Page 39 of Chasing Shelter (Sparrow Falls #5)

ELLIE

“If you order even one motion detector or laser beam, I will rearrange your entire closet and dresser. I will mismatch your socks and put your boxers in with your T-shirts,” I threatened as Trace pointed out to Anson a window he wanted better coverage for.

Arden stifled a laugh with a cough. “You know how to hit him where it hurts.”

Trace sent me a quelling look. “Nothing you or the demon dog can accidentally trip.”

Gremlin lifted his head from where he’d been snoozing on his dog bed as I narrowed my eyes. “Say no motion detectors or laser beams.”

He sighed and held up a hand in a Boy Scout salute. “I solemnly swear, no motion detectors or laser beams.”

“You know,” Linc began, “this would all be solved if you moved back into Cope’s house. Arden and I could stay there with you. It’s off the beaten path and has tight security.”

Linc and Arden currently lived in a guesthouse on Cope’s property while their new house was being built. And the hockey star had been kind enough to let me stay at his place while he and Sutton were up in Seattle as he worked to get back on the ice. But I knew Linc would hover if I went back there.

It was hard enough convincing him that this was likely Philip’s play at trying to scare me back to New York while leaving out my painful history with Bradley.

After everything he and Arden had been through recently, Linc didn’t need that on his shoulders.

And given that Arden was newly pregnant, she didn’t need the stress of worrying about me or being concerned that her fiancé might lose it.

“I agreed to some over-the-top security system. That’s enough. I’m not uprooting anyone,” I said.

Trace crossed the room, moving into my space. He slipped his hand under my hair and squeezed my neck. “Just a precaution, but it’ll make everyone feel better. This way, we know all our bases are covered.”

Gabriel and Dex had found exactly nothing last night. No evidence of a private investigator in the area. No signs of Jasper. No IP address to tell us where the texts had come from. Trace had even made a poor deputy sit in my driveway overnight, just in case.

I felt a little guilty that their presence had eased some of my worry. But I still slept with Mrs. Henderson’s trusty bat under my bed.

“Hey,” Linc bit out. “What’s with all the touching?”

Anson choked on a laugh. “Do we need to have the talk ?” He gestured to Arden. “Actually, since you knocked her up, maybe we do. When two people?—”

“Anson,” Arden barked. “I might be pregnant, but I still know twelve different ways to snap your neck, and I have a habit of carrying a switchblade.”

He just grinned. The smile was so wide it looked slightly deranged. “Arden in love. Threatening death and dismemberment to anyone who might harm her Lincy-poo.”

My brother scowled at the ex-profiler. “Did you just call me Lincy-poo?”

Anson shrugged. “It just felt right.”

Linc shook his head and turned back to Trace. “Please explain your hands being on my sister.”

Heat flared to life somewhere deep, and not just because Trace was touching me. “Oh no, you don’t, buddy. There is no alpha-male, big-brother overprotective nonsense happening. I touch who I touch, and that’s that.”

Linc blinked a few times. “Okay…I just…you two are…”

“Figuring it out.” It was the best answer I had for something I had no idea how to classify. Neighbors with benefits seemed a little ridiculous.

Trace moved, sliding an arm around my shoulders, his silent statement on the matter.

“Oh, come on,” Anson said, exasperated. “He called Dex for her. He called me . He’s bringing in Holt and Anchor Security. He took a day off work to be here, for God’s sake. He’s a goner.”

I stiffened. “Anson…you aren’t helping.”

He looked back and forth between us and flashed that creepy grin again. “Pleased as punch for you two.”

“Who are you, and what did you do with the guy who barely speaks two words most days?” Trace asked. “I think I liked him better.”

Anson just shrugged. “Your sister happened. Now, I’m into love and all that shit.”

Arden started laughing and leaned into Linc. “He’s like a feral matchmaker now or something.”

Linc kept looking back and forth between Trace and me as if trying to figure it all out.

“Well, this feral matchmaker has all the measurements he needs,” Anson said. “I’ll get these to Holt. He’s going to send a team down from Seattle and will try to come himself.”

“He doesn’t have to,” I started.

“He wants to.” Anson grinned. “He thinks Lolli’s a trip. He had her make a donut dick painting for his brother, Nash, for Christmas.”

“Jesus,” Trace muttered.

I fought a smile. “She’s getting a true following.”

“Someone save us,” Arden said, turning to pat Linc’s chest. “Come on, Cowboy. Take me to lunch. I’m hungry.”

“But we should stay and?—”

“ Cowboy ,” Arden warned. “Your sister needs a little time to process. And I need a cheeseburger and to dunk some fries in a milkshake.”

Linc’s expression changed then, going soft as if a memory were grabbing hold. He ducked his head to brush Arden’s lips with his, his hand going to her belly. “Gotta make sure my babies are taken care of.”

She smiled up at him and then jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Feed me, Cowboy.”

“Vicious to the bone,” Linc muttered, not letting her down. He glanced my way. “Call if you need anything.”

It was a command, not a question, but I still nodded. “I’m good, ConCon.”

“Call anyway,” he ordered.

I gave him a salute as he carried Arden out of the house. Anson just stood there, grinning, then gestured to the two of us. “This is good. I like it.”

Trace stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m telling Rho to put you on a tighter leash.”

“Never going to mind that,” Anson called as he headed for the front door.

Trace turned, his hands moving to my shoulders. “You okay?”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question. So much was flying around, but I was still standing. “I’m not, but I am. Does that make any sense?”

He brushed a strand of hair back from my face, his fingers lingering. “Completely. Strong as hell.”

It meant something that Trace saw me that way. And it meant even more that I could feel that strength building within me.

“You want lunch? Hang with Bumper? Something else? I’ve got three hours before Keely gets dropped off.”

I mulled over the options. Trace had already force-fed me a massive breakfast after dropping Keely at school. And as much as I loved Bumper, there was something else I wanted more. “Can we plant my butterfly pots and bulbs? ”

My supposedly happy afternoon had been ripped away yesterday, and I wanted to reclaim some of that.

Trace’s expression softened. “Let’s plant a garden.”

“I think we should map out where the bulbs go,” Trace began, studying the front garden beds like he was about to go to war. “We could measure them so they’re about eighteen inches apart and?—”

Laughter bubbled out of me; I couldn’t help it.

If I’d thought Trace was orderly in his home, it had nothing on how he attacked my quest for a butterfly garden—the methodical way he’d potted each plant, following the exact instructions Duncan had sent me home with.

He’d actually counted the handfuls of gravel he’d put at the bottom of each one.

Trace turned to me, frowning. “What?”

I slowly made my way to him, the sun beating down on my bare shoulders since I’d stripped down to a workout tank.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Chief. It’s a garden, not a military march.

It doesn’t have to be even or perfectly dispersed or anything else.

We can plant them where the spirit moves us. ”

He stared down at me for a moment. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Maybe a little.” But the truth was, he’d helped me find the magic I’d lost yesterday. And the fact that the sun was blazing, giving us what felt like a final dose of warmth before fully submerging us into fall, only made it better.

Trace’s lips twitched, making his scruff dance with the movement. “Just wait until you have patchy flower beds.”

“The horror,” I mocked.

That gorgeous mouth pulled into a grin. “I like you, Ellie Pierce.”

For the first time in months, I didn’t mind the sound of my last name, because it was coming from his lips. “I like you , Trace Colson.”

“I think I’ll even like your patchy flower beds,” he whispered, brushing his lips across mine .

“If they’re patchy, I’ll just fill them with more flowers come spring.”

“I have no doubt you’ll make it magic. Chaotic magic.”

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I dipped out of his hold, racing for the hose. I flipped on the water and aimed it at Trace without pressing the sprayer handle. “What were you saying about my patchy flower beds?”

He leveled me with a stare that would’ve had me taking a step back if I didn’t know the real Trace. “You wouldn’t.”

I arched a brow and pressed the trigger. Water flew at Trace, hitting him square in the chest. He let fly a series of curses that would’ve made a sailor blush, and I couldn’t have been prouder.

Trace ducked out of the stream and ran at me like a linebacker. I shrieked as he grabbed me around the waist and pulled the spray nozzle from my hand. A second later, water soaked me from head to toe.

I writhed against Trace, trying to get free. “There will be payback of epic proportions, Chief!”

“It’ll be worth it,” he yelled, dousing us both.

The water cut off, and Trace grinned at me. “Regretting your life choices?”

I gave him my best scowl, but it died when Trace kissed me. I didn’t feel an ounce of the cold as his tongue stroked in, all power and strength. I pressed myself against him, needing more contact, more of everything that was Trace.

A horn honked, and Trace pulled back, instantly on guard. But he eased when he saw it was just one of our neighbors. He ran a hand through his wet hair, his tee sticking to his chest. “I swear the Universe is determined to give me blue balls.”

I choked on a laugh but wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thanks for a magical day.”

Trace ghosted a thumb over the apple of my cheek. “My favorite kind of day.”

And then a new voice broke in. “Daddy, why are you all wet?”