Page 85 of Too Safe

The guys all mutter some version of the same: staying in, going to bed early to rest up for tomorrow. When I ask the girls if they’re going to the game, they wear matching smiles and explain that their aunt is taking them.

Jade, the little sweetheart, asks me about my evening plans, too. Unsure about how much detail to provide, I keep it simple. They don’t need to know that in addition to crashing their family dinner, I’m also one of their brother’s roommates. His unwilling, captive roommate.

“I thought I’d paint my nails. Maybe watch a movie and go to bed early, too.”

It’s Emilia who perks up this time. “You know how to do nails?”

“I do,” I answer cautiously, certain I know where her line of questioning will lead. “Before I came to Lake Chapel, I worked at a salon. I went to cosmetology school when I lived in Ohio,” I explain.

“I didn’t know that,” Locke murmurs, angling toward me, purposefully brushing my arm with his.

“I did,” Kylian declares.

Cocking my head, I turn back to him, but he’s focused on his phone, squinting at a jumble of numbers on the screen. I don’t remember ever telling him about my previous job.

“If you’re going to do your nails anyway, you could always paint ours, too.” Emilia’s delivery is cool and even. There isn’t an ounce of hopefulness to her suggestion. God, that prickly exterior is so much like Kendrick’s.

“I’d be happy to paint your nails. If you have time. And if it’s okay with your brother, of course.”

In a move I’m sure they’ve perfected over the years, both girls turn on Kendrick with wide eyes. A cacophony ofpleasesandCan we? Can we?tumble out of their mouths.

Kendrick looks like he’s going to blow a gasket. The vein that runs along his temple is throbbing to its own rhythm, and his jaw is set in a way that has me concerned he’ll crack a tooth. For the girls’ sake, I hope he doesn’t make this into a big deal. Eventually, he lifts a finger to his lips, hushing his sisters.

“I can bring my stuff downstairs and set up in the kitchen,” I offer. I highly doubt he wants to leave the girls alone with me. Or be forced to hang out in my room.

He inspects me, his rich brown eyes assessing so long that I’m sure he’s formulating a way to reject the idea.

But finally, he glances away and nods.

The girls erupt into cheers, then gush about what colors they want and can they have an accent nail and do I have any glitter polish. They clear the table without complaint, talking a mile a minute while I excuse myself to grab my manicure supplies.

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” I assure them as I head for the stairs.

“Okay, Jojo!” Jade enthusiastically calls back.

Gah. She’s so sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the receiving end of such innocent, unabashed affection before.

I turn back to give her a smile, but she’s already rinsing her plate at the sink. Beside her, Kendrick is supervising. His smile is soft—so different from any expression I’ve ever seen on his face. The tenderness radiating off him is beyond unexpected.

My heart catches in my throat as I secretly watch him watch them. Every child deserves to be looked at with that much love and adoration.

He may hate me for reasons unknown. He may relish the role of the moody bad guy in this house. But Kendrick Taylor can’t fool anyone when these girls are in his orbit.

He turns, his focus shifting my way, so I scurry up the stairs before we can make eye contact. Before he realizes I see his true colors, and I know his secret: Kendrick may have a hard exterior, but he is more than capable of being soft and sweet when he wants to be.

Chapter 35

Josephine

Idon’tknowthatI’ll ever get used to the magnitude of college football in the South. It’s a home game this week, and the stadium is practically pulsing with energy at the start of the second half.

Lake Chapel is up, 24 to 7, and we start the third quarter with possession of the ball.

After meeting up with Hunter for halftime, I settle in next to Kylian on the bench. I’m not sure if the other guys know that I spend most of the game coming and going as I please. Kylian and I have an understanding, even if we haven’t clearly defined it. Sort of like our relationship.

“Brought you a water,” I offer, holding out the cold bottle I already cracked open for him. He accepts it without a word, never taking his eyes off the screens on his lap.

I love watching him work. There’s a calmness that settles around him when he’s in the zone during a game. He’s so focused and intense.

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