Page 20 of An Indecent Longing

The king-size bed’s massive frame took up practically half the room. Ben had joked that Ian could get lost in there all by himself.

And when he lay Dorrie on the bed, she looked small and pale against the dark sheets.

Like she should be bookended by two men strong enough to keep her safe.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the quilt Ian always kept on the chair by the bow window and spread it over her. Their grammy had made that quilt for Ian a few months before she’d died. Ian had kept it in storage until he’d finished this room. Ben figured that meant Ian was staying for a while.

His watch vibrated, alerting him that someone had opened the garage door.

Since only one person had the code and no alarms had been triggered, that meant one thing.

Ian was home.

Go time. Let’s see if you really are as smart as you think you are.

By the time he made it back downstairs, Ian was in the kitchen, bottle of beer in his hand.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Ben watched his cousin take a deep breath and release it before downing half the bottle in one swallow.

“Hey.”

Ian turned to look at him, checking him out from head to toe before nodding. His cousin probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it. It was habit now, an ingrained response born from their childhoods.

“Any problems?” Ian watched him with a steady gaze.

Ben shook his head. “None I couldn’t handle. And nothing Dorrie couldn’t fix.”

Ian’s gaze narrowed and tension radiated off him in waves.

His cousin didn’t look like a badass. He didn’t have a trace of thug anywhere in his DNA, but when he looked at you like that, even the most hardened criminal knew enough to be frightened.

“What do you mean? Were you hit? Was she—” Ian’s jaw flexed. “Is she okay?”

Christ, I hope he doesn’t go ballistic. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Too late now.

“She’s fine. Not injured at all, not even a scrape.”

It was a measure of Ian’s fatigue that he actually looked relieved to hear that. Downing the rest of the bottle of beer, he tossed it in the recycling bin then reached for another.

“Good. Thanks. I’m heading to bed.”

Ian began to walk toward him but Ben didn’t move.

“Are you going to tell me why?”

Ben didn’t have to explain himself. Ian knew exactly what he was asking.

Shaking his head, Ian kept walking. “Nothing to tell. She’s an old acquaintance.”

“Sure she’s not more than that?”

Ian brushed past him on his way to the stairs. “I’m beat, Ben. Tomorrow.”

Yeah, it already was tomorrow, and Ben had the crystal-clear realization that he’d probably made a huge mistake.

Fucking hell. He didn’t usually make mistakes this big. He was known for his ability to make the right decision in a split second.

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