Page 11 of Hunted

And Leila was definitely a temporary feature in his life.

To be truthful, though, no woman had ever grabbed his attention quite like she had. He still couldn’t explain it.

Cursing himself inwardly, he walked back down the hall to the great room, then into the attached open kitchen. This attraction between them couldn’t have happened at a worse time, with her in danger and him promising to protect her. Wanting her might make him weak, vulnerable. He might make stupid decisions, and Clint wasn’t usually a stupid guy.

Since retiring, he’d been focused on living a quiet, solitary life, running his gun range and minding his own business. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d dated anyone or taken a woman to bed. It just hadn’t been a priority for him. His life was simpler and less complicated when he kept to himself.

But involving himself with Leila and Thomas and their situation had just plunged him head first into a whole, deep ocean of issues, including the instant, undeniable connection they shared.

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face, then gathered the supplies he’d need before carrying them outside to the grill. Staying busy helped clear his head and keep him on track. Now, if he could just get his libido on-board with the plan, he’d be all set.

“That was delicious,” Leila said, pushing back from the dining room table two hours later. “If you don’t mind keeping an eye on Thomas, I’ll clean up. He gets a little squirmy in the booster seat.” She’d brought the kid chair from her apartment because there was no other way to keep an eighteen-month-old safe and under control at the table.

“Happy to,” Clint said and scooted his chair closer to Thomas.

They were kind of cute together—the big man and the little boy. She bit back a sigh. Too bad her son didn’t have a father worth a damn. She shook that thought away as she gathered the dirty dishes together and carried them all to the kitchen sink. “Seriously, that’s the best meal I’ve had in a while,” she said as she opened the dishwasher.

“You don’t cook?” Clint asked.

“Oh, I do. I enjoy it, too, but with just myself and Thomas to feed, making a big meal just doesn’t seem worth it. Well, you know how it is, being single.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she flinched. Honestly, she didn’t know enough about him to say whether he had a girlfriend or not. Like in his shop, there were no happy couple pictures sitting around the house, and he didn’t have a ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean squat these days. Leila was shocked by how much she wanted him to agree, to confirm that there was no one special in his life. Not that it was any of her business, but man, oh man. She hoped there wasn’t.

Which was silly. The last thing she needed right now was to get involved with a new man. Not with her crazy ex out of prison and on her tail. She needed to be focused on Thomas and keeping them both safe, not the tingle that raced down her spine when Clint was near her.

When he didn’t answer right away, she hazarded a glance at him over her shoulder as she stuck the dishes in the dishwasher. He was laughing with Thomas, telling him a story about the toy car Clint ran across the table. Her son was making vroom noises. Warmth squeezed her heart tight at the sweetness of it. Clint was good with kids, and Thomas was clearly eating up the attention. Her poor son hadn’t known anything like a father-figure. Right now, he was too young to notice much, but that would change before long.

Soon, Leila’s influence alone wouldn’t be enough, no matter how hard she tired.

She turned back to the sink and blinked hard against the tears now stinging her eyes.

“Yeah,” Clint said, suddenly behind her. “I don’t really cook much either, unless you consider grilling high cuisine.”

Startled, Leila turned fast to find him not two feet away. He’d moved to the kitchen with Thomas on his hip without her even realizing. Her son’s eyes were getting droopy. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts about Clint and her future that she hadn’t noticed. Not good for a woman who needed to on guard at all times.

Leila leaned back against the edge of the sink and crossed her arms, putting a bit more distance between them. It wasn’t enough to stop her from feeling the heat of him through her scrub shirt, nor did it stop her from inhaling his scent—soap and fabric softener and warm, clean male. Feeling oddly nervous, she shuffled her feet, the rubber soles of her white sneakers squeaking against his hardwood floor. She hadn’t changed after work and imagined she probably looked a mess after the long, stressful day. She did her best not to fidget. She shouldn’t careabout how she looked, about whether Clint found her attractive. And yet, she did.

“Well, whatever you call it, dinner was great.” Could she sound any lamer? “I, uh, should probably get that crib together. It’s almost time to put Thomas down for the night.” She took her son, careful not to touch Clint, and sidled out of the danger zone that was a three feet radius around Clint. She took off for the guest bedroom, exhaling her pent-up breath as she went. He was so strong and masculine and handsome and…

Nope. Totally off-limits.

It had been so long, too long, since she’d been with a man. Mike had been her one and only.

That had to explain her strong reactions to this guy, right?

Lust and stress. Not a winning combination.

While Clint finished cleaning the kitchen, she carried Thomas into the guest room and put him down on the bed. He was sleepy enough to stay still—thank goodness—with a book to flip through. While he was occupied, she opened the box that leaned against the wall, laying out all the pieces of the crib on the floor, then grabbing the directions to put it together.

Clint joined her a few moments later and chuckled. “You don’t need those. I can figure it out. We’ll need tools though. Let me grab some from the garage. Be right back.”

He disappeared through a door down the hall and returned a moment later with a toolbox. Men. She always followed the directions. A by-the-book kind of gal. Then again, look where it had gotten her so far in life. Perhaps Clint had the right idea,following his gut and instincts. If only her own instincts were safe for her to trust.

Clint carefully laid out screwdrivers and wrenches and even a hammer. He glanced over at Thomas and then back to her. “Will we wake him?”

“Huh? Oh.” She saw that Thomas’s eyes were shut, and he had his thumb in him mouth. “I doubt it,” Leila said. “He’s always been a sound sleeper once he’s out. For a single mom, that’s a blessing.” Satisfied that they wouldn’t disturb him, she picked up the direction sheet again, noticing Clint’s raised brow. “I’m sure you think it’s silly, but I like knowing what to expect.”

“I get that.” Clint shrugged and began picking up pieces and trying to fit them together. When one didn’t work, he went with the next one until he found one that did. “I’m that way about neatness.”

“Yeah? From your SEAL days?” she glanced around at the mess currently on his floor. It must be driving him up the wall. As the mother of a toddler, she’d become used to the chaos a child brought to her life on a regular basis, but Clint was used to living alone. Or at least she thought he was. He’d never answered her question from earlier, she realized, so she tried a different tack. “Well, whoever cleans your place keeps it super nice.”

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