Page 23 of Guardian Daddy

“All right, I’ll open the gate so you can proceed.”

Ethan waited for him at the front door, watching as he parked his car and then retrieved a briefcase from the backseat.

He was a slender guy with dark hair and tanned skin. His clothes looked expensive and tidy. And his smile appeared genuine.

“Hi, I’m Oliver. And you’re either Ethan or Seth. Cate didn’t know which of you would be here.”

“Ethan,” he said abruptly. “I need to give you a pat-down.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Yeah? Don’t be sorry about that.”

It wasn’t strictly necessary. Rhodes had told him that Oliver had worked for Cate for over a year and that they both trusted him.

But Ethan was in overprotective mode when it came to Cate.

He briskly patted Oliver down, then waved him through.

“Cate’s in her office.”

“Of course she is. Where else would our little dictator be?” Oliver said cheerfully.

“Dictator?” Ethan didn’t like that.

“Oh, I meant that in the nicest way possible. She’s a work-a-holic is our Cate.”

For some reason, Ethan didn’t like Oliver calling Cate ‘our.’

Chill out, man.

“Hey, I’m usually here a few times a week. Are you going to give me a pat-down every time?”

“Perhaps. Is that a problem?”

“No. No problem!” Oliver laughed as he walked through the house toward Cate’s office. Ethan shook his head at himself.

He was acting like an idiot.

Was he actually jealous because Oliver got to see Cate?

What he needed to do was concentrate on his actual job and stop worrying about his client.

You’re being an idiot.

Yep. But he still couldn’t stop himself from knocking on her office door twenty minutes later, holding a bowl of sliced strawberries.

He’d seen Mrs. Sanders, Rip’s housekeeper, bring her strawberries every afternoon. However, the older woman had an appointment this afternoon and he couldn’t stand the idea of Cate going without her afternoon snack.

To his surprise, Oliver answered the door. Dressed in just an undershirt.

What the heck?

Then Ethan noticed how warm it was in the room. Cate obviously felt the cold if she had a heater on. The rest of the house was kept at an acceptable sixty-seven degrees to combat the heat outside.

“Hi, Ethan!” Oliver said. “Oh, strawberries? Perfect. I love strawberries.”

“These aren’t for you,” Ethan told him bluntly.

“You don’t love strawberries,” Cate said, glancing over at Oliver with a small frown. “You’re allergic to them. You break out in hives and scratch a lot. And your throat swells up and makes it hard for you to breathe.”

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