Chapter 27

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Ingrid shut her bedroom door and sat on the bed, patting the mattress with her hand. Glen remained standing at the edge of the room, holding his gloves. When he'd asked her if he could come over, he expected to sit in the living room with Ingrid's mom close by. Not in the bedroom with the door shut and Ingrid looking prettier and more tempting than ever.

She'd put makeup around her eyes and wore hoop earrings that almost touched her bare shoulders. Even her clothes seemed different. Not ones he bought her, but they somehow fit her personality. Booty shorts that were a little too big and a T-shirt that hung off her shoulder and dipped dangerously low, showing the swell of her breasts.

"Have you seen Evan?" she asked.

He slapped his gloves against his palm and then shoved them in the pocket of his vest. "He's laying low this weekend. Goes from his apartment to his dad's house, and then back. Chuck's there watching him. He's not going to go anywhere that we don't know about."

"Stewart's okay?" She crossed her legs on the bed and leaned forward, which only thrust her breasts out more.

Warmth heated his body. "Far as I know. He came home from his shift last night and has stayed home."

"I feel like I should talk to him. Stewart, I mean." She ran her finger around the inside of her hoop earring. "Since I'm back and my parents know why I was gone—after believing I was off on some once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity thanks to Evan, maybe it'd be best if Stewart hears my side of what happened. He probably thinks I was in New York, too."

"He knows the truth. It was all in the report," said Glen.

"But, he won't believe it." She groaned. "I just feel...unsettled."

"You need time. Don't expect everything to feel comfortable or like it used to be before you hooked up with Kingsley. Things have a way of working out, eventually."

Her gaze traveled from his boots to his eyes. "Does that include us?"

For how street smart, mature, and strong Ingrid was before he learned how young she really was, she either couldn't mask her feelings for him or his own was reflected back at him. He couldn't forget what they'd started or how he'd wanted her in his life.

She asked the question he asked himself all day and night long.

He walked over to her window and looked out at Thad at the end of the street. It was unfair of him to let her continue believing that what they'd done would happen again in the future. He needed to force her to check her emotions before she ended up hurt even more. What they both wanted was impossible, and he was responsible for making sure she moved on without him.

"You need to concentrate on rebuilding your life." He leaned against the wall. "You've gone through something not many people have done, and you've got a second chance."

"I know," she said quietly standing and walking over to him. "But, there's still Evan out there, and I don't know what he's going to do. I worry about my parents and Stewart and you and—"

He framed her face with his hands unable to keep from touching her. "You lost two years of your life trying to take care of those you loved. We get this shit cleaned up, make your world safe again, and you have your whole life ahead of you."

She was close. He was here. She looked damn good, and he wanted her.

Then, he kissed her. God damnit.

Her lips eagerly accepted him, parting when he tasted her. He groaned and pulled away without letting her go. His damn breath came heavy and fast. What the fuck was he doing?

Ingrid rocked to her tiptoes and captured his lips before he could find the strength to leave the room, leave the house, leave her.

Taking her cue from him, she mimicked his kiss, and he was helpless to stop her.

Hell, he'd taught her what he liked, and she responded as if he gave her life.

He pulled away and stepped around her. His cock hard and uncomfortable in his jeans, he needed to go cold turkey.

"There is no us, Blue," he said, turning back around and looking at her. "You're twenty years old."

"So," she said.

"I'm forty-three." He took out his gloves, needing something to keep his hands busy and to keep from touching her. "Tomorrow, a man named Hanley will be watching the house while we're at Port Loaders since Evan doesn't work on Mondays. The rest of the week, we'll verify he is at work, so you'll know you're safe. If you need help, you call 911 during the day. Then, between the Notus members, one of us will protect you through the night. That I can promise you."

"Glen?" She grabbed his vest. "What are you saying about our ages?"

"I'm too old for you." He looked down at her hand.

She refused to let go of him. "Says who?"

"Me."

She leaned against him. "I wasn't the one who made the moves on you."

"I thought you were twenty-seven."

"You're going to let a seven-year difference stop you?" She stepped away from him. "I can't believe you," she muttered.

Good. Anger was a good sign she understood.

"You haven't lived your—"

Her bark of laughter pierced him. He rubbed his mouth.

Ingrid looked around her room as if trying to grab on to something that would support her argument. He followed her gaze. She had a room filled with her childhood. Pictures, awards in frames, a few stuffed animals were thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room as if long forgotten, and a ton of makeup and fingernail polish sat scattered on her dresser.

"What if I want to leave?" she whispered.

He cocked his head, his body on alert. "You need to go somewhere?"

"Away." She lifted her hands. "Out of here, so you'll see me again. Really see me, like you had when I stayed with you."

"Ingrid, I —"

"Just..." She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. "Tell me one thing."

He pressed his lips together and the spasm in his lip intensified. She had a way to bring out the best and worst in him.

Her gaze narrowed. "If I was seven years older would you be lying in bed with me, right now, holding me, loving me?"

"In a heartbeat, Blue."

She faced him, and for a rare moment, he was unable to read her emotions. Knowing enough had been said, he walked to the door of her bedroom.

"Glen?" she said, stopping him from leaving.

He stood with his hand on the doorknob. If he turned around, he'd stay. He'd take her to bed and do all those things she'd listed. "Yeah?"

"The first time I saw you, I couldn't stop looking, and it wasn't because you were a biker or sexy or intimidating or any of those things you would imagine. I couldn't look away because I admired your control. I'd never seen a man overpower someone without anger. It was as if you were strong enough to stop yourself from hurting him. It's crazy, but you reminded me of my dad before his accident. The confidence. The control. The enjoyment from living. I was enthralled and seeing you made me happy for reasons I never wanted to think about. And, while I stood there watching you, for one minute, I had a moment where nothing else mattered." She paused. "Then, you kept showing up to save me. The last thing I wanted to do was fall in love or trust someone. I was homeless. I-I'm not even pretty enough to tempt someone to look a second time at me, but you looked, and you made me feel beautiful. I just never imagined that the man who I admired for his control and determination to keep me safe wouldn't have the courage to see past my age."

He opened the door and walked down the hallway. She was wrong about him. He struggled for control every day.

Ingrid's mom stepped out of the kitchen the moment his boots hit the living room, and he had the front door in sight. "Glen?"

He stopped. "Just checking on Ingrid. I'll be leaving now."

"Do you have a moment?" She motioned toward the door. "Can we speak outside in private?"

He dipped his chin, giving his cooperation, and followed her out of the house. Reeling from Ingrid's lecture, he only wanted to leave.

"Thank you for coming and checking in on Ingrid." Anna worked her hands in front of her in worry.

"Not a problem." Glen put a few sunflower shells in his mouth.

"I thought you could help me. I'm concerned about her." Anna separated her hands. "I'm trying to do whatever I can to make her feel comfortable, and she seems distracted. I'm afraid she'll return to Evan. Do you think she will?"

The sunflower shell cracked between his teeth at his surprise. "Has she...talked about contacting him?"

Anna shook her head. "She's so lost. Her appetite isn't the best. She paces. There are times she barely looks at me, and then at odd times she can't stop watching her dad and me, and she appears sad. It breaks my heart to see her still suffering. I don't know what to do."

"It's understandable that there's some adjusting to do. She's only had herself to count on for two years. Hell, even longer, including the time she was with Evan and hiding the fact he was hurting her. For her, that whole time she believed she was taking care of you and your husband by staying away. It was her love for you both that kept her going." He exhaled loudly. "As for the son of a bitch she ran from, she won't contact him. You don't have to worry about that."

"How can you be sure?" whispered Anna.

Because he knew Ingrid better than anyone in her life. She wouldn't throw away a second chance at a life with her family again. He swallowed the sunflower seeds and shells in one gulp. And, Ingrid had fallen in love with him.