“Sorry kid.” He shakes his head.

She lets out a groan, but still goes to her backpack and digs through it, taking out a book before going to the couch.

As she plants herself on one of the overstuffed cushions, I walk to the kitchen where Clay is unpacking the shopping bags. When his eyes come to me, a very inconvenient tingle slips down my spine.

“Come here, babe,” he says quietly.

I keep my feet firmly planted where I’m standing. “Do you want to show me where everything is? I should get the lasagna started since it will take some time.”

“No, what I want is for you to come here.”

I let out a breath of frustration, not with him but with myself, because lord, I want to listen to him and that is so not like me. “Clay.”

“All right I’ll come to you.” He stops what he’s doing and walks toward me.

I tense, not sure that I’ll be able to handle it if he kisses me again. Putting my hand up to stop him when he’s close, he drops his eyes to my hand and smiles then lifts his hands toward my face, and I hold my breath not sure what he’s up to. Then a weight is lifted off my head and I feel all kinds of idiotic as he places the hardhat I was still wearing on the counter next to me.

“So nervous, Mouse,” he says softly, then leans in, his lips brushing against my ear where he whispers. “I won’t attack you with Winter here, you’re safe for a bit.”

He leans back and I wonder if it’s obvious that my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might jump out of my chest.

“Come on.” His hand grasps mine and he leads me to the bags on the counter. “Just tell me what you need and what you want me to do.”

Clearing my throat, I look at the stuff on the counter, then with a deep breath, I get started on making dinner, not even bothering to ask how I got myself into this situation. It’s obvious that I’ve fallen into some strange alternate reality like that movie where the guy had all his ex-girlfriends show up to show him where he went wrong in life.

“Have you spoken to your friend from work, the one you went out with?” Clay asks while going over to the oven and turning it on to preheat.

“Yeah, but not much because work’s been busy, but she’s still seeing the guy she met at the bar that night, and she apologized for not walking me out of the bar when we went out.” I look over at him. “And I check my car before I get in it for any kind of tracker and haven’t found one, so I don’t think someone was after me but instead after my car.”

He gives me a look that is filled with what can only be described as pride. “Smart girl.”