The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(51)

“You aren’t dreaming. And I’m not going anywhere. Baxter’s inside now, and I have a feeling he’s not gonna want to sleep outside again anytime soon. You’re good, sweetheart.”

“The past always has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it,” she muttered.

Chappy held his breath, hoping she was on the verge of opening up to him.

But instead, she sighed. “I’m being morose. I’m good,” she said. “I’m not usually so emotional.”

He mentally echoed her sigh. She was right there. Whatever was bothering her was on the tip of her tongue. He would’ve pushed, but since Baxter coming inside was a happy, momentous thing, he didn’t want to bring the mood down. “You can be as emotional as you want. I can handle it. I can handle anything you want to tell me. You’re safe with me. Period.”

She smiled and brought a hand up to his cheek. “I know.”

“Do you?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She nodded immediately.

“Good. Because it’s true. Are you really okay with staying up here with me for another week or so until we can get your car out?”

“Are you all right with me being here? You’ve told me you like your solitude, and your friend confirmed it. I really don’t want to intrude.”

Chappy mentally swore. She’d obviously taken Bob’s words to heart. “You aren’t intruding. While I do like my solitude, I’ve also been lonely. Since you’ve been here, I haven’t felt that way in the least.”

“Me either.”

“Good. It’s settled. You can stay as long as you want. How about we get Baxter comfortable and decide what we want to make for lunch? I’m starving.”

She chuckled. “You and JJ both.”

“Yup. You haven’t seen that guy eat, though. He would’ve eaten us out of house and home.”

Carlise giggled, and the sound wrapped around his heart and wouldn’t let go. He hadn’t lied, he could handle her being emotional, but he much preferred her laughter to her tears. Even if they were happy ones.

Later, with Baxter snuggled into a mound of blankets in front of the fireplace, his belly full, Chappy sat on the couch with his arm around Carlise. She’d snuggled into him and opened a paperback book from his shelf. They’d been reading like that, cuddled up together under another fluffy blanket, for at least an hour.

It was taking all of Chappy’s self-control not to rip the book out of her hands and throw her down on the cushions to have his wicked way with her. But Bob had been right—he needed to tell her about the cameras.

“I have to tell you something,” Chappy blurted.

She closed her book and looked up at him. “It sounds serious,” she said, her brow furrowed.

“It’s not. I mean, I don’t think it’s a big deal . . . but you might.”

“What is it?”

“I have cameras,” he said bluntly. “For protection.”

Carlise nodded. “That’s probably smart. This cabin isn’t exactly on the beaten path, and if someone wanted to break in, it’s not as if any neighbors would see and call the police.”

“Exactly. There’s nothing here that I’d care too much about if it was stolen. When I’m not here, I don’t leave any firearms or anything else that could be used to hurt someone else. But I don’t like the thought of someone in my space. This cabin is a refuge for me, and if someone were to break in, I would want to know about it.”

“I can understand that.”

“The thing is . . . the cameras aren’t just outside. They’re in here too.” Chappy held his breath as he waited for Carlise to freak out. He could see her processing what he’d just said.

She bit her lip.

“They aren’t connected to any service or anything, just an app on my phone. I’m the only one who can access them. I’ve set up a ton of security protocols, so the likelihood of someone hacking in and watching the footage is slim to none. The app holds recordings for thirty days before they’re deleted.” He was speaking fast, but he wanted her to know that he wasn’t hoarding hundreds of hours of videos or anything.

“Bob said I needed to tell you. That I’d be a dick if I didn’t. So I’m letting you know.”

She lifted her chin at that. “You aren’t a dick,” she said.

Chappy huffed out a breath. “That’s all you have to say?” he asked. “I tell you that your every move for the last week, except when you were in the bathroom, is on video and you’re more concerned about my friend calling me names?”

“Well . . . first, I’m not that surprised about the cameras. You did tell me that you’re protective. I assumed that meant protective about your stuff as well as your friends. If I’m completely honest, I’m not thrilled about being on film. But I trust you, Riggs. If you say that no one will see it but you, I believe you.”

Chappy could only stare at her for a long moment. How the hell had he gotten so lucky?

“Where are they?” she asked, looking around the room.

“One’s there,” he said, pointing to the corner across from them. “And the other’s in the corner of the kitchen, pointing into the room.”

She turned to meet his gaze once more. “Did you watch the ones from when you were sick?”