Unfettered Vampire (Found & Freed: The Unfettered #5)

8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

Morgan

W orking from home is lovely. It is comfortable. Convenient. That’s why I’ve done it every day this week. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with wanting to catch glimpses of Ned during the day. Or having the pleasure of hearing his voice drifting through the walls while I’m battling admin tasks.

Nothing to do with that at all. Nope. I’m a grown, sensible man. With responsibilities. I don’t go around behaving like a teenager with their first crush.

I sigh heavily and run my hands over my face. Who am I kidding? I can’t even fool myself with this nonsense. Denying the truth will not help the situation.

What the hell am I going to do? I can’t fall in love. I just can’t. Ned is half my age. He is my employee.

Yes, he is lovely and clever and appreciates good whisky and old films. Yes, he can be delightfully grumpy and assertive. Yes, he is supremely gorgeous.

But I’m sure my feelings are not as innocent as all that. He looks an awful lot like Jennifer. He is wonderful with my kids. He has been here five days a week, in my home, for some of my darkest days. For the whole last year .

He is familiar. Safe. The easy and obvious choice for my broken heart to latch on to. We could fall in love and nothing would be disturbed. The kids would be ecstatic. Ned would simply stay here instead of leaving at night.

It could all be very simple.

And Ned deserves far, far more than that. He should have someone who worships the ground he walks on, for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with dead wives, grieving children and convenience.

Because, as much as my heart wants to protest that I am that person, I can never be certain that I am.

So I need to stop this. I know I do. It is obvious and clear, and as plain as the nose on my face.

I know I need to. But I have no idea how. I don’t even know where to start.

Ned is firmly tangled around my heart and I haven’t a clue how to undo it.

I sigh again and get to my feet. I’m thirsty. A nice cold water will help clear my mind. And if Ned just happens to be in the kitchen cooking dinner for the kids, then that’s simply a happy accident.

As I approach the kitchen, I hear the sound of bubbling water. Pasta? I hope it is spag bol. Ned makes a mean spaghetti bolognese.

I find Ned in the kitchen, looking down at his phone. The playroom is just next door and the kids can be heard happily playing. There is indeed a bubbling pot of water on the hob, and a mound of chopped garlic on the counter.

“Looks like you love garlic as much as you love whiskey,” I remark .

Ned looks up from his phone and grins. Then he chuckles.

“What’s not to love? Garlic is delicious.”

His hazel eyes are twinkling with merriment. I have no idea what is so funny about garlic, but I can’t help grinning back.

I free myself from his gaze and set about getting myself a glass of water, like I was supposed to be doing. I watch Ned out of the corner of my eye. His attention drops back to his phone and his shoulders tense. He seems a little stressed. It is on the tip of my tongue to ask him what’s wrong. But it is none of my business.

His personal life is his own. He is my employee, not my friend. As much as that hurts.

I glug down my glass of water, and the coldness is refreshing. It is like a reset for my rambling thoughts.

I look around and find that Ned has wandered over to the window and poked his head through the slitted blinds. I have no clue what is so interesting about the driveway and front garden. Especially at nighttime. But Ned seems transfixed.

Wait. Is there someone out there?

I walk over to Ned and peer through the gap he has created. If he is spying on someone, I don’t want to give us away by opening the blind wider.

But there is no one out there. At least, no one I can see.

“What is it?” I whisper as my gaze darts around the dark and hopefully empty garden.

Ned stiffens and then goes utterly still.

Oh crap. I’m looming over him. My hands are on either side of his on the windowsill. My head is above his. My groin is scant inches from his ass. His hair is nearly tickling my nose. I can smell him and he smells amazing.

I need to move. I need to back away. If putting my hand on his knee freaked him out, then this is a disaster. But I’m frozen. Immobile. Rooted to the spot.

I can sense a frisson of fear from Ned. But that’s not all. There is tension. Sexual tension. Heavy in the air between us. I can feel it, I swear I can. It is real and I’m not imagining it.

He is not breathing and I don’t think I am either. We are close, so very close. A fraction of an inch closer and our bodies would be touching. Pressed together. I would have thought I’d be able to feel his body heat from here. But I can’t. Perhaps he is cold, or we are not as close as I thought.

“Is dinner ready yet?”

I leap away from Ned as if he has suddenly burst into flames. Though if he had, I’d like to think I’d be more noble and try to put them out, instead of running away.

I whirl and look down at Noah. There is no horror, alarm, or confusion in his eyes. Whatever he saw, his innocent mind thought nothing of it. He is simply hungry.

“Ten minutes,” says Ned calmly.

Noah nods and runs back to the playroom.

I suck in a deep breath, and like the coward that I am, I don’t look at Ned as I go and retrieve my water. I don’t think I can acknowledge what just happened. Hell, I’m not even sure I understand what happened. Or if anything just did. For all I know, we could have just looked out of the window together and everything else was purely my imagination.

“Are you eating with the kids?” Ned says softly .

I blink. He is by the hob, stirring the spaghetti. I didn’t hear him move from the window.

“And you?” I ask, and it feels like a bigger question than a proposal. I swear I was less nervous when I dropped to one knee for Jennifer.

Ned bites his bottom lip. Then he nods. My heart does cartwheels. Ned is staying for dinner. Usually, he dishes up for the kids and then busies himself with cleaning and tidying while the kids are eating.

And I usually eat later. Sitting down all together is going to be wonderful. All my favorite people in the world around one table.

The one and only good thing to come from Jennifer’s death, is my ability to savor, relish and truly appreciate such small moments of joy. I took them for granted before. I didn’t understand what treasures they were, and I’ll never make that mistake again. For as long as I live.

I set two more places at the table, and Ned dishes up. It is beautiful domesticity. And precisely why I can never trust my feelings for Ned. I might not love him for who he is, but merely because of how well he fits into my life. Which is wonderful for me, but awful for Ned.

Despite being fully aware of this, I bask in soppy feelings as he rounds the kids up and herds them to the downstairs bathroom to wash their hands. The very same bathroom that has suffered no leaks at all since Ned yelled at the plumber. Listening to him now, it is hard to believe it is the same man. I’ve never once heard him raise his voice to the children.

I watch with a smile on my face as everyone troops back to the kitchen and takes a seat at the table. I sit down too and when Ned joins us, I’m practically glowing with contentment.

A whisper of guilt coils through me. The same old belief that I should not be happy while Jennifer is dead. But for once, I am able to ignore it.

Oscar unleashes his current obsession with knock-knock jokes and soon everyone is giggling. Myself included. But while Ned is smiling, he looks on edge and I catch him glancing at the window, more than a few times. He doesn’t eat much either. He picks at his food and moves it around his plate.

I hope he is okay. I’m going to assume that it’s not my near groping of him that has put him in such a strange mood, because he was uneasy and looking out of the window before that ever happened.

Dinner finishes, and the kids rush off to play some more before bath time. I linger and help Ned with the dishwasher. We work in silence for a few minutes. But then I have to ask. Concern is flowing through me and I need to know.

“Is everything alright?”

Ned’s beautiful eyes glance at me briefly before turning sharply away.

“Yeah.”

I stand motionless, staring at him while he turns the dishwasher on. He is ignoring me, but I know he can feel my gaze on him.

Eventually, he sighs and surrenders. “I ran into an asshole last night and it has kinda spooked me.”

My heart freezes, and my blood runs cold. Was it the asshole? The one who violated and traumatized him ?

Ned looks up at me and winces. “Baltazar has never…done anything. He is just a jerk.”

“That’s some jerk if he has unsettled you this much.”

Ned’s shoulders tense. I almost reach out my hand to give them a little squeeze, but I manage to stop myself just in time.

“It’s…it’s fine,” Ned’s voice sounds strangled. He peeks up at me again, and then he sighs heavily. “Baltazar leads a local cult, and he wants me to join. He is crazy, but harmless.”

Cult? Wow. Well, that’s quite something. And it explains the bizarre name. But this doesn’t sound good at all.

“Should we call the police?”

Ned’s hazel eyes widen. “Oh no, no. It’s fine. I’m just paranoid he will turn up here.”

My stomach clenches. Hard. It feels like a rock in the middle of my organs. Suddenly, Ned’s hand is on my arm.

“Morgan, I’d never let anything happen to the kids, or you. Please believe me.”

The sincerity in his voice seeps into my soul. Ned is all of five-foot nothing, yet I find myself nodding in agreement. Somehow, it is entirely believable that he can protect us from unhinged religious fanatics.

“The worst that will happen is that he will stand on the lawn spewing gibberish.”

I nod again. How the hell did Ned get caught up with such a weirdo? I guess times have changed, and Ned is young and actually leaves the house and socializes. Unlike me. Home and work. It’s all I do, so of course I’m not going to come across strange people for them to latch onto me .

“Can I stay the night?”

I blink at Ned. Did he really just say that?

He takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m really sure it is fine, but I hate the thought of you and the kids getting dragged into my drama. If I’m here, I can deal with him if he shows up.”

My mind is filling with images of Ned in my bed. I shake my head to clear it. I have five guest rooms. All perfectly lovely. One is even already sort of Ned’s. I offered it to him as a sanctuary to hide in from the kids when he needs five minutes. He has some books in there and a pair of slippers.

But he has never stayed the night. Until now.

“Of course you can stay, it will be a pleasure to have you.”

Oh god. Did I really just say that? Kill me now, please. What kind of cheesy innuendo was that? And I didn’t even mean it. Well, not consciously. Oh my, I can feel my cheeks heating.

There is a fond, warm look in Ned’s eyes. He chuckles, but he doesn’t tease me.

“Fancy getting out the good whisky once the kids are in bed?” he asks instead.

I swallow thickly and nod. Right now, I can’t think of anything in the world I want more.