Page 74 of Guardian Daddy

Ethan nodded. “No problem. Hope I’m not overstepping but Samantha was instructing Polly to hire movers to move everything from her place.”

“And put it where?” Rhodes asked.

“Here.”

Rhodes sighed. He ran his hand over his face. “She’s misunderstood. I’ll talk to her.”

Misunderstood? Or had she just decided to do what she wanted to do?

Ethan wasn’t so sure.

“We can’t spread ourselves among the three of you if you’re all going to different places,” Ethan pointed out. “And before you say it, you are the target of the stalker. We have to go with you.”

And Ethan wasn’t willing to leave Cate on her own.

“I know.” Rhodes nodded. “I called Ink. He can’t spare anyone else for Samantha at the moment. So whoever is out of the house takes a guard. And at night, one of you should be here with Cate. If Samantha and I are going to different places in the evening, we’ll have to hire someone from an agency. Ink is looking into someone temporary who can be on call. At least this asshole hasn’t targeted Cate in any of their notes.”

“Probably doesn’t see her as a threat since she’s your sister.”

“I still don’t want her here alone at night, and I would rather you were the one here with her. We’ll sit down and go over our schedules when we get back.”

19

Ethan knocked on Cate’s office door.

“Come in.”

Walking in, he found her hunched over her desk, reading something on her computer screen. He didn’t think she could retreat any further, but since Samantha moved in four days ago, Cate had become a ghost in her own home.

He hadn’t been able to get her to come read with him outside even once.

And he didn’t like that one bit.

“Cate?” he asked, looking around while he waited for her to acknowledge him.

He noticed a full tray sitting on the end of the desk.

Was she eating any of the food the housekeeper brought her?

She glanced up, blinking in surprise. “Oh, Ethan, hello. Can I help you?”

“I’m concerned about you,” he barked. Shit. He hadn’t meant to snap. “Are you eating? Sleeping?”

“What? Yes, I’m eating and sleeping.”

“Enough?” he pressed.

“I guess that depends on what you think enough is.”

“Don’t try to play word games with me,” he said firmly. “Three meals, two snacks, lots of water, and eight hours sleep. Minimum.”

“Is that what you do?” she asked.

“Yes.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Helps keep me big and strong.”

“I’m not sure I desire muscles that big.” But she couldn’t seem to take her gaze off him. And he had to stop himself from puffing up like a rooster. “And I don’t need as much food as you do.”

“But you need as much sleep. And some food. Was this lunch?” He gestured at the tray.

---