Protecting Her Secret Son. Regan BlackЧитать онлайн книгу.
to be here when I get back?” He wouldn’t put it past her to call a cab or ride share and leave him behind. It didn’t matter that he knew she’d go straight to her house. The idea of her out in the city alone while someone was bent on causing her trouble slid like ice between his shoulder blades.
She made an X over her heart. “Promise.”
Trusting her, hoping he wouldn’t get played for a fool, he took the stairs two at a time to the bedroom he was using upstairs. Living out of a duffel made it easier to pack. He grabbed up his clothes, double-checked that he had a dress shirt and clean jeans for tonight and jogged back downstairs.
Shannon was replaying the video. He could tell by the blend of longing and sorrow on her face. “Something new?” he asked.
She jerked her head up and pocketed her phone, looking guilty. “No.”
It broke his heart watching her suffer. More than anything he wanted to hold her and promise they’d rescue her son. He just couldn’t do it. If things went south, she’d never trust him and he’d never forgive himself.
“I remember Ed telling me you go out with the guys occasionally after work.”
“That’s not dating,” she insisted. “Aiden sleeps over at Rachel’s place once in a while.”
“Close enough for me,” he said.
“That hardly explains how we went from boss and employee to you moving in within a day.”
“I don’t plan to explain anything to the bastard who took your son.” Daniel stopped short of venting his full opinion about her ex—though his involvement didn’t make any sense—or the team that snatched Aiden from the sitter’s house. “We need a plausible story for the guys tonight.”
“Not if we skip it,” she said, her chin cocked stubbornly.
She wasn’t inviting a kiss, though his brain went there automatically. With deliberate motions, he ushered her out of the house and back to the truck. This wasn’t going to be simple for him, watching over a woman he’d hoped to date. It never would have been easy, considering she worked for his company, but until this morning he’d felt like he had a pretty good shot.
Not now.
“No one needs to know we’re staying in the same place,” he said, when they reached her driveway.
With a sniffle, she put her phone away, having watched the video again on the drive over.
From his perspective, she was torturing herself watching that video nonstop. What did he know? He wasn’t a parent. No amount of compassion or sympathy gave him a full understanding of what she was going through. Smothering his attraction to her was an annoyance compared to her struggle. Nothing he did or said would ease the wounded look hollowing out her brown eyes.
They didn’t talk much as he unloaded the truck and carried their bags inside. He put her suitcase and tote just inside her bedroom and stashed his bags in the closet downstairs. Maybe if he stayed out of her way, kept himself as out of sight as possible, she’d relax.
“I’m going to take a nap,” she said. “Just do...whatever you want.”
He started to reply and she held up a hand, cut him off. “I know we have to go to the concert. I’ll set an alarm and be ready on time.”
Checking on her once, he found her curled up on the bed, Aiden’s blue rabbit tucked under her chin, phone charging on the nightstand. Her eyes closed and her breath deep and even, he figured sleep was her best defense against the senseless situation.
Restless, he meandered through the house downstairs. He found three paint chips taped to the wall in the kitchen and eyed them critically. He was debating between two good choices when his cell phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the display. “Daniel Jennings.”
“You can’t just take whatever you want and write it off, Danny.” Matthew Daniel Jennings was calling to take a strip out of Daniel’s hide.
“Hi, Dad.” Daniel stifled the sigh just in time, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped out on the small back porch. Conversations between them had a tendency to get loud and he didn’t want to wake Shannon. “I checked the inventory,” he began.
“Well, you didn’t check the new work orders for next week,” his dad snapped. “I can’t spare the subfloor. You’ll have to order it.”
Waiting on delivery meant his crew would be standing around Monday morning with nothing to do. A costly decision on a charity project he needed to finish within the next two weeks. Usually he and his father were both a little bit right when they butted heads on things like this. He forced cheer into his voice, hiding his weariness with the constant pushback. “How about my crew meets yours and helps with your subfloor. Then they can take any leftovers, swing by the—”
“No. Too many hands only jam things up.”
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