Chaos & the Geek (Grace Grayson Security Book 1)

by Elizabeth Stevens

  “Amber…” he started and I actually jumped in surprise.

  “Yeah?” I squeaked, cleared my throat and tried again. “Yep?”

  “I just want you to know that you are welcome here. I’m happy to have you here. You’re not getting in my way and you can just be yourself.”

  I nodded, having no idea what that tone of voice was supposed to be. It wasn’t quite the tone you use on frightened animals, but it was close. Imagine trying to get a wary dog to trust you but finding it amusing at the same time. That was what Kit’s voice sounded like.

  “Thanks. I’m–”

  I spluttered as I moved the damn milk jug the wrong way and it spat hot milk all over me. And of course, I dropped the jug on the floor for good measure, throwing hot milk all down my jeans’ leg. I stood in the middle of the floor, refusing to look at him while I took a deep breath. Out of pure instinct, I held up a hand to let him know that comments were not welcome. That move wouldn’t have stopped Patrick.

  “Paper towel?” I asked slowly.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Tea towel?” I tried.

  “Oh, right. Here.”

  I turned to see whether my peripheral vision had actually been playing tricks on me. But no. Kit had just slid himself effortlessly over the top of the kitchen counter, dropped to a crouch, and was now getting a tea towel out of one of the drawers.

  When he stood, we were standing very close together and I took the tea towel he proffered with one hand while I pushed on my glasses with the other – stop that! Our fingers brushed and my heart fluttered wildly. It wasn’t just nervousness, it was more. It was electrifying. My years of reading trashy romance novels gave me plenty of fodder for my imagination, but I could not think of Kit like that.

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

  When he said nothing, my eyes darted up and I saw the humour in his and the smirk that played at his lips. We were both still holding onto the tea towel, our knuckles touching through the flimsy material. My heart floundered hard in my chest as we looked at each other and I imagined a moment – half a moment – where he wasn’t my brother’s best friend and I could just openly ogle him to my heart’s content. And for even less of a moment, I let myself imagine the look in his eyes meant he felt the same way.

  But my eyes fell as they usually did whenever I actually looked at him and I was partially distracted as they came to a rest on the tattoo on his pec. It was a sword surrounded by stars and…maybe like rays of light?

  “Our unit…got them together when our first commander died,” Kit said, his voice heavy.

  My eyes flicked up for a moment, then got a stark reminder of why we don’t look at him full on and they dropped again. They fell on his right rib and I felt myself smile.

  “How fitting,” I muttered.

  “What?” he asked.

  I couldn’t have stopped my fingers trailing over the Latin words if I’d wanted to. “‘By the grace of chaos’,” I translated softly and this time when I looked up his eyes were soft and I felt like he was answering my unbidden smile.

  Warmth rose up in my chest as we just stood looking at each other. My heart beat a little faster and a whole slew of unlikely futures rushed through my mind unbidden. God, he was attractive and that slightly cocky hint of humour in the corner of his lips did other things to my insides that I both loved and hated.

  Something swirled around us, warm and expectant. It was tense, but a delicious kind of tense. He licked his lip and, for the space of another heartbeat, the ridiculous idea hit me that he might kiss me. I was pretty sure I’d risk Patrick’s wrath for one taste. History be damned, I’d die happy for one single taste.

  I felt my lips part slightly. Kit’s eyes dropped to them for a split-second. I inhaled sharply…

  Then it was like I could suddenly only just feel the heat of his skin under my finger tips and I consciously realised I was touching him. Actually freaking touching Kit Grayson. Not just a slight accidental brushing of skin, but like full on touching. And no one was putting a stop to it. Someone had to put a stop to it before I did something stupid.

  I pulled my hand back slowly.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly as I turned to deal with the milk in the hopes he wouldn’t see if that heat in my cheeks had sent them pink.

  “Don’t be.” He seemed to clear his throat. When he spoke again, it felt like he was trying to change the subject. “I assumed Hawk had shown you.”

  Happy not to dwell, I shook my head as I pulled off my glasses to wipe them clean enough for now.

  “I thought you caught up at Christmas?” he asked.

  I nodded, then couldn’t help looking back at him with a slight smile. “How often do you think I see Pat naked?”

  Surprised flitted across his features as he gave me a crooked smile, but his eyes had this look like the action was foreign to him now. “I’m hardly naked.”

  “True.” I nodded, sort of very much wishing he was. “But no. I haven’t seen Pat without his shirt on probably since before you left. Alas, our schedules just haven’t lined up.”

  He snorted. “You don’t go home a lot.”

  I went home plenty. I just managed to only go home when Patrick wasn’t likely to feel the need to remove clothing. Even when I hung out at his, he always wore at least a singlet.

  “Neither do you,” I reminded him.

  There was a pause, but for once I didn’t feel awkward. Well not completely awkward. Only what seemed like a reasonable level of awkwardness after you’ve just thrown milk all over yourself.

  “You know, I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had,” he mused.

  I looked back at him again and saw him leaning against the bench with that cocky smirk. A zing of something shot through me and I had trouble keeping my own smirk off my face.

  “I think you’re right,” I replied, going back to my milk problem.

  Suddenly, there was a string of angry sounding…maybe Spanish – dead languages, I’m your girl, live ones…not so much – and a masculine yelp. I spun quickly, slipped on a patch of milk and my legs went out from under me with a yelp of my own.

  The tiny little woman standing in the opening to the kitchen smacked Kit again and snapped at him, to which he replied in perfect…whatever it was. God, I have to get better at this stuff…

  “Okay, okay,” Kit said, waving his hands at her. He stepped towards me and held his hands out.

  Under the glare of the angry woman, I didn’t hesitate to take them and let him help me up. Oh, more touching. My heart fluttered, but the presence of a third person had me keeping my head. Sort of.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes staring super intensely right into mine and literally taking my breath away.

  Reminding myself I was the only one hung up in a moment, I nodded and took my hands back as quickly as wouldn’t seem rude. The damn things tingled at his touch and I was having trouble breathing. I subconsciously wiped my hands on my pants, feeling like they were suddenly super sweaty and gross. All the awkwardness was back.

  Kit cleared his throat and stepped back. “Carmel, this is Amber.”

  Carmel took her glare off Kit and gave me a warm smile. “Miss Amber, lovely to meet you. When Christopher told me he had a young lady living with him, I got all excited. Then the great lummox is standing around while you clean up. You were brought up better than that, mijo. I’m disgusted in you.”

  Kit replied to her in Spanish with a frown.

  “So?” she asked, throwing me a look I felt like I was supposed to know about. “I don’t care if she’s your maid or the woman who’ll bear your children. You show her some damned respect!”

  Kit looked at me in the same sort of cheeky way he’d have looked at Patrick in that moment and Carmel smacked him upside the head. I covered my mouth just not quickly enough to hide my laugh. I saw Kit’s eyebrows rise at me as a smile played
at his lips. It might not have been sexual tension, but it was definitely the height of Chaos cheek and that was just as dangerous.

  Carmel frowned at him again, then turned to me and took my hands.

  “Anything you need, mija, you let me know. Shopping list, washing, dry cleaning,” she threw a pointed look to Kit, “man trouble. I’m here. My numbers and things are in the book in the top drawer in the table in the hall. I’ve got used to Christopher’s odd hours and he pays me handsomely for any bother.” She winked. “So feel free to bother me whenever you like.” She looked me up and down. “Oh you are beautiful, aren’t you? Nothing like that lummox of a brother of yours.”

  I giggled, my nose wrinkling the way it did. “Thank you,” I placated her.

  But she seemed to know I disagreed. “You don’t think so?” She made a tutting noise. “Shame. We’ll have to find a real man to prove it to you.” Here, she winked again.

  I blushed so hard I was sure I went pink this time and I fiddled with my glasses again and I choked on my own spit. “Uh, I think I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

  Kit said something in Spanish and Carmel’s eyes softened as she nodded. “The boys will look after you, mija. They’re a boisterous lot, but their hearts are in the right place.”

  I nodded to her. “You might be right.”

  She smiled. “Now…” She turned back to Kit. “Why are you half naked when there are young ladies in the house?”

  Kit looked suitably chastened. “I left my clean shirt in the hallway and then there was the milk mishap.”

  “Yes. That you didn’t do anything about.”

  I smiled as I watched them banter, slipping between Spanish and English. I’d had no idea Kit knew Spanish. I wondered if maybe he’d learnt on a mission. I wondered if that meant Patrick knew Spanish too.

  The milk on my jeans was getting cold.

  I’d have to interrupt them to get past them to go and get changed. I waved my hand stupidly like I was still in class and cleared my throat. “Uh…”

  Kit’s eyes flew to me, and Carmel turned.

  “Sorry. I should go change my…” I hung my head and grimaced as I realised I was swiftly running out of wearable clothes.

  “What is it?” Carmel asked.

  I forced a smile. “Nothing. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Carmel frowned just like my mum would if I’d tried to lie to her and I felt the truth coming out. Well, the semi-truth.

  “I’m just going to need to wash earlier than planned.”

  The full truth would be that I needed to go and face my ex-best friend and potentially my ex-boyfriend to pack up the rest of my stuff. And move it…into Kit’s place, I guessed.

  Carmel’s frown brightened. “Leave it in your hamper and I’ll sort it tomorrow.”

  “I can do it–”

  “Where? The great lummox doesn’t have a laundry. No. It’s fine. It’s what he pays me for. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” She looked over Kit. “I suppose you’ll need shirts doing?”

  He nodded. “Thanks. We had a couple of…other mishaps this week.”

  She snapped at him in Spanish and he coyly shrugged as he replied. There was something adorable in the way he was letting himself be chastened by this fierce little woman.

  Carmel gave me that look again like she’d strangle him if he wasn’t a favourite and shook her head. “Honestly, how hard is it to put bloody clothes in the sink? Blood stains you know.” She threw her arm up and muttered some more as she wandered out of the kitchen.

  We both watched her until she’d disappeared into Kit’s room.

  “So…” I started. “She’s fun.”

  Kit huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Carmel’s good people. She’s not joking, by the way. Anything you need, whenever you need it. She’ll do it.”

  “Shopping, though?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, she keeps me stocked. She says I give her something to do during the day, so she won’t hear of you shopping.”

  “I suppose the money is a nice incentive.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and huffed self-consciously. With a shirt on, the action was distracting. Without a shirt, I felt in need of a cold shower.

  “Yeah. I got lucky. And that means I can compensate my staff accordingly.”

  “If only Principal Whethers could see you now,” I mused mock-wistfully.

  And I made a mental note not to try to make jokes around him again.

  He broke out into the most gorgeous full smile and those rich brown eyes sparkled. It did all sorts of funny things to my stomach that I’d hoped I’d grown out of, but had realised only moments ago I definitely had not. It wasn’t just the ‘jump me now’ things, it was the ridiculous giggle things, it was the heart beating erratically things, it was the shallow breath things. It was all the things.

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “That would be sweet. Shame I missed the reunion.”

  “I’ve got my five year later this year, I could catch him up?” popped out of my mouth without licence as I seemed to have forgotten I was talking to Kit not Patrick.

  That smile widened and I had to force myself to breathe. “Sure, sounds good.”

  Carmel appeared, muttering in Spanish again. Kit gave me that rueful smirk and went over to her. I, meanwhile, hurried off to my room to get changed and cool down after the force of that smile.

  “You are in so much trouble, Amber,” I told myself as I pulled on my tracksuit pants.

  How was I supposed to live with a guy who turned my brain to mush and killed my respiratory system? Because my lungs and my brain didn’t care that he was all kinds of levels of unattainable. They didn’t care that there were about a thousand boss levels before I got anywhere near his league. And that was presuming I ever got out of best-friend’s-weirdo-little-sister-zone.

  Not that I wanted to.

  Not really.

  What the hell would I do if a guy like Kit ever looked at me twice?

  I’d turn into a ridiculous puddle and that would be the end of it.

  Besides, I wanted a guy who wanted a relationship. Right? Not just one night.

  And guys like Kit did not want relationships. They only wanted one night.

  So there it was. Easy to remember.

  Kit was off-limits and out of my league. I was a hot mess and wanted something more.

  “Say it with me now,” I muttered to my lungs and my brain, hoping repetition would make it true.

  6

  Kit

  I was starting to think maybe she didn’t hate me, hate me. I wasn’t going to suggest she liked me. But I was going to go out on a limb and suggest it wasn’t that she hated me.

  We saw it all the time with clients. Well, we saw it enough with clients.

  Those ones who came to us for self-defence classes, the ones who looked over their shoulders all the time no matter where they were, the ones who felt something – someone – behind them no matter how safe they were, the ones who were running or hiding from something.

  Amber was running or hiding from something. Or someone.

  I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t the way she was, so I didn’t think it was this last arsehole. But I couldn’t think of anything that Hawk had mentioned that could be the cause of it.

  But I knew what could help it.

  It was amazing what a bit of confidence did for you.

  I saw the transformation with all those people who came to Tank for self-defence classes. They arrived with that uncertain demeanour, the one that masqueraded so well as indifference or aloofness. But once they were reminded they could protect themselves, they left looking happy, making eye contact, making plans, moving on.

  A shrink would tell you that the lot of us at Grace Grayson Security could do with a couple of spoons of our own medicine. But our demons weren’t exercised with a little self-defence. We had the ability to protect ourselves and others in almost any situation. We’d just been in enou
gh situations to learn the hard way that you couldn’t save everyone, no matter how good you were.

  But if I was right, I could save Amber.

  So I gave myself a new mission and it was going to start now.

  I just wasn’t sure exactly how to start.

  But I did know where not to start. And it came with a stern reminder that Amber Grace was off-limits. Just because she’d actually looked at me for more than two milliseconds in a row, did not make it a lingering look and I had absolutely imagined the visceral tension between our locked gazes. Her lips parting did not mean she was thinking what I’d been thinking, B1. And her fingers on my skin had not been an invitation to reciprocate by throwing her against a wall and kissing the ever-living fuck out of her.

  By the time Amber was walking back out of the other side of the house, I’d almost convinced myself of all of that. I was also fully dressed and Carmel was finishing off breakfast.

  I’d told Carmel I could do it myself, but the damn woman had insisted for Amber’s sake – she knew how well (or rather, poorly) I cooked.

  She chattered at me in Spanish, berating me for not looking after Amber properly, for not looking after myself properly, for any number of things. And I let her, interjecting only with an apology or a defence.

  I’d met Carmel on a mission years ago. We’d been stuck in Bolivia for months, hunted and harried. Carmel and her family had taken the team in. In payment, the people after us had killed her family and burnt down her house. But we’d got Carmel and her niece Flo out. Our commander at the time had sponsored them and I’d given them jobs when Hawk and I started the security company. Flo worked reception for us most days, although she was out on maternity leave at the moment – her partner had just had twin boys – and we were feeling her absence more than we liked to admit.

  “Sorry, I left all my crap out again last night,” Amber said slowly.

  I looked over at the table and shook my head. “No, it’s fine–”