Read Online Shelter Me by Catherine Mann - Free Book Online Page A

around here with repairs . . . and with your grandfather’s Alzheimer’s, did he?”
    “What good would it have done to tell him? Worry can be distracting, and we didn’t want to do anything that put him in even greater danger.”
    Not that it had mattered in the end. “I’m surprised he didn’t notice changes with your grandfather when you Skyped.”
    “We just told him Grandpa hated Skype, which kept their interactions brief. We managed.”
    He wanted her life to be about more than just managing. She could have moved out with the money from her assistantship, yet she chose to stay here and help with her grandfather. That kind of selflessness was rare.
    Mike snagged a strand of her hair that had escaped her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear. Her silken skin tempted his fingers to linger against her. “I mean it when I say call me if you need help with anything around here.”
    “Of course I will.” She never did lie well.
    He started to confront her on that when her brother stepped out of the woods and shouted, “She won’t ask for help, you know. Not ever.”
    Sierra scowled and extended her arm with the pillowcase still in her fist. “Nathan, don’t forget your snake.”
    “What?” He stuffed his earbuds back in again. “Can’t hear you.” He walked past her without looking as he jogged into the house.
    If Mike had thrown around that much bad attitude, his dad would have chewed his ass, not that his dad had been home often. And Allen sure as hell wouldn’t have tolerated so much lip from his son, although the Colonel had a quieter way of relaying his displeasure. Silent disappointment. But then would Nathan be this defiant, lashing out at everyone if his father hadn’t died?
    Mike turned back to Sierra. “Is he okay?”
    “Honestly? Who knows with him anymore.” Her blue eyes darkened with a mix of sadness and frustration as she set the makeshift serpent sack on the table. “He was difficult before, and he’s even tougher to gauge now. Every time I read about one of those teens going postal, I wonder if we should be doing more. Mom has spoken to his teachers and the school counselor. Everyone thinks he just needs time to process his grief.”
    “With counseling?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You’re seriously worried.”
    “He’s a fifteen-year-old boy who just lost his father.” She dropped back into the patio chair with a weary sigh. “Hell yes, I’m worried.”
    “Yet you keep insisting you’re okay.” He leaned back on the table so he could see her beautiful eyes better. “Why is it all right for him to be hurting but not you?”
    “Of course we’re all hurting, but I’m an adult.” She gripped the arms of the chair. “And this conversation is now moving past my comfort zone.”
    “Guess I’ve given up the right to pry,” he said with more than a hint of regret. “But I can’t stop feeling like I can be of help here.”
    She shook her head. “My brother was just going for shock value in offering you the studio apartment in the barn.”
    “Clearly.”
    “You’ll need to find a place of your own now that you’re back.”
    “Actually, there’s kind of a problem with that since so many places want long-term leases.” He thought about the future, something he tried to avoid when he could. Living in the moment was tough enough when transitioning from over there to back home. “I’ll be moving in a couple of months, so I’ll probably just stay in the motel.”
    She bit her lip, and he could see her trying to hold back the urge to ask. And he shouldn’t care that she was still conflicted about them, but he did. Even though he’d let her go and knew that was the right decision, he couldn’t deny there was still chemistry left between them.
    Major understatement.
    Truth was, he struggled not to touch her every second they were together. He knew exactly how to kiss her the way she liked best, the when and the where, too. The memories of other times together clouded his