“She never does!”
“With the way you’re acting, can you blame her?” He let that sink in, then added, “I know you don’t want to upset any of the other nice people who are here, many of them kids.”
As if only then remembering the public locale, Heath’s gaze scanned the room.
“We don’t want anyone calling the cops, right? So how about you go cool down and think about things?”
Heath bunched and unbunched, but by some miracle he held himself in check.
“Where are you staying?” Cannon asked. “Nearby? Close enough that we can get together later and talk?”
Understanding why he asked, Yvette stayed quiet.
Suspicion increased Heath’s color. “We?”
“You and me.”
He looked beyond Cannon to where Yvette stood, arms crossed, her face hot.
Cannon stepped into his line of vision. “Look at me, Heath. Not her.”
“I’m at the Colonial.”
“I know where it is,” Cannon said. “I’ve stayed there myself before when I visit town.”
“You don’t live here?”
“Not full-time.” Cannon started edging him toward the front door. “You have a card or anything? I’ll give you a call and we can arrange a time to sit down and settle this. What do you think?”
With pronounced longing, Heath looked back, trying to see her, but Cannon kept his attention with his hand on his shoulder. “Breakfast, maybe? Or lunch?”
Outmaneuvered, Heath nodded. “Sure, that’d be fine.” He dug a card from his wallet and handed it over, but then planted his feet at the door. “Understand, though, I will talk with her.” He looked back at Yvette again. “I gave you time. I tried to be understanding. You’ve dodged me long enough.”
And with that, he slammed out.
Frozen to the spot, Yvette admired how well Cannon had handled that. Unlike her, he hadn’t gotten distraught. He hadn’t gotten physical either, as Armie had wanted to do.
Maybe it was Cannon’s extreme ability that kept him from needing to react. He could handle whatever Heath did and knew it, so why get riled up about it?
When Cannon stayed at the door, making sure Heath actually drove away, she ducked around the corner and headed for the break room. With every step she felt eyes on her, everyone watching, everyone speculating.
Again.
Keeping her head up and her gaze straight ahead, she tried not to race away. Cannon deserved so much more than the trouble she brought him. He deserved more than a spectacle.
Damn it, she was working on it. No way would she let Heath ruin her progress.
* * *
DOING HIS BEST to hide his rage, Cannon watched Heath go to his car, noted the make and model, the plates, and waited until the bastard disappeared around the corner.
He turned and wasn’t at all surprised to see Yvette gone and Armie there.
“She’s in the break room,” Armie said low. “She walked off like the queen, but she’s upset. Makes me want to choke that bastard.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ll handle it,” Cannon said.
“Anything I can do?”
“Call the Colonial and ask for Heath Nordan. See if you can leave a message for him. I want to make sure that’s where he’s at.”
“Sure thing.” Armie kept pace beside him. “I’m betting he’s the one who dicked with your tires.”
“If it isn’t, then I have more than one problem, don’t I?” He left Armie at the reception desk to make the call and headed toward the break room.
Stack cut him off. “She okay?”
“She will be.” After he reassured her—which he planned to do right now.
Denver blocked his way. “You need anything?”
He shook his head. “Got it covered, thanks.”
Miles and Brand crowded in, too. Cannon almost laughed. Yvette had an entire army at her disposal, whether she realized it or not.
“Just keep an eye out,” Cannon told them, already knowing they would. They did it for the entire neighborhood.
They’d sure as hell be extra vigilant for one of their own.
And she was. Yvette might not realize it yet, but she’d been accepted into the inner circle, even if that hadn’t been her intention.
He found her seated at the table, spine straight, shoulders back, pose as proud as she could make it.
For a few seconds he just stood there looking at her, taking in her features, that long hair, the trim body. In so many ways, more than just the physical, she turned him on.
She hadn’t bothered with a drink. Her hands rested, calm and still, on the tabletop, but he saw the pulse beating in her throat, the way she breathed too deeply.
Now that he’d met Heath, he better understood why she thought she had a problem. In a dozen different ways, as soon as humanly possible, he’d show her—again—that she didn’t.
Not with him.
“Hey.”
At his soft voice, she looked up. Their gazes held. “He’s gone?”
“Yeah.” Cannon came on in, but he didn’t sit. Instead he pulled her up and out of her chair and into his arms.
She resisted. “You asked where he was staying so you could check up on him, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“You won’t actually meet with him, will you?”
“I doubt he’ll agree to it, but if he does, sure.” With one finger, he traced her mouth. “What better way to make things clear to him.”
“With the way you’re acting, can you blame her?” He let that sink in, then added, “I know you don’t want to upset any of the other nice people who are here, many of them kids.”
As if only then remembering the public locale, Heath’s gaze scanned the room.
“We don’t want anyone calling the cops, right? So how about you go cool down and think about things?”
Heath bunched and unbunched, but by some miracle he held himself in check.
“Where are you staying?” Cannon asked. “Nearby? Close enough that we can get together later and talk?”
Understanding why he asked, Yvette stayed quiet.
Suspicion increased Heath’s color. “We?”
“You and me.”
He looked beyond Cannon to where Yvette stood, arms crossed, her face hot.
Cannon stepped into his line of vision. “Look at me, Heath. Not her.”
“I’m at the Colonial.”
“I know where it is,” Cannon said. “I’ve stayed there myself before when I visit town.”
“You don’t live here?”
“Not full-time.” Cannon started edging him toward the front door. “You have a card or anything? I’ll give you a call and we can arrange a time to sit down and settle this. What do you think?”
With pronounced longing, Heath looked back, trying to see her, but Cannon kept his attention with his hand on his shoulder. “Breakfast, maybe? Or lunch?”
Outmaneuvered, Heath nodded. “Sure, that’d be fine.” He dug a card from his wallet and handed it over, but then planted his feet at the door. “Understand, though, I will talk with her.” He looked back at Yvette again. “I gave you time. I tried to be understanding. You’ve dodged me long enough.”
And with that, he slammed out.
Frozen to the spot, Yvette admired how well Cannon had handled that. Unlike her, he hadn’t gotten distraught. He hadn’t gotten physical either, as Armie had wanted to do.
Maybe it was Cannon’s extreme ability that kept him from needing to react. He could handle whatever Heath did and knew it, so why get riled up about it?
When Cannon stayed at the door, making sure Heath actually drove away, she ducked around the corner and headed for the break room. With every step she felt eyes on her, everyone watching, everyone speculating.
Again.
Keeping her head up and her gaze straight ahead, she tried not to race away. Cannon deserved so much more than the trouble she brought him. He deserved more than a spectacle.
Damn it, she was working on it. No way would she let Heath ruin her progress.
* * *
DOING HIS BEST to hide his rage, Cannon watched Heath go to his car, noted the make and model, the plates, and waited until the bastard disappeared around the corner.
He turned and wasn’t at all surprised to see Yvette gone and Armie there.
“She’s in the break room,” Armie said low. “She walked off like the queen, but she’s upset. Makes me want to choke that bastard.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ll handle it,” Cannon said.
“Anything I can do?”
“Call the Colonial and ask for Heath Nordan. See if you can leave a message for him. I want to make sure that’s where he’s at.”
“Sure thing.” Armie kept pace beside him. “I’m betting he’s the one who dicked with your tires.”
“If it isn’t, then I have more than one problem, don’t I?” He left Armie at the reception desk to make the call and headed toward the break room.
Stack cut him off. “She okay?”
“She will be.” After he reassured her—which he planned to do right now.
Denver blocked his way. “You need anything?”
He shook his head. “Got it covered, thanks.”
Miles and Brand crowded in, too. Cannon almost laughed. Yvette had an entire army at her disposal, whether she realized it or not.
“Just keep an eye out,” Cannon told them, already knowing they would. They did it for the entire neighborhood.
They’d sure as hell be extra vigilant for one of their own.
And she was. Yvette might not realize it yet, but she’d been accepted into the inner circle, even if that hadn’t been her intention.
He found her seated at the table, spine straight, shoulders back, pose as proud as she could make it.
For a few seconds he just stood there looking at her, taking in her features, that long hair, the trim body. In so many ways, more than just the physical, she turned him on.
She hadn’t bothered with a drink. Her hands rested, calm and still, on the tabletop, but he saw the pulse beating in her throat, the way she breathed too deeply.
Now that he’d met Heath, he better understood why she thought she had a problem. In a dozen different ways, as soon as humanly possible, he’d show her—again—that she didn’t.
Not with him.
“Hey.”
At his soft voice, she looked up. Their gazes held. “He’s gone?”
“Yeah.” Cannon came on in, but he didn’t sit. Instead he pulled her up and out of her chair and into his arms.
She resisted. “You asked where he was staying so you could check up on him, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“You won’t actually meet with him, will you?”
“I doubt he’ll agree to it, but if he does, sure.” With one finger, he traced her mouth. “What better way to make things clear to him.”
