His hand came toward me and I flinched. Dammit.
The hand paused ever-so-briefly and even with my eyes askance, I could feel his gaze drilling into me, searching my face. He can see it. Of course he could see it. No amount of makeup was going to hide that sort of thing from Sam. Whatever else his virtues and vices, the man was good at his job. And his job was violence. Recognizing it, and knowing how to prevent it. Still, it grated on me to show any sign of weakness. I’d rather be an overly proud bitch than a weak and wounded little thing any day of the week.
Then the pause was over and the hand continued forward. “Just cleaning you up,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean.
“Yeah, I…” Shit. “Thanks.”
Ever so carefully, he lifted a thick strand of my dark hair and wiped it clean. His movements were cautious and slower than usual. I ignored the way his brows had drawn in ever so slightly.
“Maybe I should start shaving my head like you do,” I joked, disliking the way-too-loaded silence between us. “If he’s going to make a habit of throwing food at me.”
A manly grunt.
“Bet it cuts right down on the styling time and I’d save a bundle on shampoo.”
“Sam-Sam-Sam-Sam-Sam.” Gib threw himself at the big man’s back, little arms latching around his thick neck. Of course the kid loved him. It was just me he hated, his own flesh and blood. Lovely.
“Hey, buddy. You behaving yourself?”
Gib nodded his head up and down with much enthusiasm, the little fibber.
“Then why did poor Martha have yogurt in her hair?”
The kid just shrugged. “Want Mom.”
“Your mom’s at college. She’ll be back later.”
“Daddy?”
“He’s busy working right now,” said Sam in soothing tones. “You need to hang out with your Aunty Martha for a while. Your folks will be back soon, okay?”
“No!”
“Gibby—”
“No-no-no.”
“He’s big on repetition,” I said, wincing at all of the noise. For little lungs, the boy sure was loud.
“You can have fun with Aunty Martha.” Sam’s smile was so hopeful. “Hanging out with Aunty Martha’s great, isn’t it, buddy?”
“No-no-no.”
“Who could have guessed he’d say that?” I whispered. “Though to be fair, I’m kind of with him on that one.”
One of Sam’s brows arched, his gaze turning speculative. “You could be fun…in certain situations.”
I shut my mouth tight before it even had a chance to hang open.
“If you wanted to be.”
“Oh, really?” I cocked my head. “If I wanted to be in the situation or if I wanted to be fun?”
“Either. Both.”
“Huh.”
Gib patted Sam’s thick shoulders all affectionate like. Damn. The man’s muscles had muscles. How much time did he even spend in the gym? Not that he was preening or arrogant. I’d never met anyone less into worrying about what he looked like. It was all work-work-work for the man.
“What are the dogs up to today?” he asked Gib.
Immediately, the child raised his chin and “aroo-ed” at the top of his voice. As howls went, it was pretty spectacular. This task completed, he climbed off the big man and ran back to his former position standing in front of the TV.
Sam smiled. “Kids get pretty obsessed with shows. This one’s been his favorite for a while.”
“Talking dogs are pretty cool, I guess.”
For a moment, he just stared at me.
“Have I still got yogurt in my hair?”
“No, I got it all out.”
I nodded, turning my attention to my hands. It was easier than looking at him or dealing with all of the confusion his presence inspired. Time for a new manicure. One of my thumbnails was even chipped. To be fair, it kind of matched the whole food-fights-with-an-infant theme I had going on. Stylists and influencers would be so jealous.
“You never used to be nervous around me,” he said quietly.
“Nervous around you? Seriously?” I scoffed. “Maybe if you weren’t crowding me...”
The man didn’t move an inch. Jerk. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night. What bought you back to the West Coast?”
“I wanted to see my family.”
“That all?”
“Is that honestly so bizarre?”
“Combined with volunteering to look after Gib, it is a bit, yes.”
I bit back the word asshole. Just. “What is this, an interrogation? Are you worried that I’m a security threat or something?”
“Of course not. My job is to make sure that everyone’s safe,” he said. “That they’re okay. And that includes you. You’re part of the family too.”
“Well, thanks but no thanks for your professional concern. I’m fine.”
He just looked at me.
“Don’t you ever switch off from your job?” I asked.
“I’ll switch off when the world’s a safe place and nobody needs me around anymore. But we both know the world’s not a safe place.”
“That’s very Superman of you, Sam. Anyway, I’m not sure I’ll be around that long.”
“Guess we’ll see.” He rose to his feet and without another word wandered off toward the hallway. Thankfully, Gib was too engrossed in his show to be paying attention to the somewhat awkward conversation. Not that I was intimidated by a small child or what he thought of me. Or of an executive protection officer’s opinion, for that matter.
I was fine. Everything was fine. With a deep calming breath, I turned my hand, hiding the chip in my polish. I’d fix it later.
I stared mindlessly at the contents of my closet. The next job on my list of not particularly necessary things to do alone in my room. First had come the pedicure, facial, long soak in the tub while catching up on the entertainment industry news on my smart phone. Followed by eyebrow maintenance, some replying to emails, and my moisturizing routine. Now for this…how much exactly to unpack was the question. Outfits suitable for the New York party scene were less appropriate for wrangling small children and my previous work gear pretty much fell under the same category. None of it would stand up to the kind of rough usage a toddler could provide. Food fights. Shuffling around my knees picking up toys and such. Chasing after short, evil children on the run from their vegetables and bath time.
Fair to say I no longer quite recognized myself or my life. But I’d needed a job. More importantly, I’d needed to come home.
“Hey,” said Lizzy, wandering in without knocking. Guess it sort of was her house. “What are you doing?”
“Just organizing myself.” Caught out minus the heavy makeup, I kept my face angled down. Hopefully, with the low lighting, Lizzy wouldn’t see anything.
“You didn’t come down for dinner.”
“Not hungry.”
“You know where the kitchen is if you change your mind,” she said. “We were going to watch some TV. Did you want to come join us?”
“Sort of busy right now,” I hedged. Because while I might have reluctantly realized I needed to be around my family, actually giving in to the need was another thing entirely. “But thanks for asking.”
“Okay. So long as you know you don’t have to hide out in your room.”
“I’m not hiding.” I took in the baby monitor attached to my sister-in-law’s waist and sighed. “Should I be wearing that?”
She snorted. “We don’t expect you to be on duty twenty-four-seven, Martha. Sheesh.”
I just shrugged.
“Is that how things normally go in your line of work?” Lizzy sat on the end of the bed, making herself comfortable.
“Mostly I do a mix of PR and executive assistant type functions. Usually for people with delicate egos, lots of money, and busy planners. Entertainment industry, mostly,” I said. “Being summoned at four in the morning isn’t unheard of.”
“My baby boy can be high-maintenance all right. But any four in the morning nonsense can be handled by me or his father.” She grinned. “Is the room okay?”
“Yes, it’s lovely. Bigger than my whole apartment back in New York.”
“Good. Glad you like it. We want you to be comfortable here.”
I leaned back against the antique closet, arms crossed over my chest.
“Maybe you could even be comfortable enough to tell me about that bruise on your face sometime.”