Page 97 of Protecting Love

There was a door shutting. She heard it. She was positive her sister did too.

Fletcher closing the bathroom door.

He would have heard them talking by now and was staying in her room. But that door wasn’t shut.

And her sister didn’t hesitate to turn and walk those few steps into her bedroom.

“I can explain.”

London was laughing. Paris was right on her sister’s heels as Fletcher was putting his gun holster back on his shoulder, not smiling. Not doing much more than getting dressed like he was starting his day rather than having just screwed her brains out.

Considering the hot guy in front of her was still barefoot and his hair was wet, it was obvious what was going on.

“What? Is his shower broken?” London asked.

“Very funny,” she said. “Come out here and I’ll explain.”

“No need to. I get it. I can see. I wish I saw before, and now I feel bad I wasn’t paying as much attention.” London was almost bouncing in place and waving her hand. “How long has this been going on? My sister isn’t floating enough for me to think she finally got a piece of ass after so long today? I mean, for the first time.”

“Go to your room and change,” Paris hissed.

London only laughed harder. “Oh, this is better than Netflix.”

Fletcher, fully dressed now, stepped past them like he hadn’t just been caught dressing in her bedroom. Calm. Collected. Infuriatingly unbothered and almost prepared to watch a show. Damn him. He could rein it in better than her.

“London,” he said evenly, giving her a polite nod. “Good to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t,” London said, her eyes sparkling, the giddiness coming through. Her sister’s voice was rising, her excitement almost too much to contain over Paris being caught sneaking around. “I leave town for one weekend and come home to this.”

She grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her a few feet. “Lower your voice.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

London leaned against the counter in the kitchen, grinning like she’d just uncovered buried treasure her sister had kept hidden for years. “How long has this been going on?”

She focused hard on drying scallops that didn’t need that much attention. Didn’t seem as if Fletcher was going to help her out either.

“It’s new.”

“How new?”

“Recent,” she said.

“Paris,” London pressed.

She sighed and glanced over her shoulder.

Fletcher had taken a seat at the kitchen island like he belonged there. His elbows rested casually on the counter watching them with that steady, unreadable expression. If he was uncomfortable, he hid it well.

Which somehow made this worse!

Like he was waiting to hear her explanation before he contributed.

Not fair!

“We’re… dating,” she said, keeping her voice level. Keeping it calm. Cool. Restrained. Just like the guy staring at her. “It’s not a big deal.”