Chapter Eleven
KINLEY
THE UNUSUAL stillness around me pulls me out of a light sleep, one that was full of tossing and turning all night.
Usually the birds wake me up, or the sounds of people moving around downstairs, then I remember I’m not at home.
Rolling over onto my back, I toss my arm over my head and look at the colorful room.
In the light of the early morning sun, the cream and tangerine colors all around me are even brighter than they were yesterday. I noticed when I was looking around Agent Abbot’s house yesterday that natural wood and bright colors are the theme of the house.
Natural wood is a staple throughout the house, even around the windows and doors, but I think that might have helped me not to be so homesick.
The difference is that everything at my house is leather, patchwork and Native American, but his house seems to have a Latin feel with the bright colors, tapestries and ceramic tiles in the kitchen.
Fixing my eyes on the ceiling, my anger from the day before grips me again.
I’m within my rights to call my brothers and tell them to come get me. Abbot brought me here with a promise to protect me, but I think being leered at and catcalled by the very men he says I should trust is a big fat fail.
He tried to apologize last night, but I think he deserved to be ignored. I felt a little guilty when I ignored Swan, because he seems to be a nice guy, probably too nice for his profession, but I didn’t feel bad about ignoring Abbot.
I have to admit, when I heard him on the conference call calling someone a motherfucker because of the catcall, I got a little hot. In all honesty, that’s the only thing that stopped me from borrowing Swan’s phone to call Mason on the spot. I just wish I could have seen it.
Remembering that I don’t have my phone, I don’t know what time it is. Abbot said he would get me a burner or something. I need to ask about that today. Since I didn’t have dinner last night, I’m starving.
Crossing the hall to use the bathroom, I glance in the mirror, and my hair looks like a bird’s nest, falling in tangles around my arms, so I pile it on top of my head and pull the hair tie off my wrist to hold it up. There. Presentable.
My skimpy, form-fitting, pink sleep tank with tiny blue flowers on it and short, purple sleep shorts are a little skimpy, but it serves him right. If I have to feel uncomfortable because of ‘his men’, then he needs to feel a little uncomfortable, too. If he’s even here.
The house is quiet as I pad barefoot down the hall, but when I round the corner to the kitchen, I stop in my tracks. Abbot is at the kitchen sink in a pair of running shorts and no shirt. His back is to me as he looks out the window over the sink while drinking a glass of water.
Sweat is making his olive-toned skin glisten. I’ve never seen a more perfect muscular specimen, and I’ve seen my fair share when my brothers bring military friends and teams to our house.
One hand is fisted on the edge of the counter while the other holds the glass that has his head tipped back, and I swear his back makes a perfect, rugged, sexy V to his narrow waist. My nipples pucker like they’ve just been tweaked by the most gorgeous man alive.
I’ve never wanted to be a glass of water so bad.
I think he can feel my presence behind him because the muscles across his shoulders go taut, and he lowers his glass to turn his head and then his body in my direction.
Wiping the stare of contentment off my face before he sees, I plaster on my mask of indifference before I clear my throat.
He freezes when his eyes land on me. His gaze quickly moves down my body, pausing for a nanosecond on my nipples poking the thin material covering them, before averting his eyes to set his glass in the sink.
But I don’t stop myself from looking at him. His chest is just as beautiful as his back: six-pack, defined muscular V dipping into his shorts, and spattering of dark hair across his pecs and under his bellybutton.
I wrinkle my nose in faux distaste and meet his eyes. “You’re all sweaty. Were you exercising or something?”
Leaning back against the counter, he crosses his arms, making his biceps bulge. The memory of being wrapped up in those arms at my house the other night sends goosebumps up my arms.
Walking around the little bar between the kitchen and the living room, I pass him to get to the cabinet. I can feel his eyes on me.
“I was. How did you sleep?”
“Fine.” I stand on my tiptoes and reach for a short glass on the second shelf, arching my back as I do.
He clears his throat, and I lower back onto my feet and brush past him to get water from the refrigerator door. “Do you have any coffee?” I lift the glass of water and watch him over the rim as I drink.
His eyes are glued to mine, and there is a hint of a smirk in them. “I don’t drink coffee, but I will get you some. Just let me know what you like.”
Leaning back against the counter, I prop my foot on my inner knee, cross one arm across my body, and set my elbow on it to hold my water up as I tip my head.
Smugly cocking my eyebrow, I say, “It’d probably be easier if I made a list, you know, since you’re going to ‘have me in your house’ twenty-four-seven. ”
The smirk vanishes, and he watches me cautiously, like he’s expecting me to yell or make threats. He clears his throat. “About that. I wanted to apologize to you last night, but I think you were already asleep. I don’t condone that type of behavior, and I won’t tolerate it from my team.”
Shrugging my shoulders flippantly, I wave my hand in the air. “What’s the saying? Boys will be boys? Just reinforcing the stereotype, right?”
His intense stare doesn’t waver as he rubs his palm down his jaw over his beard. “It’s the first time something like that has happened, and I promise it’s the last.”
I snort-huff when I say, “You mean I won’t know when it happens again?”
Without skipping a beat, his firm, deep voice fills the room, and he takes a step toward me as he drops his fists to his sides. “Yes. I can’t control the inappropriate behavior of every man out there, but I can shield you from it.”
My heart flip-flops and my chest warms at the statement, his protectiveness creates a flutter deep in the pit of my stomach.
It’s the same tone he used when I heard him tell someone to ‘say it again, motherfucker’ over the video conference yesterday.
It actually made me stop as I rounded the corner in the hallway to listen to the rest of the exchange.
Pretending to ignore the chivalrous statement, I let my eyes move over his chest and stomach, like I’m judging him. “What kind of FBI guy doesn’t drink coffee? I thought you guys lived on coffee?”
The lines on his forehead relax at the shift of subject, and he crosses his arms again. “The kind that prefers to stay healthy.”
“Well, then you’re going to hate having me in your house. I like a lot of creamer, the sugary kind.”
He cocks his eyebrow with a smirk. “I’ll give you my login info to order whatever groceries you want.”
“Which brings me to the phone you promised. Mason won’t be happy if I don’t call him every day like he asked.”
He huffs a laugh. “You mean like he ordered?”
The tone rubs me the wrong way, and I set my glass on the counter before taking a few steps toward him, putting just a couple of feet between us, my head tipped back. His eyes watch my every move down his narrow nose.
“My brothers may be bossy, but everything they do is for the good of our family and home. We don’t always agree, and I’m the first to let them know when they’ve overstepped, but I have that right because they’re my brothers.
Mine.” I point my finger at my chest. “If you want our time together to be pleasant, you’ll remember that. ”
His dark eyes volley between mine for a moment. I’m close enough that I can smell the smoky spice of his cologne mixed with the smell of sweaty man, a heady combination of cloves, musk, and sweat. I take a small inhale but try to disguise it as a breath of anger.
He’s so damn good-looking.
And I want to slide my finger along the curve of the muscles on his chest.
“I’ll get you a phone today. Is there anything else? I need to get ready for work.”
“Who will my jailer be today?” I ask and look the other way, like I’m bored. “Hopefully not one of the Neanderthals from yesterday.”
“Are you comfortable with Swan?” He tips his head to the side, the look of regret back in his eyes.
Another shoulder shrug. “I suppose. He seems kind of soft for an FBI guy.”
His lips tip up on one side. “Don’t let it fool you. He may be friendly and lighthearted, but I’ve seen him take down and overpower a runner faster than most guys.”
Hmm, so he’s a chameleon. Kind of like Marley’s husband, Jax. Noted.
“Will you be gone all day like yesterday?” I don’t know if I can go through another day of just walking around looking at the inside of his house. If I were interested in exercise, I could put the treadmill and climbing machine to use in his little exercise room, but I hate sweating.
The humor is back in his eyes. “You think you might miss me, baby?”
Every time he calls me baby, obviously to irritate me, it has the opposite effect and I want to climb him like a tree, but I can’t let him know that.
Pulling my face into a frown, I say, “Stop calling me baby. I’m not your damn baby.
You try walking around here with no electronics or entertainment.
I’m bored, and having some kind of connection to the world will be nice. ”
He looks happy that he got a rise out of me, the sparkle in his brown eyes makes him even more handsome. “I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”
Breathing a bored sigh, I look away. “I guess not.”
When Swan shows up while Abbot is in the shower, he has a tray of four coffees in his hand. There is an iced coffee, two hot coffees, and one that looks like dessert with whipped cream on top and a big pink straw. Swan takes one of the hot coffees out and hands the carrier to me.
“Are these all for me?” My eyes are wide as I look at the tray and then up at Swan.
“Yep, Abbot said all he knew is that you like your coffee sugary and to get more than one.” He takes a sip of the coffee in his hand. “My wife told me which ones she likes, so I ordered those.”
As I stare at the carrier, I try to remember when I saw or heard him on the phone with Swan. He must have texted him after he left the room. I suppress the smile that wants to break out on my face and look back up at Swan. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Abbot. He was kind of insistent, even when I told him I was running late because my daughter was being cranky.” He winks at me and takes another sip of his coffee before he turns to set his bag on the dining table.
Setting the drink carrier on the counter, I play the eenie-meenie-miny-mo game to choose which one I’m drinking first.
Because I’m drinking all of them.