Page 8 of Imminent Danger

Tank ran a hand over his jaw. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Kaylie shifted her weight, refusing to meet his eyes for a moment. "What about?"

"You wanted to change the schedule, and I want to know why. Am I not paying you enough?" He swallowed the disappointment and offered the reason he suspected most. "Is it... is it me? Since we met and you know what I'm like?" The question felt acidic on his tongue. "I don't plan on being here with you or coming home early, if that is what you're worried about."

"No." Kaylie straightened as she responded. "It’s nothing like that. You're fine. This is your house, and you should never feel like you can't come here. I figured out the schedule, so it’s no big deal."

"I can pay you more," he insisted, still trying to figure out what had caused her change of heart.

Kaylie shook her head. "You already pay me too much for a house that hardly takes any work."

"That's only because I have you come twice a week,” he grumbled. Left to his own devices, the place descended into chaos very quickly. “And having you cook is the only reason I don't survive on fast food burgers."

"You're not that helpless, surely."

He found himself captivated by the way her lips curved into a gentle smile, revealing a hint of the warmth that lay beneath the surface of her tough exterior.

Tank shrugged. "So you don't need to change the schedule?"

Kaylie shook her head. "Nope. We're good."

He kept his eyes trained on her for another moment, trying to decipher the look on her face. A stubborn lilt to her chin, her jaw tight, and her eyes focused firmly on the corner of the countertop. Emotions subtly danced across her features. Her gaze, though guarded, betrayed her vulnerability. She was desperately trying to maintain her tough facade.

As he studied the delicate contours of her face, he became acutely aware of the small freckles scattered across her nose. And the ridiculous desire to trace his fingers across each one.

“What is it?” he pressed one more time.

Kaylie sighed. “It’s really nothing, Mr. Olson.” A breath rumbled deep in his chest at the name. “It’s just getting darker earlier, and I’d prefer to have Lia home with me before dark.”

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. That explanation actually made sense. A single woman and a little girl wouldn’t want to be riding the bus late at night. He frowned at the idea of the two of them in danger.

She continued without a response from him. “But I’ve already worked it out. Instead of working here in the late afternoons on Tuesdays and Fridays, I’ll come before noon so we can finish before dark.”

Tank considered her solution. “What about your other clients?”

A huff of frustration from the pixie across the counter surprised him. “I’m perfectly capable of running my own business, Mr. Olson.”

Okay, that one was just unnecessary. It was like she could tell the name bothered him. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just… If it is ever too late and you’re still here, you’ll stay so I can give you a ride.”

Kaylie was already shaking her head. “That’s really not necessary.”

Tank stepped closer, surprising himself at just how desperate he was to make her agree. Her eyes tilted to look up at him when she stood her ground. The dark ring around her pupils seemed to hold a hundred untold stories, as if each fleck of color was a chapter in a novel he was eager to unravel.

Tank's fingers twitched involuntarily as he fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline of her jaw, to bridge the gap between them. There was a strength in the way she held herself. He wondered about the stories she carried, the dreams she harbored, and the scars that shaped her resilience.

His gaze remained steady on hers. “I just want you safe. If it’s dark, you’ll let me help.”

Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. But we won’t need it.”

There was no question she believed that. But that vulnerability still simmered, a flicker of uncertainty about him he wished he could eradicate. Tank knew this was more than just a casual agreement. He was promising to keep them safe, even if he was the only one who understood the weight of that promise.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Even after his impromptu visit, Kaylie rarely saw Mr. Olson over the next several weeks. Their interactions were limited to brief exchanges through notes and text messages. She was putting the finishing touches on the set of meals for Mr. Olson’s week when a rhythmic thud from the laundry room caught her attention.

“Lia? What are you doing?” But her daughter’s reply came from the family room, a cheerful invite to come dance with her.

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