He paused as he stood beneath the shower spray. Relationship. Hell, he’d never had a relationship. Until now. Until Chaya. He’d never kept a woman around long, never wanted to, but he was starting to suspect he wanted to keep Chaya forever.

He finished his shower, dressed, and was downstairs in the living room pulling on his boots when a fist landed in imperative demand against the door.

His head jerked up, then he lowered and shook it in resignation. He knew that knock.

Pushing to his feet, he stalked to the door, pulled the shade back, and glared at Dawg as he slid the door open.

“Isn’t Crista draggin’ your ass to the lumber store?” he smirked. Dawg’s wife kept him on a very short leash. Dry cleaned and pressed clothes that looked presentable rather than day-old and holey. A decent haircut. But the scowl on his older cousin’s face hadn’t changed by much.

“Crista’s not feeling well this morning.” Dawg shrugged as he stepped into the boat. “Where are you headed off to this early? I thought you took Fridays off from the garage now.”

Natches watched curiously as Dawg prowled the living room and the kitchen.

“When did you start checking up on me?” Natches leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Dawg.

“When you came back from Iraq and started actin’ brick dumb.” Dawg grunted as he turned to face him. “You know, I always wondered what the hell made you so much harder while you were gone. What did she do to you? Screw around on you? And you’re heading right back into trouble with her?”

Natches stood still. “You don’t want to go there, Dawg,” he told him carefully. “Chaya’s not the reason for however the hell I was acting or whatever I may have done. I didn’t poke my nose into your hijinks with Crista, so I’d suggest you stay out of my relationship with Chaya.”

“Relationship?” Dawg narrowed his eyes on him. “You’ve never had a relationship in your life, Natches. Are you sure you know what the hell you’re doing here?”

Natches uncrossed his arms enough to scratch at his jaw and remember the fact that he had forgotten to shave. Again. But his cousin’s attitude was bothering him more than the growth of beard on his cheek. Dawg had been acting strange ever since he had learned Chaya was back in town.

“Did you know what the hell you were doing with Crista?” he finally asked. “Come on, Dawg; you blackmailed her into sleeping with you. Did I give you grief over it?”

Dawg grimaced at that. He stood there in his jeans, shit-kicker boots, and that perfectly pressed long-sleeved shirt of his and glared at Natches again.

“Why is Agent Dane back here anyway?”

Natches shrugged. “Tying up loose ends is what I hear. What do you hear?”

“I hear Cranston’s running another op,” he snapped. “And Agent Dane is smack in the middle of it. Did she let you in on that little piece of information?”

“We didn’t exactly get around to discussing it,” Natches informed him. “First you and Rowdy broke down the door to my nice warm apartment, and once I got back here, I wasn’t exactly in the mood to fight with her. What the fuck is your problem anyway? You’re acting like a worried father. I didn’t exactly stay out past curfew.” He smirked at the thought. “Man, Crista is so domesticating you that it isn’t even funny.”

And damned if a flash of pride didn’t hit Dawg’s expression, rather than anger at what he would have once termed an insult.

“Look,” Natches breathed out in irritation. “I know you and Rowdy have been following me around like a spy after secrets. You can stop now, okay? I’m a big boy. I do real good on my own.”

“Until Agent Dane hit your life?” Dawg snapped. “I’ve been doing some checking. Before that bullet took out your shoulder, Natch, you were self-destructing like hell. Taking every mean-assed suicide assignment you could find. Why? And why the hell did it come around just months after you rescued some blond agent from a hellhole in the Iraqi desert? Tell me that agent wasn’t the same one messing your head up now.”

Natches was quiet for long, silent seconds. He stared at his cousin, promising himself he wasn’t going to lose his temper. If he lost his temper, then he’d miss Chaya. And on top of that, he and Dawg would end up whipping on each other with enough force to leave both of them bruised and limping for days. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Lock up when you leave.” He turned and walked out the door before stepping from the small deck onto the floating walk.

He heard Dawg curse behind him, and he ignored it. His cousin was fishing, and Natches wasn’t biting. It was Dawg’s favorite means of getting answers from Natches, and it used to work. Piss him off and get him fighting. He didn’t give a damn what he said to Dawg or Rowdy then. He would just spill his guts right there in the middle of a fight.

Natches grinned at the thought. Hell, those were the days. Before the Marines, when they were young and wild and filled with too much damned ego. Long ago and far away. More than eight damned years ago.

As he dug his keys out of his pocket and moved from the docks to the parking lot, he glanced back down the marina, flashed Dawg a smile, and lifted his hand in farewell. His cousin was standing there with his hands propped on his hips, and even from where he stood, Natches could see the scowl on his face.

Dawg had never liked Chaya, and Natches knew why. His older cousin had spent too many years trying to protect his younger cousins. Seeing Chaya again last year had ripped Natches’s guts out. It had torn into him knowing she wasn’t ready to push past all that pain inside her yet, knowing it wasn’t time to claim her. And unfortunately, Dawg had witnessed Natches’s struggle; he just hadn’t been positive who the woman was.

Sometimes it concerned Natches, the way he knew things about Chaya. Knew when to push her, when to just hold her. It was in her eyes, those needs she had, swirling in the golden depths. And the harder she fought it, the more she needed.

Last night, she had been like a firecracker ready to explode before he had even touched her. Those pretty golden brown eyes had been frosty, her expression closed, every line in her body straining to hold distance between them. Because what she felt scared her, scared her all the way to the bottom of her soul, and she knew it.

He unlocked his jeep and pushed the key in the ignition as he considered that, and the implications of it. Maybe Dawg had reason to worry, because Natches had a feeling he was only just beginning to realize how far over his head he was with Chaya. He was very much afraid that he just might love her.

Dawg watched Natches drive away and shook his head before jumping the short distance between Natches’s deck and his own. And Crista was waiting for him, standing in the door, watching him curiously as he cast another scowl back at Natches.

“Well, you’re still in one piece anyway.” She looked up and down his body, her eyes twinkling in her still-pale face.

“You should be lying back down.” He let his gaze sweep over her now, his heart softening in his chest even as his cock hardened in his jeans. Damn what this woman could do to him.

“I’m feeling a little bit better.” She shrugged, looking away from him before turning and moving back into the houseboat.

“It’s too cool outside for you to be standing in the doorway like that.” He closed the door before frowning.

Maybe it was time to move out to the house. It was almost finished. He could push the contractors and get the carpet laid sooner than the spring date they had quoted him. A little extra money and they’d come out sooner. It hadn’t been too cold last year, but still cold enough that she had insisted on wearing too many clothes. And the walkway had gotten icy a few times. He didn’t want to risk her falling into the water.

He made a mental note to call the contractors later that morning, deciding he didn’t want to spend another winter on the water. Summer and fall would work if they decided the house didn’t suit them to live in year-round.

“I’ll be fine, Dawg.”

He grunted at that as he moved to the refrigerator. “You ready for breakfast yet?”

She was silent; he turned back to her, and he swore she was more pale than she had been moments before.

“I think I need to go lie back down.” She headed for the stairs.

“I think you need to see the doctor.” Something snapped inside him then. Fear. Dawg had rarely known fear, but he had never seen Crista sick either. “Call him this morning, Crista.”

“I’ll be fine.” She shook her head as she headed up the stairs, her voice strained.

“Like hell,” he muttered, moving behind her and catching up with her as she was pulling the blankets over herself.

Sitting next to her, he touched her forehead. She felt clammy, but she wasn’t running a fever. She was pale though, and that worried him.

“It’s just a bug.” She sighed. “Everyone’s sick at the store, Dawg. Just because you can’t catch a virus doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.”

She sounded jealous, and he had to grin. “We’ll get you nice and healthy before no time,” he promised her. “Just living with me will rub all those good healthy genes off on you.”

She snorted at that. “Go away and let me sleep. And you need to check the deliveries this afternoon. Don’t forget that.”

He frowned. “I’ll have Layla’s husband check them. I’m staying here with you.”

“Hmm.” She looked up at him, her gaze sharpening for a moment. “Why are you so upset over that woman staying the night with Natches?”

She didn’t sound jealous; she sounded concerned. The question had him rubbing at the back of his neck in irritation.

“She’s up to something. That’s Timothy Cranston’s little pet, Agent Greta Dane. I don’t like it.”

“Is that all?”

“She’s too damned plain,” he muttered, knowing she wouldn’t understand any more than Rowdy did.

Her lips quirked in amusement. “You’re not the one sleeping with her; so why should you care?”

He glared at the dark carpeting on the floor before lifting his gaze back to her. “I don’t know. It bothers me.”

“She’s actually a very pretty girl,” Crista told him. “It’s not her looks that bother you.”

A frown snapped between his brows. “I know a pretty woman when I see one.”

And she smiled at that. A smile he didn’t quite understand. It was patient and amused and made him grit his teeth.

“You know, it’s mothers who are supposed to protest the girl’s looks, not fatherly cousins.”

Her comment had him staring at her in disbelief.

“You’re crazy.”

And she shook her head. “You have to let them go sometime, Dawg. Natches is all grown-up now. Let him try his wings a little bit. It might not be as bad as you think.” She was on the verge of laughing at him.

“You obviously have a very strange virus,” he grunted, put out that she was laughing at him, that she just didn’t understand what he didn’t understand himself. “Go to sleep.”

She didn’t protest. She just yawned a little and pulled the blankets closer to her chin. “It’s cold in here.”

Yeah, maybe it was time to move to the house. He was definitely calling those contractors. Then he was going to make another call and find out just what the hell Agent Dane was doing back in town.

Chaya made sure she spent no more time in her hotel room than she had to. She was betting Natches was a very early riser. She showered, dressed, dried her hair, and pulled it back into a ponytail, and within an hour she was out of there. And not a moment too soon. When she pulled her rented sedan onto the interstate, she swore that she saw Natches’s jeep headed toward the hotel.