to live there, it was crazy that it ended up being the first place I’d ever felt safe. I’d been able to sleep without worrying Shamus would drag me from the bed—pissed and drunk and violent. Or that one of his drinking buddies would sneak in. Or that the faulty wires would start a fire, someone would break in, or any of the other stressors that’d kept me awake at night.
But as much as I’d enjoyed having my own space, sharing Maximo’s was much better. I slept soundly because I knew I was even safer in his arms.
After putting on a bra, I grabbed the rest of my intimates and swimsuits before carrying them down the hall.
I dumped the load on the floor in front of the armoire before sorting them and putting everything away. When I was done, I went to my sewing room, following the scent of coffee that wafted through the air. I sat and grabbed the big mug off the tray, spinning the chair forward so I could sip my coffee and plan my project.
And then I nearly dropped the scalding hot liquid.
That sneaky bastard.
That underhanded, heavy-handed bastard.
Putting the cup down before I hurt myself—or him—I moved to the doorway.
Or maybe it was just a way because there was no damn door.
It was an open space.
Storming across the hall, I was ready to demand he put it back when I noticed he was still on the phone.
Maximo was leaning back in his chair, his legs kicked up on his desk and his cell pressed to his ear. But his gaze was on me as he ran his thumb along his bottom lip.
A lip that curled up in a satisfied smirk.
And then the smug, cocky son of a bitch winked.
Winked!
It was insanely hot and could work as porn for women all over the world.
But it was mine.
Not letting on that I wasn’t actually mad, I glared for a few moments before returning across the hall to my coffee and my doorless sewing room.
_______________
“Grrrrr.” My frustration grew as I reached for my scissors.
Considering I’d only been sewing for a few months, I was doing well. Not because I was gifted or effortlessly skilled. But because I worked at it for hours and hours every day. And even when I wasn’t actually sewing, I was usually watching videos about sewing.
But as I glared at the wonky hem on the dress I was attempting, I was forced to admit I’d bitten off more than I could chew.
After tearing out the thread, I tossed the fabric to the side and went to our room.
There’s only one thing that can help me relax right now.
But he’s gone, so I’ll settle for a swim.
I stripped down and slathered on sunblock before getting dressed in my swimsuit, coverup, and flip-flops. I grabbed my iPad and headed outside.
After dumping my stuff on the table, I slipped off my shoes and coverup before diving into the warm water. I swam a few laps before coming up to see Ash sitting on the patio couch.
“Hey,” I said.
“Did you put on sunblock?”
“Yeah.”
“Enough?”
“I could’ve slid down here on my belly like a penguin, I’m so greased up.”
He gave me a dimpled smile. “Got a Diet Coke and water for you.”
“Thanks.”
I swam for a while longer, my mind working at the hem issue while the water worked at my tight muscles.
When my arms began to ache, I pulled myself out of the pool to chug my Diet Coke before it got warm.
“You headed in?” Ash asked.
“It’s so nice, I think I’m going to stay out and read.” I scanned his black tee and black slacks. Even though it was only in the low seventies, he had to be roasting in the sun. “You don’t have to stay out, though.”
He gave me his version of the look.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve been staying home alone since I was four.”
That had clearly been the wrong thing to say because his expression went hard.
I’d long ago forgiven Ash for pointing a gun at me. First of all, it wasn’t like it’d been the first time someone had aimed a gun my way. At least he hadn’t pressed it to my head—that hurt far worse than people assumed.
Beyond that, he hadn’t done anything to make me feel unsafe since. He hadn’t so much as raised his voice, even when we’d worked on math—and I was sure that experience had made him want to die a slow