In a quick about-face, Yvette stopped censuring Armie and jumped to her feet to join him. “It was hidden!” She tugged at Cannon. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”
Keeping her hand in his, Cannon again enjoyed their easy camaraderie. “I think we need to figure out what’s inside.”
“Should I go or stay?” Armie asked.
Remembering their plans, Yvette bit her lip, then deferred to Cannon.
Damn, he wanted her, more now than ever. That she’d gotten Armie to open up made her all the more lovable. Not that she’d needed a lot of help in that department.
The more time he spent with her, the more convinced he was that he’d always loved her. Even back when he’d told himself she was too young. Even when he’d done his best to remember she was a victim. Long before she’d ever gone away.
In so many ways, she’d always appealed to him. When being bold, shy, determined or scared. He’d fought the inevitable for a very long time.
Now that he was done fighting, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
“We lost him again,” Armie said in an exaggerated stage whisper. “So...I could give you an hour.”
Cannon couldn’t yet get out the words.
“Two hours?” Armie offered, managing to look impressed.
Shaking his head, Cannon said, “I might need longer than that.”
“Damn, man, no reason to show off.”
“I was talking about a lifetime.”
Armie turned into all smiles.
Cannon waited to see how Yvette would react.
Indulgent, uncaring that Armie stood there on the alert and apparently not scared off by his out-of-the-blue proclamation, she cuddled up to his chest. Maybe she’d misunderstood, or thought he was only caught up in the moment. Maybe she thought he spoke in sexual terms only. But she patted his chest and looked at him with big, understanding green eyes. “We can worry about the safe later if that’s what you want.”
“Lucky bastard,” Armie whispered.
Freed by his own admission, Cannon tipped up her chin and kissed her—but before Armie could sneak away, he ended it. “Let’s see if we can find a key and pass code. I want to know what’s in that safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
YVETTE WENT THROUGH every drawer, then behind the drawers, trying to find the key and pass code. Armie and Cannon checked the top of the buffet and refrigerator, the tall cabinets, each high place that she couldn’t reach. They even went back out to the garage and into the attic to see if they’d missed something up there.
The space over the garage was now empty.
Finally Armie said, “What about in your grandpa’s bedroom?”
She and Cannon looked at each other.
A little embarrassed by the truth, she shook her head. “Other than when I first moved back in, I haven’t been in there.” She’d thought about it many times, but the loss was still too painful.
Cannon hugged her. “I haven’t been in there either. I only dropped my bags in the spare room.”
Dropped his bags...and then had moved into her room with her.
“The room with only a twin bed?” Armie asked, familiar with the layout of the house. “Wasn’t that cramped?”
Even before Armie started, Yvette bit her lip and her face heated.
Seeing that, Armie gave a knowing smile. “Ah. Never used that little bed, huh? Nice.” He tried to fist bump Yvette, but she refused to play along, swatting at him instead. He managed to turn that into a palm slap, though, and she ended up laughing.
“So, not to be disrespectful or anything, but do you think we could look around? I mean, if I had something private, odds are I’d put it somewhere in my bedroom.”
Agreeing, Yvette led the way down the hall. “I don’t recall Grandpa ever storing anything business-related in his room before. He always kept paperwork in the hutch and buffet in the dining room. Not that I was ever in his room much, usually just if it was my turn to clean house. Then I’d go in only to dust and vacuum.” She pushed the door open and stepped in.
Sunlight poured through the blinds over the window, showing dust motes dancing in the disturbed air. His bed looked the same, the simple chenille spread neatly smoothed over two standard pillows.
Nicks and scratches, earned through years of possession, showed on the dark dresser and chest of drawers. One shallow dish atop a nightstand held loose change and a few old receipts.
Yvette held back. “I’m not sure I feel right going through his things.” As Armie had said, personal stuff was stored in a bedroom. She didn’t know much about her grandfather’s private life; for her, he’d only been a grandfather. But to the rest of the world, he’d still been a man.
Was it possible he’d had a romance or two? She smiled, imagining him with a girlie magazine tucked under the mattress. Or a love letter.
Cannon and Armie both waited for her to decide what she wanted to do. She strolled to a framed photo on the dresser. “This was my grandma. I never really knew her, but I knew that Grandpa never stopped loving her.”
Next to that was a smaller framed photo.
Cannon lifted it, smiling. “You?”
“When I first came here.” She’d been so young, and so incredibly lost. In the picture, she looked shy and a little scared...but her grandfather had fixed that. He’d loved her, given her a home and a purpose and a place to call her own.
Tucked into the big mirror frame over the dresser were more photos of her. School photos, candid shots, a few of her at the pawnshop.
Keeping her hand in his, Cannon again enjoyed their easy camaraderie. “I think we need to figure out what’s inside.”
“Should I go or stay?” Armie asked.
Remembering their plans, Yvette bit her lip, then deferred to Cannon.
Damn, he wanted her, more now than ever. That she’d gotten Armie to open up made her all the more lovable. Not that she’d needed a lot of help in that department.
The more time he spent with her, the more convinced he was that he’d always loved her. Even back when he’d told himself she was too young. Even when he’d done his best to remember she was a victim. Long before she’d ever gone away.
In so many ways, she’d always appealed to him. When being bold, shy, determined or scared. He’d fought the inevitable for a very long time.
Now that he was done fighting, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
“We lost him again,” Armie said in an exaggerated stage whisper. “So...I could give you an hour.”
Cannon couldn’t yet get out the words.
“Two hours?” Armie offered, managing to look impressed.
Shaking his head, Cannon said, “I might need longer than that.”
“Damn, man, no reason to show off.”
“I was talking about a lifetime.”
Armie turned into all smiles.
Cannon waited to see how Yvette would react.
Indulgent, uncaring that Armie stood there on the alert and apparently not scared off by his out-of-the-blue proclamation, she cuddled up to his chest. Maybe she’d misunderstood, or thought he was only caught up in the moment. Maybe she thought he spoke in sexual terms only. But she patted his chest and looked at him with big, understanding green eyes. “We can worry about the safe later if that’s what you want.”
“Lucky bastard,” Armie whispered.
Freed by his own admission, Cannon tipped up her chin and kissed her—but before Armie could sneak away, he ended it. “Let’s see if we can find a key and pass code. I want to know what’s in that safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
YVETTE WENT THROUGH every drawer, then behind the drawers, trying to find the key and pass code. Armie and Cannon checked the top of the buffet and refrigerator, the tall cabinets, each high place that she couldn’t reach. They even went back out to the garage and into the attic to see if they’d missed something up there.
The space over the garage was now empty.
Finally Armie said, “What about in your grandpa’s bedroom?”
She and Cannon looked at each other.
A little embarrassed by the truth, she shook her head. “Other than when I first moved back in, I haven’t been in there.” She’d thought about it many times, but the loss was still too painful.
Cannon hugged her. “I haven’t been in there either. I only dropped my bags in the spare room.”
Dropped his bags...and then had moved into her room with her.
“The room with only a twin bed?” Armie asked, familiar with the layout of the house. “Wasn’t that cramped?”
Even before Armie started, Yvette bit her lip and her face heated.
Seeing that, Armie gave a knowing smile. “Ah. Never used that little bed, huh? Nice.” He tried to fist bump Yvette, but she refused to play along, swatting at him instead. He managed to turn that into a palm slap, though, and she ended up laughing.
“So, not to be disrespectful or anything, but do you think we could look around? I mean, if I had something private, odds are I’d put it somewhere in my bedroom.”
Agreeing, Yvette led the way down the hall. “I don’t recall Grandpa ever storing anything business-related in his room before. He always kept paperwork in the hutch and buffet in the dining room. Not that I was ever in his room much, usually just if it was my turn to clean house. Then I’d go in only to dust and vacuum.” She pushed the door open and stepped in.
Sunlight poured through the blinds over the window, showing dust motes dancing in the disturbed air. His bed looked the same, the simple chenille spread neatly smoothed over two standard pillows.
Nicks and scratches, earned through years of possession, showed on the dark dresser and chest of drawers. One shallow dish atop a nightstand held loose change and a few old receipts.
Yvette held back. “I’m not sure I feel right going through his things.” As Armie had said, personal stuff was stored in a bedroom. She didn’t know much about her grandfather’s private life; for her, he’d only been a grandfather. But to the rest of the world, he’d still been a man.
Was it possible he’d had a romance or two? She smiled, imagining him with a girlie magazine tucked under the mattress. Or a love letter.
Cannon and Armie both waited for her to decide what she wanted to do. She strolled to a framed photo on the dresser. “This was my grandma. I never really knew her, but I knew that Grandpa never stopped loving her.”
Next to that was a smaller framed photo.
Cannon lifted it, smiling. “You?”
“When I first came here.” She’d been so young, and so incredibly lost. In the picture, she looked shy and a little scared...but her grandfather had fixed that. He’d loved her, given her a home and a purpose and a place to call her own.
Tucked into the big mirror frame over the dresser were more photos of her. School photos, candid shots, a few of her at the pawnshop.
