The man actually had some balls left. But he used them in all the wrong ways.
“I’m not giving you a dime,” Evan said, his voice terrifyingly soft. “But I am going to keep my eye on you. Someone will always be watching you, Greg. When you wake. When you sleep. When you go out. When you come home. Who you talk to. Who you piss off. If you make a move on her, I’ll know.” He paused to make sure the guy didn’t miss a word. “And I’ll grind you into pulp.”
Greg swallowed, his Adam’s apple struggling to get the spit down. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. “You don’t scare me.” Even though Evan thought the guy might pee his pants in another second.
“Here’s the truth, Greg,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You aren’t worth scaring. But I will protect my family any way I have to. I don’t give a crap if you drink yourself to death, but you’re not going to take her down with you.”
Greg’s mouth opened, sucking in air. “I just need a little cash, that’s all.”
“Then get a job. Now repeat after me: I will leave Theresa alone.”
Greg’s voice rose to a whine. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“All that matters is you did hurt her.” He cupped his ear and leaned closer. “I don’t hear you repeating those five important words yet.”
The beads of nervous sweat on Greg’s forehead suddenly let loose, cascading down his face until one hung on the end of his nose. “I’ll leave Theresa alone.”
“Don’t forget, I’ve got my eye on you.” Evan picked up a half-full bottle of beer from the coffee table, two empties beside it. The rest of the six-pack was on the carpet by the sofa. “Maybe you oughta think about throwing the rest of these out. The beer is rotting your brain.” Then he shoved it into the asshole’s hand.
Evan left him in the living room, clutching the beer bottle to his chest as if it were an elixir to ward off evil.
* * *
Back in his Tesla, Evan contacted an acquaintance high up in the ranks of the San Francisco Police Department. With his help, it didn’t take long to arrange for a Modesto patrol car to drive by Theresa’s house occasionally. If there was any trouble, Evan would get an immediate call.
Once he hit the Bay Area again, the traffic stopped and started, but the Tesla zipped through every small break, easing ahead faster than the rest of the cars. And somehow, instead of ending up at home, he found himself outside Paige’s condo.
Walking beneath an overhang of trees to her first-floor unit, he took in the little brook that babbled over river rocks. Ivy spread its fingers across the ground, and ferns sprouted. It was pleasant, calm, restful. While his house was a showplace, Paige’s home was comforting. It showcased, yet again, the differences between the two sisters—ostentatious versus homey, gaudy versus warmhearted.
Climbing the wooden stairs to her front porch, he pushed the bell, the tinkling sound of it ringing through the interior. She opened the door, looking both beautiful and surprised to see him.
He didn’t want to desire her. He didn’t want to need her.
But, God help him, he did.
Chapter Seventeen
“Paige.” Evan’s voice was deep. Warm. Hearing him say her name with such feeling was nearly as good as his lips on hers. “I hope it’s okay I didn’t call first.”
Between the flowers and this unexpected visit, Paige couldn’t suppress her smile. Or the quickening of her breath, awareness tingling on her skin. No matter how tense things had been when she’d left his place on Sunday. “Of course it’s okay. Come inside.”
Her home was so small that the intimacy of having Evan in her living room was overwhelming. Yet she’d felt such a thrill the moment she found him standing at her door.
Paige truly believed there was nothing wrong with what she felt for him. Nothing sinful. Not when Whitney had thrown away her claim to Evan with the first lie she’d told—and all the lies after that. If only he’d see things the same way. Paige hoped he would one day soon. Maybe even tonight?
“Have you eaten?” There was so much they needed to talk about, but she wanted to give him a few minutes to settle in first. Especially after his long drive to and from Modesto. “I’m planning a stir fry.”
“Actually—” With his hands shoved in his pockets, she could almost believe he was nervous. “—I’d like to take you out.”
“Out?” Would this be a date? Or was she mistakenly attaching the label she wanted to what was, for him, nothing more than an impromptu dinner invitation?
He swallowed, gestured off toward the main drag of Menlo Park. “There’s a great place just around the corner. The Grand Pacific. I know how much you love Pan-Asian food.”
“I’ve always wanted to eat there.” The Grand Pacific’s menu wasn’t just legendary, its prices were too. What’s more, Whitney hated Chinese food, so they’d never been there as a group.
Yet again, Paige was amazed to realize he’d actually been paying attention to her all these years. To the flowers she preferred. To her favorite kind of food. And to the fact that she loved to try new places and things.
What else had he noticed?
“I’d love to. Just let me grab a sweater.”
They could have driven. It was still early for dinner, and there were a few parking spots available as they approached downtown. But she enjoyed the walk, her shoulder brushing his occasionally, the backs of their hands bumping, his clean, masculine scent teasing her. The restaurant was full, but for Evan, an empty table magically appeared. A romantic spot in a candlelit corner.