Page 83 of Bodyguard By Night

“There are some growing pains with her career. Not to mention learning that she was a burden to her roommates threw her a bit. She’s just licking her wounds. Turnbull’s the perfect place for her.”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “That’s rather intuitive for a guy who hates to get involved with people. And who says it needs to be your house that she stays at? Laverne would put her up in a heartbeat.”

“She stays here—for now.”

He whistled softly. “Careful, buddy. The Doyle women know how to get under a man’s skin.”

If that wasn’t the truth.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” I straightened and followed him to the door, pulling down the heavy door behind us. The April air had a bite to it, but the sun was high and bright, cutting some of the cold. Maybe spring had actually come to stay.

“She might be what you need, man.”

“You were warning me off her yesterday.”

He slapped my arm. “I’ve had time to think on it.”

“You need new hobbies.”

He barked out a quick laugh. “Maybe. Better than dealing with seating charts, that’s for sure. I’ll see you in a few hours.” His long-legged gate slowed as he got to my driveway. “Don’t forget the fit—”

“I got it,” I called after him.

He waved before he got into his SUV and backed out.

Midnight met me on the stairs, lifting his head in the eternal hope for another scoop of food. The dog was always hungry. Maybe I’d pick him up a big bone from the butcher while we were out. Now that I had a houseguest, I’d need some provisions.

Especially when said houseguest was always cooking or baking something.

I unlocked the door, but Midnight decided his sunny patch on the porch was preferable to coming indoors this time.

When music punched me in the face, I almost agreed with him. Apparently, she’d figured out how to hook herself up to my speakers.

Then I spotted Chaos dancing around my kitchen. She must have raided her box of clothes because my sister sure as hell never wore anything like that. At least not off the runway.

Christ, her legs went on for fucking forever. She was wearing some sort of black skintight material that climbed up to criss-cross along her lower belly. Then some lacy half tank cupped her perfect mouthful-sized breasts.

The sun filled my kitchen, streaming across the floor as she twirled around. She wore an oversized sweater in a dark yellow that made her skin glow. It fanned out as she spun, making her look like a crazy mix of hot and bohemian.

I realized the song was Hozier, but instead of the usual watery tones I was used to, it belonged in a club. And she knew every word.

She danced with more heart than style, but it was all Willow. Chaotic and sexy as sin.

The song changed and her eyes opened. She blew away a stray hair that had come out of her braids. “Oh, hey. There you are.” She grinned at me. “Hope you don’t mind. I figured out how to get into your iPad.”

“Music level three,” I said. When the volume lowered, I folded my arms. “And how did you manage that?”

“I saw you punch in your numbers on your phone. Figured it was the same.”

“Evidently, I need to change that.”

“I didn’t snoop.” Her eyes sparkled. “Much.”

I shook my head, then I tore my gaze away from her enough to see what she’d been up to. “What happened to my kitchen?”

“Oh.” She toyed with the end of one braid. “I tried this bougie French toast recipe I found on TikTok. Simplified it.” She ran over to the pile of bread that had lost the war with eggs and milk then she shifted to a smaller plate that was more camera-ready. “It’s really good. I can make you some.”

“No, thanks.”

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