“What are you doing?” Gavin asks, wide-eyed.
“It’s just Marcus.” When his expression doesn’t change, I continue. “The bodyguard?”
“Oh. I forgot.” Gavin’s posture goes from frightened to defensive in the blink of an eye. It’s as if I watched an invisible wall slam down between us.
Confused, I turn back to the door and open it for our guest.
“Hale,” a deep, rumbling voice chastises. “I thought I was going to grow old and die out here waiting for you.”
“Marcus!” I grin, holding out a hand. After we shake, I step aside. “This is the client, Gavin Walker.”
“Mr. Walker,” Marcus says, nodding at Gavin. “Marcus Jacoby, your fill-in protection.” They shake hands while I close the door.
“Why don’t you two get acquainted while I clean up and get dressed?”
Gavin stares at me, dozens of unanswered questions in those wounded blue eyes. “I’ll make coffee,” he offers.
“Show me the way,” Marcus responds.
I swear, as Gavin walks away, he looks… hurt.
I’m going crazy. Kissing Gavin, thinking about him all the time… it’s causing me to slip up and make mistakes. That’s why I need a few days away—to refocus on the reason I’m here—catching a criminal, not to dip my dick in my employer’s inkwell.
As I strip my clothes and hop in the shower, my dick disagrees, jutting out from my groin, tall and proud.
Motherfucker!
66
Gavin
That fucking coward!
My grip on a mug of black coffee tightens when Mitch comes into the kitchen to announce that he’s leaving.
“I’ll be in touch, Marcus.” Mitch shakes hands again with my new babysitter, slapping him on the back.
I roll my eyes. Stupid het greetings. God forbid they hug. It might make them gay.
“No worries, Hale. I got your boy covered.”
My gaze flicks over to Mitch just in time to see his expression tighten and his skin to flush red when Marcus refers to me as ‘his boy’. Mitch gives him a weak smile. I notice he has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and frown. Obviously, he has no plans to talk to me alone before tucking tail and running.
“Right. Anyway, you’ve got my number. I’ll be in the area, following leads and getting my house cleaned up. So, if you need anything…”
Mitch glances at me and I see it. Under the false bravado, under the stupid T-shirt that has psychology spelled backwards across the front, under the brawn and the brains and the (yes, I keep checking) very hot body, lies a confused, insecure man. He’s nervous, fidgeting with his keys, shifting from one foot to the other and chewing on that damn lip.
Christ, he can’t even look me in the eye he’s so unsettled.
Unfortunately, I don’t have it in me to care how he feels at this moment. He’s avoiding what happened between us by avoiding me, and that pisses me off to no end.
“We’ll be fine. We don’t need you,” I snap. Then, like the diva I’m not, I slam down my mug and leave the room.
By the time the front door closes and I hear Mitch’s car pull out of the drive, I’m in the backyard by the glistening swimming pool, fuming. Annoyed, I pull up Ellie’s contact on my phone and hit dial. She answers immediately.
“Gavin! What happened last night? I was going to ring you up if I didn’t hear from you.”
I drop into the nearest chair and sigh. Rubbing my eyes with my free hand, I tell Ellie about my evening. Everything from Mitch declaring us boyfriends, to the incident in the bathroom, to the destruction at his townhouse—it all comes pouring out of me, unfiltered.