wanted to pull the wool over his or their mother’s eyes. Clearly it wasn’t Kat or Tabby, and Devon knew it hadn’t been Heidi. His youngest sister wasn’t the spitfire Tabby and Kat were.
“Was Mom the culprit?”
“Uhm.” Sahara’s eyes darted to the right and then upward. “No.” She licked her lips, before her voice grew shrill. “I told you no. Why are you interrogating me? Isn’t that my brother’s job?”
“Doll.” He reached for her, but she leaned away. “Dammit, Sahara. What did she say that has your panties in a twist?” Devon knew the second he’d spoken he’d said the wrong thing.
Sahara’s eyes widened, her brows shot upward and she reached for the door handle. As she let herself out, he did the same. Eyes directed to the ground, she started to pace back and forth. Instinctively, Devon knew now wasn’t the time for words or to interfere with whatever she was attempting to work through in her mind. She stopped, inhaled a deep breath. He could sense her fighting to relax and take control. When she succeeded, she raised her gaze and narrowed it on him.
“Your mom seems to think there’s more to us than a summer fling.” She paused, eyeing him like he was an insect beneath a microscope. “She said something about your cabin being your sanctuary. You’re acting differently since you met me. And, she asked me not to hurt you.”
Well fuck .
Devon resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair. Instead, he tried to laugh away the tension crawling up his neck as he approached her. “Mom’s always hearing wedding bells.” Even though his mother did want to see him happy and settled down, his statement was absolutely untrue. One thing his mother had never done was interfere in his love life.
The girls—yes. His—no. She knew he had no plans of marriage.
Still, the truth remained. For his mother to pick up on the subtle differences Sahara had made in his life he had to be giving off some signals. Of course, his mother knew he wasn’t a stay-at-home kind of guy, but for some damn reason he didn’t want to share Sahara with anyone. This last week he’d done his best to keep her at the cabin and in his bed. Not only because making love to her was fucking hot, it felt natural to have her in his arms.
And his mother was right.
Devon’s house had been his decompression chamber, a place to unwind and get back in touch with himself. But things had changed. Sahara’s presence never made him feel crowded. She was amazing, always knowing when he needed quiet time, like when he would sit on the swing with a beer in hand and stare into the dark. Either she would leave him be or she would join him. Without speaking, they would swing and listen to the sounds of nature move around them. Last night she had been excited when a deer approached the porch.
And then there was his other pleasure—food.
Eating out was second nature to him, but recently he and Sahara had been cooking together. Afterward, cleaning the dishes had turned into playtime. What kitchen utensils could be used for sexual pleasure? A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he thought of how sexy she had looked spread out on the kitchen table. He froze.
Well. Son-of-a-bitch . In a blink of an eye he had been domesticated.
A foolish grin crept across his face, but when he raised his gaze to meet hers, concern burned in her depths. He wanted to pull her to him, kiss the frown from her lips, and then take her home. The fact was he enjoyed having Sahara around. They were good together.
Again, her backbone grew rigid. “This is funny to you?” Her frown deepened.
Devon took a step forward and she countered it with one backward. “No. I don’t think it’s funny.” Another couple of steps and she did her best to keep him at arms-length, until her back struck the truck and she couldn’t go any further. “But I’m also not letting something my mom said get me riled up.” He placed a hand on each side of