Page 55 of Cautious Love

“Maybe you should ask your mom.”

“You’ll never be my daddy,” Luke says dramatically.

“Guys,” I sigh. I swear it’s like I’m at home and Fletcher and Cooper are about to choke each other out.

Will clears his throat. “Let’s say we found a body, then what? Do we have the time or the funding it would take to get the evidence we need? And would it bring us back to Kensington at all?” he asks.

“I don’t know, and none of us will if we don’t try,” I grunt.

“I still think turning Kate is our best bet because there’s no way her brother will talk,” Will says.

“I have to agree with him,” Luke says, leaning back in his chair.

“Fine, while you two work that angle, I’ll find a body,” I tell them, frustrated, but they’re right.

“I think it’s a waste of time at the moment. Going after Kate is the workable angle,” Will says.

“I’ll think about it,” I mumble, even though they’re entirely right. I don’t have much time to waste, and searching for a body that might be scattered across thousands of acres isn’t fast enough, even if that person deserves to be found.

Will and Luke sit there, and I stare at them. “What are you two buffoons doing? Get back to work,” I command and wave my hand, telling them to get the hell out.

Will closes the door behind him, and I spin around in my seat facing the wall.

Kensington has been getting away with murder for a long time. I’m convinced he’s bound to mess up or already has. I just have to find it and make sure Shiloh is protected on all fronts.

By the time I get home Shiloh isn’t here, but a few hours later she rolls in like the tornado she is and waves to me as she beeline’sto her room, and I can’t help myself as I stare at her ass in those jeans. She must have had an early shift at the Wooden Cowboy.

I shouldn’t be looking at my wife’s ass, let alone imagining her sassy mouth in places it shouldn’t be. She annoy’s the hell out of me, but I like her, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist the pull she has on me.

I’ve even dreamt about her lips on mine — I’m pathetic.

Music plays in her room with the volume too high.

Giving up on my book, I decide to grab my clean clothes from the dryer and get them folded up. I don’t like to leave them sitting, and now that Shiloh is here, I don’t want her to have to wait if she needs the machines.

I lean into the front loader, tossing the load into my basket and drop it, heading straight for Shiloh’s door as a headache starts to bloom.

“Shiloh!” I yell, and beat on her door.

She doesn’t answer. Probably because her music is too loud.

“Shiloh! Get out here right now!”

The music stops, and the door flies open, making her hair blow back with the motion. She stares at me with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“What? What’s wrong?”

I’m doing my very best to rein in my voice, but I’m about to lose it. I can be very patient, but my patience is running thin. “Do you know how to do laundry?”

She frowns. “Um, yes, what’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Follow me,” I grumble starting back to the laundry room.

“Why?”

I stop leaning my head back, asking God for strength, and a lot more patience for this hurricane of a woman.

“Just come here,” I grunt and wait next to the dryer while she catches up.