Bryce propped his hands on his hips, glaring at the back of her head. "So, where are you from? Sounds like somewhere up north."
"Boston," was all she said in response.
"And you came all the way down here to sift through our closets in search of art? What are you looking for?"
At that, Scarlett turned, one eyebrow raised. "Looking for? Griffen asked me to catalog what's here, not to search for anything specific." She tucked the tablet under her arm and studied Bryce like a bug under a microscope. "Is there something I should be looking for? Something you'd like me to find?"
Bryce paused, taken aback at her direct question. I couldn't tell what he was up to. This exercise had begun as a way to learn more about Scarlett. Now, I was more interested in Bryce. I was almost positive Scarlett was searching for something. It hadn't occurred to me that Bryce might be doing the same thing.
Scarlett stared back at him with a bland expression, but the tight grip she had on the tablet told me she wasn't as relaxed as she seemed. Was it the conversation or Bryce himself that was making her nervous?
The stiffness in Bryce's face dissolved back into his smarmy smile, and he sidled closer to Scarlett. "Nah, I've searched the house already," he easily admitted. And wouldn't Griffen be thrilled to hear that?
Tapping on the tablet screen, Scarlett looked completely disinterested. "Find anything good?" she asked absently.
Bryce was right beside her when she looked up, a smug expression on his annoying face. I'd always hated Bryce, but it was a little alarming how much I wanted to shove him away from Scarlett. He wasn't touching her, was only looking at her, and still, I wanted him a mile away. Preferably with a bloody nose.
Bryce reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "Not until I saw you."
At the touch to her hair, she stiffened, her gaze flicking to the doorway, past Bryce's body blocking her exit.
That was it. I was done.
I could play the game with Scarlett. I knew she was hiding things from me, and I'd find out what they were eventually, but none of that was worth putting her through dealing with Bryce.
I could feel her unease all the way out in the hall. I could be an asshole, but I wasn't this much of one. I was the reason she was here. I was the one forcing her to stay at Heartstone Manor. I owed her my protection. More than that, I wanted to give it to her. No one was going to touch her without permission. Not me, and definitely not Bryce.
Fuck, it had almost killed me that morning, not moving while her luscious body pressed to mine. She had no clue how close I'd been to coming all over her soft skin, how hard it had been to let her take the lead. She'd made her way across the bed in the middle of the night, snuggling into me as if we'd slept together every night for years.
Scarlett had been the best armful I'd ever woken up to. Soft, warm, smelling of peaches and woman, her silky hair tickling my nose and falling over my arm, the heavy weight of her breasts pressed to my chest, the velvet skin of her inner thigh pinning my cock to my belly. And that kiss. Fuck. It had been a good thing August turned on the TV before things went any further.
This woman was mine.
We were going to have each other.
Thoroughly.
Eventually.
First, I had to rescue her from Bryce.
Chapter Sixteen
TENN
"Can I help you?" I asked from the doorway, striding in to take Scarlett's arm and turning her away from Bryce.
Bryce sneered at me. "Did I get too close to your toy? I was only making conversation."
Shifting position to put myself between Scarlett and Bryce, I took her free hand in mine, lacing my fingers through hers. "You okay?"
She nodded. "It was hard to focus with him interrupting, but I'm good." She wasn't. Her shoulders were stiff and her eyes were on the door.
"You ready for lunch?" Another nod. "Would you go downstairs and let Savannah know? Maybe we'll take the boys out in the yard for a picnic, give Miss Martha a break."
She was out the door a second later without sparing Bryce a glance. If I'd had any doubt how uncomfortable she'd been, that settled it. I'd had enough of Bryce and his childish bullshit. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something asinine and offensive. I didn't give him the chance. Closing one hand over his throat, I shoved him back until he hit the wall, his mouth gaping like a fish.
Switching my grip, I fisted his polo shirt, holding him in place. He twisted and kicked out with one foot, but I wasn't budging. I'd grown up in a houseful of kids, including older brothers. I knew how to fight. Bryce had been raised an only child of a doting mother. All it took was a single punch to his gut and he was doubled over with tears in his eyes.