“I think so.” But either way, he’d make himself at home here so that Yvette couldn’t easily boot him out.
With forced indifference, Armie said, “I thought your little sister turned the downstairs into a separate area for her roomie.”
Since Armie had helped him expand the outdated bath for that very reason, he already knew the answer. Was he interested in the roommate? Cannon had met her on a few occasions, each brief, so all he really remembered was medium blond hair, dark eyes and a cute bod.
Yeah, Armie was probably interested.
But that’d put him too close to Merissa, and Cannon didn’t like that idea, so he issued another warning, this one more direct. “I don’t want you messing around with the roommate.”
Armie snorted. “Don’t sweat it. She’s not my type.”
“What type is that?”
“Same as your sister—a nice girl.”
Cannon laughed at how Armie inferred being “nice” made a female unacceptable. In the case of his sister, he was glad. It’d be way too uncomfortable to think about Armie, with his over-the-top sexuality, anywhere near his little sis. “Rissy’s got her own life going on and I see no reason to move in on her.” He took a breath and admitted, “I’m staying with Yvette.”
Silence—and then, “That was fast.”
“Again, not the way you’re thinking.”
“Damn, man, I’m thinking she’s hot, you’re male and you’re arranging a lot of alone time with her. Don’t tell me it’s so you can hold her hand and watch old movies, because I just might puke.”
“It’s complicated, that’s all.” Cannon took a minute to explain the situation to Armie.
“Fuck,” Armie said with feeling. “I thought she was the girl, but I wasn’t sure. Must be rough for her.”
“Not as much as you’d think.” Or else Yvette did a great job hiding it. “Anyway, I plan to stay with her until the place sells—or until I’m sure she’s comfortable being alone.”
“Uh-huh.”
At that mocking tone, Cannon’s shoulders tightened. “What?”
“You’re all noble and shit, I don’t doubt it. That’s just you. But you’re also looking to get boned in the bargain, so just admit it.”
If it was any woman other than Yvette, Cannon might have just agreed and let it go. But with Yvette, the protectiveness smothering him was far too powerful for him to joke about it with anyone, even his best friend. “Armie—”
“Give it a rest, buddy. I know what I know. After seeing her, I’d think it was weird if you didn’t. But don’t sweat it. I’ll be all circumspect and shit whenever I’m around her.”
Defensive as well as protective, he warned, “I don’t want her hassled. By anyone.”
“Noted.” Armie moved right on past the topic, saving Cannon from more awkwardness. “How about you order in a pizza and I’ll come by after work on Friday? That soon enough for you?”
“Yeah, sure.” To be fair, he added, “Thanks. I owe you.”
Armie snorted over that. “Maybe someday I’ll collect. See you later.”
After putting his phone back in his pocket, Cannon checked the time. Almost nine o’clock.
Where the hell was she?
He was not a man who got keyed up. In the SBC he was known for his cool head and meticulous manner. But now, dealing with Yvette, his impatience rivaled a swelling tide. He needed to expend energy somehow, either by taking off on his own jog, hitting something...or maybe indulging in a long, hot shower.
He didn’t want to be gone when she returned, and he hadn’t yet installed a heavy bag, so the shower won out.
Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to be clean, shaved and dressed before she returned. Driven by thoughts of what he’d do and say to her, Cannon left the hall bathroom door open and kept his ears cocked as he let the warm water relieve some of his residual aches and pains from the last fight.
He’d just stepped out when the landline rang. Hastily wrapping a towel around his hips, he followed the sound and located the old-fashioned, curly corded phone on the wall in the kitchen. Huh. Skeptical that it’d really work, he picked it up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Cannon? Oh, good. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”
The female voice sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure—
“It’s Mindi, from Frank’s office.”
“Frank?”
“Mr. Whitaker.”
Biting back the groan, Cannon dropped against the wall and forced some pleasantness into his greeting. “Morning, Mindi. How are you?”
“Working, so don’t get all worried that I’m calling in my rain check.”
Appreciating her humor, he smiled with her. “Sorry. I’m just slammed, that’s all.”
“You poor thing, having so much dumped on you. How is Tipton’s granddaughter?”
Cannon frowned. “We’re fine.”
“Working through everything?”
He pushed away from the wall. “Did Whitaker ask you to call?”
Her laugh was meant to be teasing, but instead it annoyed him. “No, but I’m hoping I can be helpful. I’ve found someone who wants to buy the pawnshop.”
A disturbing mix of regret and resolution glued Cannon to the spot. Through the restriction in his chest, he said, “Come again?”