Before I can take another step, a large hand grasps my upper arm bringing my evasion to a sudden halt. I’m steered so that my back is pressed against the wall of the dimly lit hallway. Foster releases my arm, but he’s standing close enough to impede my escape. Standing toe to toe, I feel the electricity—the simmering attraction—between us which is always present. The same attraction that’s becoming more and more difficult for me to ignore.
His eyes hold mine. “Nice try, Davis. Now why don’t you tell me the truth about why you were holed up in there?” His voice has a dark, dangerous feel to it, but when he leans in closer to whisper, it changes to something far more intimate. “Especially since I watched you pack your bag and know you’re not wearing anything remotely close to loose, raggedy, or granny-like.”
I stare at him, trying my best to hold out, and just when I feel myself begin to weaken, about to blurt out the truth, I’m saved.
“Ooooeeeee! Lookie here y’all.” My eyes fall closed on a half sigh of relief, half laugh at Kane’s interruption. “I love me some clandestine meetings in dim hallways. Especially with a gorgeous woman.” Looking over to see my coworker’s cheeky grin, I glance back at Foster and am taken aback by the dark scowl on his face.
“Now, the scowl just won’t do, Fos.” Kane tsk’s, shaking his head in faux sadness.
“Windham,” Foster warns.
Kane grins wider. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too, Fos.” Turning to leave he tosses over his shoulder, “Now go ahead and lay some sugar on her already.”
A smile is threatening to break free, and I’m doing all I can to press my lips together to try and restrain it.
“So.” I pause. “You planning on setting me free, Kavanaugh?”
He finally turns to me and the expression on his face is one I can’t begin to decipher. There’s a beat of silence before he answers.
“Maybe.” But then he takes a step back from me—just enough for me to slip past him—his gaze burning with such intensity causing me to feel a mix of heat and unease.
And each step I take, returning to the others in the living room, I feel the weight of his gaze.
Chapter Thirty-One
Foster
Something’s bothering Noelle and it’s likely the same asshole who’s been terrorizing her. The way she looked when she opened the bathroom door, all pale and visibly shaken, struck me deep. Even though we have the kind of relationship where we tend to give each other shit every chance we get, that doesn’t mean I don’t care.
You just care a little too much, an inner voice taunts me. The fucker.
I noticed the quick silencing of her cell phone, the quick flash of worry across her face before she’d wipe it clean, pretending as though everything is fine. I caught Kane’s gaze earlier, both of us silently acknowledging that something was up. It screamed trouble. I just wish she’d be more open about what was happening and not feel like she was burdening me. Because I want to help.
And I’ll be honest, there’s always going to be a part of me getting a hard-on when there’s a sign of trouble, making me ready and willing to take it on. I might not be an active duty SEAL any longer, but you can’t take the ingrained need to protect and fight on behalf of others out of me. Which makes it hard to restrain my urge to demand that Noelle tell me what the hell’s going on.
It’s hard to restrain other urges around her, too, but that’s not the point.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, letting out a sigh of frustration, I follow the path she took leading to the living room where the others are sitting around chatting. As soon as I enter, what do I see? Fucking Kane Windham sitting right next to Noelle on one of the loveseats, his arm draped atop the back behind her. His eyes meet mine the instant I set foot in the room. Like he wants me to see this, like he’s taunting me.
Who the hell am I kidding? He’s blatantly taunting me. The sparkle in his eyes kills my fucking soul. He knows exactly what he’s doing. No matter how much I’ve tried to hide my attraction to her, there are just some things that can’t be hidden from guys who are specifically trained to pick up on little nuances.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it, however.
Propping myself against the door frame as casually as possible, considering I’m barely resisting stomping over to that damn love seat and ripping Kane’s large form away from Noelle, I hear the sound of a throat clearing beside me.
As if it couldn’t get worse. Lawson Briggs—the man engaged to Lee, my other employee. This damn guy—tall, blond with a goatee, whose physique leans toward thin, yet extremely fit due to his CrossFit obsession—loves pushing my buttons like no other. If I were to go by the wide grin on his face, he’s ready to engage.
With a glare, I tell him, “Not now, Briggs. Not. Now,” before turning back to ensure Kane’s arm stays on the back of the love seat and doesn’t veer off to lie on Noelle’s shoulders.