Nineteen
Hale
Normally, coming home after being gone so long was a relief.
Not this time, I thought sourly.
I had to figure out where the hell I was going to put this woman. I didn’t want her near me. There were security cameras in the house, and it wasn’t like she could escape and make a run for it.
We had barely stepped through the back entryway when I heard the familiar sound heading my way.
I never had guests to my home. Only the family had ever stepped foot inside my doors.
A smirk curled my lips as I thought of Snow’s reaction to my Doberman.
While his appearance could be intimidating, he wouldn’t attack, without my command at least.
I’d sent Ellen, my housekeeper and cook, a text to let her know I’d be arriving so she’d have dinner ready.
It had been a long fucking evening, and I never got my tacos.
I had forgotten to mention I was bringing someone with me.
I’d need her to prepare a guest room when I figured out which one before she left for the night.
I was sure she was ready to sleep in her own bed after being here for two weeks while I was gone.
Slash came barreling around the corner and slid to a halt as he caught sight of Bay.
“Oh! You have a dog!” she said behind me, not sounding skittish or frightened in the least. Instead of cowering, she stepped around me, all fucking smiles. “Aren’t you beautiful?! What’s your name?” she asked in a soft tone, bending to meet him at eye level.
Slash studied her, then began to walk slowly toward her.
Not looking at me once for direction. He seemed fascinated.
I still wasn’t sure of his intentions yet, so I watched closely, not needing my dog to decide to take a bite of her.
I might not like her, but calling Doc here for stitches would be annoying.
Instead of snarling or baring his teeth, he went up to her, his tail wagging, and lowered his head, allowing her to pet him.
What the fuck, Slash?
I’d been gone for two weeks. Traitor had better remember who fed him. Well, most of the time. Ellen helped with that.
“Aren’t you a handsome boy?” she cooed at him, only making his tail go at it harder.
Jesus.
“Mr. Carver, I have the tacos,” Ellen said as she came around the same corner Slash had when she spotted Bay and went from a moment of surprise to delight. “Oh! You brought company! I’ll need to go set another place. I only se—”
“That won’t be necessary, Ellen. If you’ll just…” I paused, thinking again about which room to send Bay to, then decided the one upstairs beside the attic would be best. “Get the fourth-floor bedroom ready and take Miss Fox with you. Once she’s got what she needs, you can take her meal up there.”
I might have to keep her in my house, but I wasn’t fucking letting her eat at my table.
Ellen frowned. “Fourth floor?” she asked, looking confused.
That room hadn’t been used since…well, since my wife had been alive.
She’d used it as her crafts room. After she passed, I didn’t want to think about all I’d done wrong in our marriage or the disaster it had been.
Doing so just brought guilt. So, I had hired a designer to come in and turn it into a guest bedroom that no one ever used.
There were plenty of other bedrooms in this house.
“Yes,” I replied tightly, not liking the fact that she was questioning me.
Sure, it wasn’t a big room. Not like the other guest bedrooms with full bathrooms and luxury amenities. Bay was a prisoner of sorts. She should be treated like one. Until she told the truth, we would be stuck like this. That, or until we had what we needed on her boyfriend.
“Okay,” Ellen said, nodding, then giving Bay an apologetic smile. “If you will come with me, dear.”
Bay gave Slash one more rub that he was thoroughly enjoying before standing back up. “All right,” she agreed, then stifled a yawn.
I wondered how long she’d been awake. I had picked her up from a long-haul flight. It was likely she had been up for over twenty-four hours by now. Again, not my problem.
Slash began to follow Bay as she went with Ellen. What the fuck?!
“Slash,” I called in a stern tone I knew he would understand. “Come here,” I told him when he turned to look back at me.
He glanced back up at Bay, then at me before sulking back where he belonged.
He was a Doberman, for Christ’s sake. Who just walked up to a damn Doberman they’d never met and proceeded to pet him? Furthermore, where was my threatening dog? No snarling, no need to protect the house and those in it from a stranger?
“Pussy,” I muttered to him before heading toward the kitchen.
I wanted to eat, shower, and get her scent out of my goddamn nose.
My Escalade was never going to be the same.
I’d be damned if I let her ride in my truck.
She wasn’t haunting me in there too. Why did she have to smell so good?
She should stink like normal people who had just worked a long-haul flight from Australia.