“Ditto,” Rowdy said.
It didn’t surprise Cannon that Rowdy had kept an eye out. His streak of protectiveness ran bone deep. “I’m heading there now.”
“If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume everything is fine.”
“Yeah. And, Rowdy? Thanks.” Cannon put the phone away as he jogged around the hood of the truck and got in. He was less than ten minutes from the house, but the drive felt like an hour.
When he pulled into the driveway, everything looked secure, with enough light to guide a ship. Some of the apprehension let up, but he’d feel better once he saw Yvette.
Assuming she’d be in bed, he quietly opened the door and stepped in without a sound.
“Hey.”
His gaze zeroed in on her. Blue light from the muted television washed over her where she sat curled on the couch in a white camisole and striped cotton pajama pants, her hair braided over one shoulder.
“Hey.” He closed and locked the door. “I thought you were going to be in bed.”
One bare shoulder lifted. “If you’re not too tired, I thought maybe we could...” The words fell off and she looked away.
His c**k twitched in anticipation of what she’d say. “I’m not at all tired.” In fact, he was suddenly so wired he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Breath left her in a melancholy sigh. “This is...awkward for me.”
Making sure not to charge her, Cannon joined her on the couch. “It’s just me. No reason to feel awkward.” As he sat beside her the cushion dipped, rolling her hip nearer to him.
Trying for subtlety, he leaned closer to fill himself with her scent, a stirring combo of shampoo, lotion and Yvette—warm and sweet and so f**king sexy.
Her pajama pants were striped in candy colors, long and loose, almost covering her small feet where she had them tucked up next to her. But her camisole... Lord.
The white stretchy material hugged her br**sts and showed her ni**les as small shadows. Not touching her was impossible, but he steered his hands to her shoulders. “You’re okay?”
She nodded. “I mean, I am. But I’m not.”
He had no clue what she was saying, but he had to kiss her. Right now. He tried to resist, and lost. Leaning in, he touched his mouth to hers, barely there, relishing the moment—
Yvette slid her arms tight around his neck and pulled him closer.
An irresistible invitation.
Turning his head, he nudged her lips open, took her mouth with his tongue, and, God, she tasted good. He pressed her back into the couch, one hand curved around her nape, the other sliding down to the curve of her waist. The insubstantial cover of that soft camisole made it easy for him to get his hand underneath and onto softer skin.
He stroked upward, and Yvette pulled back. “Wow, I’m sorry.” Trembling, she sank into the corner of the couch...away from him. Eyes wide, her fingers touched her mouth.
“Yvette?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Cannon reined himself in. Discomfort took precedence over modesty, so, ignoring her stare, he adjusted himself in his jeans. With that done, he sat back, one arm along the top of the couch almost touching her. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
“That’s what I wanted to do. I mean, that’s why I waited up.”
So not for sex. Damn. “Armie told me what happened.”
“What? Oh, no.” Dismissing his assumption, she shook her head. “He told me he would. That’s not what I want to talk about.”
“It didn’t upset you?”
“I felt like an idiot for not realizing what kind of video store it was, and sure, once I did realize it made me uncomfortable. There were male customers in there and they stared at me. But I was about to leave when Armie showed up.”
Since he still sported wood, he wasn’t in the mood to tease her as Armie had done. “You watched your movie?”
Frowning, she said, “It’s not p**n .”
He smiled. “I know.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “I watched most of it. I heard you coming in, though, and turned off the sound.” Saying that, she picked up the remote, paused the movie and then turned off the set. “There’s something else I want to talk about.”
The sudden buzzing of his phone sounded obscenely loud. “Damn. Sorry.” Retrieving it from his pocket, he checked the caller ID. “It’s Mindi.” Before she could ask, he said, “The assistant who works with Whitaker.”
“I remember.” Twisting to see the clock on the wall, Yvette made note of the time and raised a brow.
Assuming her only reason for calling this late would be an invite, Cannon put a hand on Yvette’s thigh to keep her close and answered the call.
“I was just about to hang up,” she said. “Am I calling too late?”
“It’s okay. I meant to get hold of you anyway.”
“Do tell.”
Determined to keep it brief, he said, “We’re keeping both properties.”
“Both?”
“The house and the pawnshop. Appreciate that you were willing to help us, but tell your buyer we’re not interested.”
“But...” Mindi floundered before annoyance took over. “How is that even possible? Everything in the pawnshop is gone.”
“Yvette has inventory from her old job.” Cannon met Yvette’s killing glare with a wink. “And apparently Tipton has stuff he’d put away, too.”