Over the Fence (19 page)

Waking up with Kourtney still curled into me felt like the most natural thing in the world. I grazed her cheek with my finger, smiling when she opened her eyes. She blinked and seemed a bit shocked, but her eyes were still stunning in the pale morning light.

Leaning forward, I kissed her cheek. “Hey, Chefgirl.”

A small, shy grin appeared as she stretched, and it was then I realized how entangled we were under the covers. Lifting the blanket, I looked down at our entwined legs. “Guess I don’t have to ask how you slept.” I waggled my eyebrows. “I think last night was good for you. You can’t stop yourself from touching me.”

She stared at me for a second, then began laughing. I chuckled at her reaction, enjoying the sight before me. Her dark hair was a mass of tangles around her face, her cheeks a warm shade of pink from her amusement and her glorious eyes shone—the pools of color lit with mirth.

“You never stop, do you?” She gasped between guffaws.

Shaking my head, I rolled her under me, leaning on my elbows, and stared down at her. Her laughter stopped as she met my gaze. “I’ll never stop if I can see this breathtaking vision when I’m being entertaining.”

Her brow furrowed. “Vision?”

I traced my finger under her eye. “I knew you’d be beautiful when you laughed. But I didn’t know how beautiful. Your soul shines in your eyes, Kourtney. They draw me in.”

The color on her cheeks deepened. “Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m not nobody—remember?” I dropped a kiss on her full lips, wishing I could really kiss her, but knowing she wasn’t ready.

“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed.

“You don’t have to say anything. We’ll talk tonight and this weekend.” I paused, then asked, “If you want to?” I studied her face, noticing she still looked tired and her eyes were anxious. “Am I overwhelming you?” I swallowed hard; worried I had pushed too hard last night. “Is this too much for you right now?”

“It’s just . . .”

“Tell me.”

“It’s unexpected.”

“I was hoping for a cup of coffee with you last night. It’s a little unexpected for me too, but I’m certainly not complaining about waking up with you.”

Her answering smile was shaky.

“Tell me—what are you thinking behind those gorgeous eyes?”

“You seem so sure of this.”

“I am.” I frowned down at her. “You’re not?”

“It’s a little frightening for me.”

I drew my knuckles down her cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Kourtney. I promise.”

“I don’t know how to react to some of the things you say, Nathan. I’ve never had anyone say them before. Or treat me the way you do.”

“Do you like it?”

She inhaled in a deep breath. “Yes.”

“But you’re still scared? Why?”

“Because I worry how I’ll feel when it stops.”

I frowned at the word “when.”

“It’s not going to stop. I meant what I said last night. I want us to be together, as long as you want it, too.”

“I do.”

“Good.” I kissed her, my lips nuzzling hers, loving how right they felt on mine. “We’ll figure it out, together, yes?”

“Yes.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Run time?”

“You don’t have to go with me. I’ll be fine.”

I sat up, pulling her with me. “You aren’t going anywhere alone. Understand? It’s with me or a treadmill at the gym in my building. With me right beside you. Your choice.”

“Guess I’m stuck with you?”

I kissed her again. “Yep. Cell phone, remember?”

“Okay then, Samsung. Let’s get at it.”

An hour later I was grateful to see the houses come back into view. “Do you run this far every morning, Chefgirl?” I gasped, collapsing at the table with a glass of water.

“Usually. I didn’t go as fast today as I normally do.”

I paused in between sips. “You went at a pretty good pace.”

“I can do faster.” She got up, wrinkling her nose. “I’m going to go have a shower and get ready for work.”

I frowned. “Okay.”

“What?”

“I need to shower as well, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Nathan.” She sighed; her voice patient. “Andy hasn’t seen this side of ten a.m. since we were teenagers. He would never think to show up here this early. He doesn’t even go into work before eleven. It’s perfectly safe for you to go home and have a shower.”

“What does he do that allows him to go in so late?”

“He’s a mechanic. He owns his own shop. I think he goes in late every day.”

“Good business man. So responsible.” I snorted. “Although, it explains how he can afford to deck his dumbass truck like that.”

“You have a hate on for it, don’t you?” She grimaced a little, wrinkling her nose. “It is rather hideous—and noisy. I never understood why he liked it so much.”

I stood up and stretched. “He likes the attention, and it makes him feel better about his, ah, shortcomings.”

Her brow furrowed. “Shortcomings?”

I nodded, keeping my expression serious. “Guys who drive souped-up vehicles like his are often trying to compensate for having, um,” I hesitated.

“Having what?”

“Small dicks.” I shrugged.

Kourtney stared at me wide-eyed. Peals of laughter bounced off the walls as she sat down, her hand clamping over her mouth to stifle the snorts as she shook with amusement.

I beamed; pleased I could make her laugh again.

“Only saying, Chefgirl. He needs to try and impress a woman with his truck, because once he gets her into bed, she ain’t gonna be too impressed with what he’s got going on under
his
hood.”

“Stop it!” She gasped, between guffaws. “I don’t like him, but he’s still my brother and . . . ewww!”

“That’s what they say once they get a load of what’s waiting for them—or not waiting I should say. Ewww.”

Her eyes were bright from the tears of her laughter, the sight of her amusement, making my chest warm.

Unable to resist, I crouched in front of her. “I drive a sleek, discreet, but rather sexy looking Acura.” I grinned. “
Turbo.
I promise, Kourtney with a K, you won’t be saying . . . ewww.”

Her eyes grew large, her mouth forming a small O.

Snickering, I kissed her nose and stood back up. “I’m going next door to have a shower. I’ll be at the end of the driveway in thirty minutes. Don’t leave the house until I’m there. And keep your cell phone with you. Call me if anything makes you nervous. Anything. I’ll be right over. Okay?”

“You’re being over protective.”

“I disagree. Lock up behind me.”

I had gotten to the fence when I heard Kourtney’s teasing voice behind me.

“Nat?”

I turned to look at her.

“What if you were in the shower when I called?” She grinned at me, her face lit with mischief.

I smirked over my shoulder as I continued to climb the ladder, loving her teasing. “I guess you’d be seeing my fine naked ass a lot sooner than I even hoped, Chefgirl.” I winked before I dropped down to the other side, enjoying her giggles. “Feel free to test out the theory, though—I’m happy to oblige!” I called then I went inside.

She was still giggling as I shut the door behind me.

We pulled up in front of her building after checking in at the front gate. It pleased me to know there was an extra layer of security at the building.

I put the car in park and turned in my seat. “Kourtney,” I began, pulling an envelope from above the visor.

“What?” She looked at the envelope, frowning. “What is that?”

“A picture of your brother.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I used Facebook and found him. His settings are ridiculously low, and it was easy to snag one of his many selfies, send it to my printer and grab it this morning.”

“Why?”

I drew in a deep breath. “I want you to let me give it to security and make sure they know he isn’t allowed in the building.”

She stared at me, then at the envelope. “He wouldn’t show up.”

“You didn’t think he’d show up at your house, either,” I argued. “Please let me do this—your safety is important.”

She didn’t say anything, but her fingers gripped and pulled on the edge of her coat.

“You can take it to them if you want. Or give me their email and I’ll handle it.” I wrapped my hand around hers to stop the nervous fidgeting. “For me, please.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But, I don’t want to call attention to myself.”

“You want me to handle it?”

For a moment she didn’t move, then nodded.

I breathed a sigh of relief she was letting me help. “Okay. I will. Jason Benson, right—he’s the head of your security?”

“Should I ask how you know that?”

I gave her a soft smile, and ran my fingers down her cheek. “I’m smart, Chefgirl. I’ll take care of this, okay?”

“Okay.”

Later that morning, my phone alerted me to a new text.

Nathan—Jason came to see me. He got your email and wanted to talk to me. The front gate now has the picture you attached.

Good. I’m glad he took it seriously.

I still think you’re overreacting and being far too protective.

I disagree. It would seem he feels the same way.

He showed me the letter. It mentions a possible restraining order. Anything else I should know?

I grimaced. I hadn’t counted on him showing her the letter. I thought I could ease into the restraining order part over the weekend.

I think you should consider one. To keep him away from you. To keep you safe.

As I waited for her—no doubt—unhappy reply, I mulled over the email I had sent Grant last night, explaining the situation and asking his advice. He had replied, agreeing I should keep an eye on her. He also suggested she consider a restraining order; especially after viewing the pictures I attached of the bruises on her arms. He had other suggestions, but I decided to hold off discussing those with her quite yet. She wasn’t ready to confide in me—I doubted me suggesting some sort of counseling would go over well.

I knew I was going overboard, but I had been reckless once in my life and it cost me everything I loved. I wasn’t taking that chance again. I realized telling Mr. Benson about a possible restraining order might have been overstepping, but I didn’t regret it.

Meanwhile, there was no reply from Kourtney, so I sent her another text.

I know you’re angry with me. But I can’t let him near you again. I have to do everything I can to keep him away from you—to keep you safe. I won’t let him have the chance to hurt you again. I can’t even stand the thought of that happening.

Silence. I tried calling her, but it went right to voicemail. I knew she must be furious I had invaded her privacy. I waited a few minutes, and I texted her again.

I get it—you’re angry. Promise me you won’t leave before I come get you. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t make me worry all day that you’ll leave without me. Stay where I know you’re safe.

I waited, and finally got a reply.

I won’t leave.

I sighed in relief.

Good. I won’t apologize for trying to keep you safe. But you can yell at me tonight. I’ll take it.

There was no response.