Page 20 of Keeping Astrid

If getting surprised wasn’t going to get him killed, resisting the urge to rip off the silk robe that caressed every curve of Astrid’s body was going to give it a red-hot go. Her hair was gathered up on the top of her head in a sexy haphazard knot. Tendrils had escaped and brushed her cheek like a lover’s caress.

Growler grabbed his water again and finished the contents, crushing the bottle to give his hands something to do. Anything to remember his earlier resolve about focusing on the job and not learning every single inch of Astrid’s body.

“You were saying?” The corner of her mouth lifted and her eyes sparkled, as if she knew exactly why he was reacting the way he was.

Had she done it deliberately?

No.

He may have only known Astrid for less than a day, but he’d seen enough to know she was nothing like the women who threw themselves at him in his early days as a SEAL. All they wanted was a trident pin wearer to add to their bedpost. He doubted Astrid had come down here to seduce him.

Although if she did, I wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

Giving himself a mental head slap, he answered her question. “I’m looking for a notepad or something so I can make a list of everything I need to get done.”

Calmly, Astrid walked over to another stack of built-in cabinets, opening a drawer and extracting the items he required. “This what you need for your list making endeavor?” Her eyebrow quirked in question.

Again, her sass only increased his attraction to her.

I’m in so much trouble.

“Yeah, thanks, that’ll work.” He took them from her outstretched hand, making sure not to brush his fingers against hers, even though he wanted to do just that. The vanilla scent he’d smelled on her earlier was stronger. It had to be her body wash or a lotion that she used.

Yeah, staying here was a bad, bad idea.

Chapter Ten

Astrid stared at the ceiling, her body buzzing with an energy she wasn’t used to experiencing. Every inch of her skin vibrated as if she were sitting in a massage chair and it was on top speed.

It was all Callum “Growler” Taylor’s fault. Perhaps if she always referred to him by his full name in her mind, it would make things easier.

Astrid snorted, the sound echoing around the quiet of her bedroom. As if that would make a difference to how she reacted to him.

When she’d come downstairs and found him still in the kitchen, rummaging around, she’d had a moment where she’d thought how right it was, how good he looked in her kitchen, as though he belonged there.

Fortunately, her brain had still functioned, and she was able to say something other than, “Take me against the wall.”

“Ugh!” Astrid tossed the covers aside and padded over to her window, pulling the drapes aside so she could stare down at her backyard. Her dad had put some solar lights around the garden beds, and they cast a creamy beige glow over the plants and edge of the grass.

What would he have thought of Growler? Would he have liked him? He’d probably have quizzed him about his life in the military. Her dad had never served, but he always enjoyed watching movies that depicted past war battles. Astrid would never forget the time they’d gone to Hawaii and toured the Pearl Harbor memorial. It was one of the few times she’d seen her father cry.

“I miss you so much, Dad. I wish you were still here,” she whispered, resting her head against the cool glass.

About to let the drapes fall and go back to bed, Astrid paused, pressing her face hard against the window. Had she imagined that shadow? She squinted her eyes as if that would make it easier to make out anything—it didn’t.

Convinced she’d seen a feral cat, raccoon, or possum, Astrid loosened her fingers a little when she saw something again, in the far corner of her small yard, another movement.

Fear curled around her as the shadow formed into the shape of a person. Gasping, she let the material fall and rushed over to her door, pulling it open.

Her home. The place she had been convinced was her safe haven, looked like it wasn’t. Skidding into the kitchen, she grabbed a large knife from its wooden holder. Not an ideal weapon if the person in her yard had a gun, but it was better than nothing.

Astrid crept toward the sliding door. Was she making a rookie mistake, again? Like she’d done that day in Skid Row. More than likely, but adrenaline overrode her good sense. The instinct to protect herself was a thumping mantra in her mind.

Sweat lined her palm, and she adjusted her grip on the knife as the door began a slow slide open.

Growler!

Not once had she considered calling out to Growler. Why hadn’t she? The guy was in her house. He was a former SEAL. He could probably handle whoever was coming through her door with his eyes shut.

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