He made the only call he could.
“Hey, Spencer, it’s Brand.”
“What’s up?” Spencer asked, sounding distracted, and Brand grimaced—it was the middle of the day and the guy was launching the new store soon. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was the only one available to him.
“I’m in a bit of a bind, mate. I was wondering if you could keep an eye on someone for, like, twenty minutes?”
“That sounds a bit ominous. Like a prisoner?”
Sam snorted. “Seriously? No, not like a fucking prisoner. It’s Laura Prentiss. She just showed up this morning. I’m going to stay with Lia while Lally and her CPO stay at the cabin overnight.”
“Where’s her CPO now?”
“With Lia.”
“Why? Is Lia in some kind of danger?” Spencer asked, his voice sharp.
“No, but Lally is a magnet for trouble, and I . . .” He broke off, not knowing how to explain rationally.
“Hmm. I see,” Spencer rumbled. “Yeah. I’d do the same for Daff.”
“Right. Uh . . . so . . .”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it. Oh, and while I’m asking for favors, would you mind if I borrowed your truck?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Sam drove up to Lia’s little house half an hour later, the rental car was parked outside her house, but there was no sign of Chambers. Where the fuck was he? Like he wasn’t in enough fucking trouble already.
Sam grabbed his bag and strode through the front door without knocking. He stepped into the living room and froze.
“What in the name of fuck is going on here?” Lia was standing behind the sofa, where Chambers sat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. She had her hands on his temples and seemed to be giving him a massage.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” he roared, and Chambers leapt to his feet, his eyes huge and his hands held palms up in the classic pose of surrender.
“Technically speaking, I didn’t have my hands on her,” Chambers pointed out calmly, and Sam heard himself growl. Lia was scowling at him. She looked seriously pissed off, actually, and it made him pause a moment before refocusing his attention on Tyler.
“Get out of here, Tyler! Keep an eye on that demon woman.”
“Seriously, Sam,” Tyler said, his deep voice losing its usual amiable tone and his eyes narrowing. They were longtime friends, but the man rarely used Sam’s first name. “If you don’t take me off Lally duty when we get back to London, I’m quitting.”
Sam sighed, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, and nodded curtly.
“Noted.”
“Thank you kindly for the massage, ma’am,” he said, laying on the drawl for Lia, who blushed in response while Sam contemplated punching his friend. “I feel much better.”
“Piss off, Tyler,” Sam commanded through clenched teeth, and the guy grinned at him and flipped him the bird while Lia’s head was turned.
Lia wasn’t sure why Sam was here. Or why he had a bag. All she knew was that she was angry with him. Very, very angry. And so hurt by what he had said that morning.
“It was lovely meeting you, Miss Lia,” she heard Tyler say, and she smiled at him through the sheen of hot tears that was starting to obscure her vision.
“You too, Tyler. Have a safe journey home.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
A heavy silence descended on the house after he left, and Lia wasn’t about to break it. He’d invited himself into her home, he could darned well talk first. The silence extended into minutes, and, finally, he sighed heavily and swore. It felt like a victory of sorts and bolstered Lia’s courage.
“Lia, look . . . I know how that must have looked back there. But I swear to God, I wasn’t lying about Lally and me. We aren’t involved, we never have been. That’s just the way she is.”
“Oh, I know there’s nothing between you,” she said. Her voice sounded worse because of the lurking tears. “And at this moment, I really don’t care. I don’t know why you came here or why you brought that bag, but I want you to leave.”
“I can’t stay in that cabin with Lally and Tyler. I thought I would stay with you.”
“No.”
“Are we doing this again?”
“Why should I let you stay here? You have no respect for me. You don’t think anything of me. You’re . . . you’re so despicable!”
“Come on, Lia, is this about what you told me before Lally showed up? I know my reaction wasn’t ideal, but . . . to be honest, I was going to end our fling as well. And then when you did, I felt kind of deflated.”
“Why? Couldn’t your ego handle being the dumpee instead of the dumper for a change?”
“What? No, that’s not it. I was going to end the fling. I don’t want to fling anymore—for the first time in my miserable fucking life, I want more than that.”