Page 4 of If You Claim Me
“Cedrick said you took public transit here,” Connor snaps by way of greeting.
“Uh, yeah. I came straight from work.” It was the most logical option. Going home first so I could drive Betty, my beater of a car, which sometimes chooses not to start, would have been a waste of time.
“I would have had a car pick you up.” His brow furrows, which seems to be his standard expression.
“The bus was already going past this street anyway.” I fully expect him to take the books and send me on my way.
He tilts his head. “Does your best friend know you’re here?”
“Of course not.” Flip would have insisted on driving me and acting as my bodyguard.
Connor’s nostrils flare. He spins around, motioning for me to follow him as he strides down the hall. “Meems is waiting for you, and apparently she’s very fucking excited.”
“That makes one of you,” I mutter.
Connor isn’t particularly chatty at Callie’s hockey games, buthe’s not typically this brusque, either. I can’t decide if it’s the change of location or the people involved causing it.
I try to take in the details in the woodwork as I follow Connor through the expansive mansion, but the guy has long legs, and he’s in quite the hurry to get to Meems.Or away from me. He’s wound tight, body tense, hands flexing and releasing with each step. It’s like he’s uncomfortable with my presence, but these are the instructions he’s been given. For someone who is often pegged asnota team player, he seems able to put his own needs aside for the sake of others when it matters.
I follow him up a huge spiral staircase, trying—and failing—not to stare at his ass. In my defense, it’s fucking spectacular. He turns right and stops at the first door.
His eyes find mine, flaring briefly with unease as he taps the door with a single knuckle. “Meems? Can I come in?”
“Of course!” she calls.
He opens the door. “I brought you your librarian.” Connor steps aside and motions for me to go ahead of him.
“And I have your books,” I add as I move past him.
Connor watches me, like he’s cataloging my reactions.
The space has cathedral ceilings, ornate woodwork, lush carpets, and high-backed chairs that make it feel like it belongs in another era. But it’s the tiny spitfire of a woman seated regally in a deep green velvet chair that inspires a shocking wave of relief and puts a smile on my face.
Lucy grips both arms of the chair and pushes to stand.
Connor rushes across the room to help her. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
She brushes away his offer of assistance. “Resting is all I’ve done for the past week.” She turns her bright smile on me. “Dred, I’m so thrilled you’re here.”
“I’m glad I could come see you.” And put to rest my churning worry that she would be too ill to handle a visit. “You have a beautiful home.”
“My late husband liked grand things, may he rest in peace.” She makes the sign of the cross, then reaches for me.
I curve my hand gently around hers, feeling her grandson’s eyes on me. “Connor told me you’ve been sick. Are you feeling better?” I scan her face; she looks tired, and smaller than I remember, but I can’t decide if it’s because this space is huge, or if she’s shrunk since I last saw her.
“I’m fine. Just old, and little things are bigger when you get to be my age.” She squeezes my hand. “Come sit.” She nods to the chair across from her. “Connor, dear, please have Cedrick bring us tea, will you?”
He tucks a hand in his pocket. “It’s already on the way.”
“Of course it is.” She smiles up at him with clear adoration.
A gentle grin tugs the corner of his mouth, as though this small praise is a gift he cherishes. Someone loves Connor Grace, and based on his behavior today, he loves her back just as fiercely. This is the other person Connor is soft for. Hard, angry, baleful Connor is sweet for Callie and his Meems. The dichotomy is dangerously alluring.
Beyond the tattoos hidden under his long-sleeved shirt, the aggressive ice play, and the I-don’t-fucking-care attitude is a man who cares very, very much. So much that he invited me inside his world for the person who means more to him than his privacy.
Meems smiles impishly. “Now that you’ve visited Dred at the library, you can ask her on a date.”
I’m glad the tea hasn’t arrived yet, because I would have sprayed it all over Lucy. As it is, I nearly choke on my spit.
