“Fuck,” I hissed, dropping into my car, slamming my head back on the rest. That was just wishful thinkin’ on my part. ‘Cause no matter how much I wanted to say that all I saw in Hope was a dogged kind of determination, there was no denying I liked looking at her. And I liked all that sass too. I figured, given a chance, there would be a way for that spark of anger to get fanned into a different sort of flame. It couldn’t happen, of course. But that didn’t stop my mind from wanderin’. And other parts of me from getting ideas too. It was fine, though. ‘Cause we were going to be keeping a professional sort of distance. Or, at least, that was the plan… Naomi I didn’t know whether to admire him, or want to wring his neck. Because the man’s operation was fucking perfect. And I didn’t say that easily. I was able to see even the flaws in the organizations my family ran or were in. But after a week on his case, not only was I hitting brick wall after brick wall, but so were the ot

What? No. I mean… no. You seriously can’t be talking about A,” I insisted. “Oh, please. Even you have eyes and ears. He’s hot. And that kinda slow cadence of how he speaks, mixed with that little raspy, rumbly voice? God,” she said, picking up her piece of pizza, so she could fan herself with her grease-stained paper plate. “That’s a little much,” I said, though I’d had similar thoughts about his voice recently, so I couldn’t object too much. “But, no. The favor is actually that you just… don’t tell our friends and family about this. I mean about living with him and acting as his maid,” I clarified. “I don’t care if they know about the case. What?” I asked when she stared at me for an uncomfortably long moment. “You know, for someone who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck, you really do care a lot what everyone else thinks,” she said. Okay. Well. Ouch. Violet wasn’t supposed to be the tough-love cousin. She’d always been a bit like me. A little hardass. Definitely kind of detached bec

Good to know,” I said, nodding as I watched him move the backsplash back into place. “Got any questions so far?” he asked. “The dogs,” I said. “What about ‘em?” he asked, glancing out the windows surrounding the dining space, seeing two of them. One was on full-on guard dog duty, watching the trees. The other was on its back, wiggling its body in the grass. “Are they going to be okay with me being here? Getting mauled isn’t exactly on my to-do list this year.” “You’ll meet ‘em all. They don’t attack unless you climb the fence or I command ‘em to. You’re safe.” I was going to need to do all that meeting to be sure of that for myself. “Wanna check out the upstairs?” he said, motioning to the far side of the kitchen where I hadn’t seen the back staircase when I’d first glanced around, half-hidden behind a wall. “Yeah,” I said. “Is there anything else on this floor?” I asked. “Well, we passed the bathroom. Under the stairs,” he said. “And there is a basement. The door is hidden i

Nah, she wasn’t a perfume kind of woman. It had to be something practical. Wouldn’t surprise me if that hippy-ass cousin of hers created this exact blend just for Hope and gifted her soaps and lotions and shit to her for holidays. And because Hope was practical that way, she used it. “Eggs,” she said, and it didn’t exactly escape me that her gaze wasn’t on mine. It was focused almost just past my ear, so it could seem like she was looking at me, without actually having to do it. “Yeah? You making me some?” I asked. “That’s the job, isn’t it?” she asked. It was right that second that I heard the back door opening. I might tell her after that it was a split-second decision. But, in fact, I’d clearly been thinking about that shit for a while. My hand shot out, grabbing her by the back of the neck, and hauling her forward even as my lips crashed down on hers. Her entire body stiffened at the contact, her lips hard and unmoving against mine. But the shift was almost fucking insta

But no. He wanted to be near me. And my heart did a little squeeze at the idea. “Do you want to come in?” I asked, moving out of the doorway, and he padded inside like he owned the joint. “You were being pretty damn dramatic, dude,” I told him as I made my way back to the bed, climbing back in and pulling up the blankets. “What now?” I grumbled as I got back up. “Do you want water or something?” I asked, going into the bathroom and emptying the decorative glass bowl of its contents—a fancy candle and one of those oil and reed diffuser things—then washing it out, and filling it with some cold water for him. “We good?” I asked, setting it down for him, then once again trying to go to bed. I had one knee on the bed when there was another dramatic sigh. “Dude, what the hell?” I grumbled just as there was a knock on my door. Before I could even tell him to fuck off, that I was off the clock, though, the door was swinging open, and there he was. In a pair of low-slung black pajama p