means, his voice is steady and reassuring, underpinned with sincerity. I look up to see if his face confirms what I heard and find no evidence to think otherwise. Hidden amongst the dark blond scruff on his face, his mouth is relaxed, his gaze open.

“I’ll leave Roxy home if that’s alright with you. We’ll only be gone a few hours.”

“Suit yourself, lady.”

With that, he turns tail and leaves. I’m not sure what to make of this small but noticeable change in him. We’re communicating, I guess…somewhat…sort of. One giant leap for civility. One small step in the right direction.

“I’m gonna be Uncle Cal this time,” Sam says laughing.

I walk into the living room to find Hendricks and Sam playing Madden. They both glance up at me for a brief moment. Then, without a word, go back to whatever it is they’re doing. I don’t even warrant a hello. Nice.

We left the office early so Sam and I could spend quality time at the beach. Turns out, it was so I could spend time at the beach. Sam was out there for all of one hour before returning inside with Roxy. To be dumped for Hendricks? I’m miffed.

“Fine,” Hendricks replies. “But if I kick your butt, you have to call him and tell him he’s a chump.”

Sam laughs and laughs. “No. I can’t.”

“Then I guess you better beat me.”

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” I cut in. Hendricks looks over his shoulder at me, expression unreadable. My stomach churns nervously.

“Thanks, Mom,” my son happily chirps.

They both return their attention to the television. With that, I exit. Nothing worse than feeling like a third wheel.

A few days later I’m stepping out of the shower, wrapping a bath towel around my body, when the doorbell rings. It’s a universal truth that when a doorbell rings this early in the morning it does not bode well for the rest of the day.

Slipping out of my bedroom, I head for the front door where I’m met by Hendricks’ bare back. He’s already beat me there, hand poised on the knob to open the door.

We’ve been cordial for the last few days, the cease-fire still intact. Hearing me walk up, he throws a glance over his shoulder and does a double take, his gaze raking down my towel to my legs.

“What?” I say, looking down to make sure a nipple isn’t poking out. He motions to the towel with a jerk of his chin. “You can’t be for real? Can you? I’ve seen more of you than your proctologist, but I wear a towel that hits above the knee and that gets a raised eyebrow?”

His lips quiver, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Look that closely, did you,” he murmurs, unleashing a salacious smile.

Uhh…

The doorbell rings again. Roxy comes scrambling down the stairs, a runaway bowling ball ready to knock down anyone in her path. And she would’ve succeeded if it weren’t for her new love interest, also known as Hendricks, who catches her by the collar before I’m flat on my back. “Bad dog,” I mutter.

Hendricks opens the door and Roxy is immediately forgotten because I’m much too busy taking stock of the man standing in the doorway.

He’s wearing the required music dude uniform: distressed jeans that probably cost hundreds of dollars, motorcycle boots, about a thousand leather bracelets on both wrists, and a belt with a heavy silver skull buckle. Ronan takes off his designer shades and frowns, his perceptive gray eyes bouncing between a sleepy-looking Hendricks and me…in nothing but a bath towel.

Shit.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, sounding as guilty as I look. The irony would be funny if I wasn’t scared out of my wits. The last thing I need is to hand Ronan a reason to take me to court and I think I just gift wrapped this one.

“Can I come in?”

Snapping out of my stupor, I step aside and nudge Hendricks to do the same. Which he only does once I shoot him a hot glare that should’ve charred his face to ash.

“Come in.” I wave. “Have a seat in the living room,” I instruct while simultaneously herding him there.

In her usual over exuberance Roxy whines and fights Hendricks’ firm grip to greet our guest. Judging by his expression, it doesn’t look like Ronan is a fan of dogs and for once I’m glad the big guy is around to help.

Ronan and Hendricks exchange equally suspicious scrutiny. That’s all I need now. For these two to get into a pissing contest.

Grabbing Hendricks’ bicep with both hands, I pull him aside and he lets me. “Can we have some privacy?” He simply stares back at my tight-lipped smile. “And take Roxy with you––pretty please?”