Page 49 of The Meaning Of You

“Hello?” My gaze tracked the property’s boundary as I waited for a reply, but other than a few cicadas and the distant call of a bellbird somewhere in the bush, silence reigned.Dammit.

Remembering Nick’s break-in, I hesitated. Surely not. No self-respecting thief would park their getaway car bang in front of the house they were robbing in broad daylight, right? Nevertheless, I scanned the vicinity for something I could use as a weapon, but unless I could fell the intruder with a handful of gravel or a terracotta pot brimming with petunias, I was out of luck.

Actually, the pot wasn’t such a bad idea, and I was about to reach for it when another thought struck me. Nick drove an Audi. I was almost positive. It was also a more likely explanation than being robbed in broad daylight on a Saturday afternoon. Especially when,unlikeNick, I had a top alarm system that I actually used.

Feeling reassured, I let myself into the house, disarmed the alarm, and set the air con to freeze-your-balls-off-in-a-hot-minute. That done, I stepped into the open-plan living area, dumped my bag on the sofa, and took a look around. It didn’t take long to clock a pair of long denim-clad legs extending from a chair on the back deck, and unless my thief was taking a break to enjoy the country view, I figured I’d found Nick.

Not sure what to make of his sudden appearance on my doorstep, I wandered over to the ranch slider and surreptitiously watched him for a moment. He looked exhausted and was slouched so far down in the chair he was almost sliding off. His face was tilted up to the late afternoon sun, eyes closed, three empty beer cans scattered at his feet, and an open bottle of whisky dangling from his hand above a large carboard box.

Oh boy.

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but one thing was certain, my evening had just taken a turn for the complicated. I should’vefelt pissy about that, especially since the man had all but ghosted me since our New Year’s conversation, but I didn’t. Nick was on a huge emotional rollercoaster, and none of it was about me, even if a part of me wished it were.

I studied him, unseen, through the glass, his faded butter-soft jeans tight on his thighs, a pale lemon T-shirt with the wordsCertified Black Sheepprinted across the chest, making me smile. Black rubber jandals sat kicked to the side, his bronzed feet left bare and oddly sensual against the dark stain of the deck. I’d have taken him for relaxed if it weren’t for the tension rolling off him in waves.

It made me take a closer look and I didn’t like what I saw. There was something achingly lonely about the picture he painted in that chair. Locked down tighter than a drag queen’s tuck, Nick wouldn’t have found his way to my house on a whim. I knew that much. His jaw was rough with thick silver stubble like he hadn’t shaved in days, and weary lines pulled at his eyes and mouth like a man who’d fought too many battles for too long against enemies he couldn’t name. But more than anything else, Nick Fisher looked... lost.

Something had brought him here. Something big. And for a few ridiculous seconds, I wanted nothing more than to gather him in my arms and tell him that whatever it was, everything would be okay. That I would stand guard over him until it was.

I blinked and looked down, stunned at the force of my craving to do exactly that. To protect this man. To keep him safe until the world was a gentler place for him to breathe again.

I’d either lost my marbles completely or had a death wish, because if I knew one thing about Nick, the stubborn fucker wouldn’t thank me for trying.

“You gonna stand there all day?”

My gaze jerked up to find Nick watching me with glassy eyes and a lazy smile.

“Come on out.” He waved me onto the deck with his free hand, his words soft and slurred at the edges, like butter melting in the sun. The careful picking and placing of words answered any question I might’ve had about how much whisky he’d had.

I opened the ranch slider and stepped onto the deck. “You leave your gate unchained foroneday and look what happens. Strangers invite themselves onto your deck.” Okay, so maybe a little pissy at the ghosting.

Nick’s smile tipped into a beaming grin and he looked me up and down far too slowly to be entirely comfortable. “Aw, I missed you too.”

I snorted dismissively. “Yeah, I doubt that, considering you’ve been avoiding my calls since New Year.”

He had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Here.” I threw him a wide-brimmed sunhat. “Put that on before you burn.”

He caught the hat and set it on his lap. “It’s too late in the day for that.”

“I wasn’t asking,” I reiterated. “My deck, my rules. That sun still has some heat and by the look of your face, you’ve caught far too much of it already. Put. It. On.”

He looked about to argue before his gaze flicked up to the scar on my forehead, which was still a little lumpy. “It healed nicely” was all he said before sliding the hat onto his head without any further comment.

I pulled my own hat into place and grabbed one of the other chairs.

He eyed me thoughtfully. “Does it bother you? The scar?”

Heat raced into my cheeks. “Of course not,” I lied, kicking off my shoes and loosening my tie. The fact that I hated seeing it in the mirror every morning and applied silicone gel twice a day meant nothing. “I’m too old to worry about vain shit like that.”

He waited until I looked up, then said, “Don’t do that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do what?”

“Diminish yourself,” he said gruffly. “Jesus, Madigan, you’re only fifty-five and you’re a handsome guy. You’re allowed to care about how you look. It’s not a crime.”

His compliment set fire to the rest of my face, which seemed to amuse him. “I didn’t say I don’t care,” I flustered, a comment which earned me a look. “Fine, so maybe I care a little. But I refuse to fixate on all that superficial crap. There’re enough older guys doing precisely that and it’s not a good look. It screams insecurity.”

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