Page 26 of Reclaimed

I throw my palm up between us. “Stop talking, Powell.”

He grins, and despite his cocky attitude, I find that stupidly hot.

“What’s in it for you?” I ask again in a measured tone.

“I need my family to get off my back. You pretend to be my girlfriend, I bring you to one of our family dinners, they’re allreminded of what it felt like to fall in love, and they stop asking if my ongoing demand for space is a form of crisis.”

His words remind me of something Juniper said when we went out for coffee.

“He hasn’t been the same.”

“They’re worried.”

“You’re serious?” I don’t know why I seek confirmation when the evidence is in front of me, but the words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

“I am. If everything goes well, hopefully they can catch this guy and we can part ways in a few weeks. You’ll be safe, and my family will be relieved to see me dating. But it’s worth repeating, most importantly, you’ll be safe.”

“Maybe we’re overreacting.”

“I’ve seen enough women in my life scared shitless because of a man. I’m not about to let you be another one when there’s something I can do about it.”

What do I have to lose besides a bit of personal space for a few weeks? I glance down at my stomach, and the answer becomes crystal clear.

“Okay. I’m in. But I draw the line at a blood pact. We can shake on it.” I hold out my hand.

Aiden glances at my palm, my face, then back at my hand again. He slips his large fingers around mine, squeezing. “We have a deal.”

“Now what?” A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of his cat kneading my couch cushions.

“What color do you prefer?”

Aiden pulls some boxes from his duffel bag and I snort. “What’s the matter? Don’t date blondes?”

He lines the four boxes of hair color on my coffee table. “I actually prefer blondes, but it sounds like this guy does too. It’s semi-permanent color so we’ll touch up as needed.”

My stomach pitches. “Where did you hear that?”

“Silas.”

A tense silence fills the air. His head snaps up and he rises to his feet. His large palms cover my elbows and draw me a step closer while those searching blue eyes meet mine.

“I take it you didn’t know,” he murmurs.

The tiny shake of my head is all I can muster. “Manny didn’t say anything about that.”

“Come on.” Aiden links our fingers and, after swiping the boxes into his other arm, leads me down the hall until he finds my kitchen. “Sit.”

The room feels small with him in it rummaging around my cabinets. The old wooden doors creak and clatter as he moves through the room. He drops a stained, red towel and two chip bag clips on the table beside the hair dye.

“Hang tight.”

He leaves the room, only to return a moment later with my hairbrush in his hand.

“You seem like you’ve already got the lay of the land,” I quip.

“I saw the brush when I did a walk through after your shift the other night.” It joins the other items. “Now you just sit back and relax.”

He picks up the towel and snaps it in the air between us. With a smirk, he wraps the cotton around my neck.

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