Page 27 of Knotted their Beauty

It looks like I’m going to be in San Clemente longer than I thought, and I’d wager the headache Butler’s text message brought on is going to last the entire fucking time.

One that starts to pound against my temples as I realize I need to talk to Arlo about an extended stay.

I’m all out of sorts after the gorgeous blonde alpha not only hit on my nanny at the show, but slipped him his number before we left the beach. Something is telling me I need to get my shit together, sooner rather than later. If I don’t, there’s a good chance I’ll not only lose my nanny, but I’ll blow the opportunity for him to become something more.

Something I’ve been fighting but suddenly don’t have the energy to battle.

Arlo has become far more important to me than I’m willing to admit, but that has to change. It has to change now, because this ache in my chest is starting to trump the pulsing in my head, and that has nothing to do with my workload.

It seems I’m about to complicate my life on purpose, despite how terrible that idea may be.

Too bad I’m a firm believer in the idea that regret would be so much worse.

Chapter

Eight

LENNOX

My hands dig into my pockets as I watch three very happy people play in the ocean. They seem to exist in their own little bubble, and I’m really happy to be seeing them again.

The little girl’s dad seems grumpy. I don’t think he likes me, but that’s to be expected since I’m a stranger, and one who tagged his car once he drove in. I made sure to use a tracking device that won’t sync to his phone. I don’t want him to find the little present I placed underneath his car. He said he was here on business and the steely glint in his eyes tells me he may be some kind of cop.

He stares at me as if he doesn’t know whether he wants to bend me over to fuck me or hit me, and I kind of like it.

Either way, I’m intrigued. I dabble in stalking and surveillance on occasion for my uncle when he has someone who doesn’t pay their debts and needs to teach them a lesson. I’m a big guy but people tend to ignore me if I dress like a hobo.

The performances for children are how he tells my mother he pays his bills and also his penance for running several fighting rings in California. No one wants to piss my mother off, and she made us all agree to travel on the straight and narrow once my father died. The beta was a mean fucker, and we all suspect she killed him with her own special blend of drugs once she got sick of him. We are scared shitless of her.

My asshole puckers whenever she serves me food at family dinners when I make it home, and I have to run through all of my recent sins to ask myself if I deserve to be poisoned or not.

God love her, but she’s scary.

My uncle’s business is such a simple cover, yet it’s oddly effective. The cops think nothing of his group of singers as they perform for children, refusing to believe anyone who might complain about a few broken bones for trying to skip out on my uncle for their debts.

Yeah, I know the face of someone who works in law enforcement well, and need to do a little research on who he is. I’ve heard Arlo call the man Mr. March several times. It shouldn’t take me long to find him.

Mr. March told me more than he thought he did with his hooded eyes and his cruel smirk. I just watched him toss Arlo into the ocean while playing monsters with his kiddo, I can tell there’s a softer side to him he hides from others.

“Come on, Rufus,” I call out. He’s sitting at the edge of the waves, watching Arlo and Calista, almost as if he’s guarding them. “They have a big, strong daddy to watch over them. I don’t think they need you to save them, sweetheart.”

Arlo turns and catches my eye, blushing as he hears what I said. His curls are wet and he shakes them out of his eyes. Damn. His lips are fucking kissable.

The clearing of a throat has me glancing at his boss and I wink at him before clicking my tongue for Rufus to follow me.

“It’s time to go to work, Rufus. Let’s go!”

“Calista, time’s up.”

“Aw. Okay, Daddy. Arlo, can we have grilled cheese and macaroni for dinner?” she asks.

“You’ll need to order in,” Mr. March says, beginning to herd Calista out of the water. He’s waiting at the shore with a huge towel, and the gesture makes me smile. “I know you’re a little homebody and like your things, sweetheart. You’ll have to be flexible for another day at least.”

“I like you too!” Her screech as he bundles her up and swings her into his arms makes me hide my chuckle as I toss a ball to Rufus to distract both of us. I’m willing to do anything to get us moving in the right direction.

“I need to use one of those apps to order food, right, Mr. March?” Arlo asks worriedly.

I blink slowly at his question, struck by how young he sounds.