Page 35 of Golden Touch
When he closes the laptop and turns to face me, I expect him to laugh, but his face goes all warm and sweet, and his voice drops into a low and sexy range. “Still don’t know which real-life demon has got you so spooked. But I don’t play games, honey. I see you need a little space, so I’m giving it to you. When you’re finally ready for me, that’s when we’ll happen. Count on it.”
Then he gets up, checks the locks, and goes upstairs, murmuring “goodnight” on his way.
Count on it.
Oh boy.
I get up and brush my teeth. I take myself to bed alone, like always, but I hear Nash moving around upstairs and feel safer knowing that he’s in the house.
And, fine, a little turned on.
The next morning, I hear my phone ringing when I shut off the shower.Hell. My blood pressure spikes, because only Jennie would call at this hour, and only if it’s important.
After wrapping up in a towel, I scurry out of the bathroom and collide with a cinderblock wall. “Oof!”
“Easy, lady,” Nash says. “Your phone has been ringing since you went into the shower. Thought you should know.”
I manage to take a step backwards and grab my phone from his hand. “Thanks. Sorry if it disturbed you.”
“Wasn’t a problem. I was up making coffee. But now I’m unsettled.”
“Why?”
His gaze heats as it drops to my cleavage. Specifically, the swell of my breasts over the edge of the towel and the place where my tattoo curls down one shoulder and ducks beneath the terrycloth. “You, soaking wet, in a towel. That killer ink on your chest...”
I do, in fact, have killer ink. But I can’t really take credit.
“Fuck. Who needs caffeine?” he growls. “You need any help drying off, you come find me.”
“Right.” The heat of his gaze makes it difficult to think, but I manage to turn away and head for my room.
CHAPTER 15
NASH
Livia disappears into her room, and I need a moment to get myself under control. She has no idea what she does to me.
As I wait for the coffee to brew, I hear her side of a telephone conversation echoing in the quiet building.
“What did he look like?” she asks frantically. “And please tell meexactlywhat he said.”
If I’m not mistaken, her voice is shaking. Somebody is bothering my girl. She’d give me a swift kick to the balls if she heard me call her that. But we’re close now, whether she acknowledges it or not. The spark between us just refuses to die.
The coffee finishes brewing, and I’m pouring it into two travel mugs when her bedroom door opens. She enters the kitchen, fully dressed, and says, “Please tell me one of those is for me.”
“Of course it is.” I hand her the mug that has a quarter cup of almond milk in it, just the way she likes it. “Something going on? Is there a problem?” There must be. She looks pale and unhappy.
She averts her eyes. “I got an email from UPS. The hops you needed are arriving today, so tomorrow you can get your dad on the line and make your first batch of Goldenpour.”
I stare her down. “Pussycat, whatever phone call has youfreaked out and shaky before eight a.m. wasnotabout a UPS delivery.”
Livia looks down at her cup. “Oh, that. It’s nothing for you to worry about. A friend called. I’m having, um, some family issues.”
“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”
She shakes her head quickly. “I got it under control.”
Bullshit, darlin’. But she’s not in a sharing mood, so I’ll have to be patient.
