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surprise, her muscles tensing as her heart
beat like a hummingbird’s wings in her chest and she let out a
small squeak. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, preventing any
further sound from escaping.
    “What are you doing out of bed?”
    Even when he whispered his voice was harsh.
Narrowing her eyes at him, she answered his question. “I have to go
to the bathroom. Does no one have to pee in the middle of the night
in this house?”
    Okay, maybe that was a little harsh and
bitch-esque, but he deserved it. He’d growled and snapped at her
from the moment he’d found her in their home and now he was
growling at her because she had to pee.
    He stepped closer to her, closing the
distance between them. “Of course we go to the bathroom, but you
shouldn’t be walking.”
    “What do you expect me to do? Yell the house
down and wait for one of you to carry me to the bathroom?”
    “Yes,” he snapped, biting the word out so
quickly she barely saw his mouth move.
    “Well, too bad. I appreciate you three taking
care of me this evening, but I’m feeling much better and…
Omph!”
    He ruined her tirade. Just when she had
gotten her rant going, he ended it by scooping her into his arms.
What was with the Bearclaw brothers and carrying her around?
    Wrapping her arms around Ronan’s neck to
steady herself, she twisted her fingers around the hair at the base
of his skull and pulled.
    “Ow!”
    “Good. Put. Me. Down.”
    It took him several strides to reach the open
bathroom door and she tugged and wiggled with each of his
steps.
    “Stop moving, dammit.”
    He moved through the doorway with her
squirming body without hitting the doorjamb. Plopping her down on
the toilet lid, he strode back to the door, flipping the lights on
as he passed the switch. Grabbing the doorknob, he pulled it behind
him, pausing long enough to issue a few orders.
    “Sit there and pee. When you’re done, call
me, and I will come get you and take you back to bed.”
    Yanking the door closed with a soft click,
Gillian stuck her tongue out at the man on the other side of the
door. Jerk.
    Taking care of business, Gillian made sure
her makeshift pajamas were in place before calling for her
erstwhile escort.
    “Ronan!” she whispered as loud as she dared.
The whole house didn’t need to wake up because she had to use the
bathroom.
    He came into the room just as she was
hobbling toward the sinks to wash her hands. Growling, he picked
her up and plopped her onto the counter.
    “What is with you and carrying me? I have two
feet, ya know. It may hurt, but I am able to walk.”
    Ronan mumbled something in response while he
turned the tap on and grabbed a washcloth from a nearby towel rung.
She watched as he soaked the cloth and rubbed it with soap with
quick, efficient movements. When he reached for her hands, she
snatched them back.
    “What was that? I didn’t hear you.” She
tilted her head to the side and raised her brow.
    As cliché as it sounded, if looks could kill,
she’d be dead. Apparently one in the morning was not the time to
tease Ronan. Not that any time seemed to be the right time. He
reached for her hands and she allowed him to take hold of her wrist
and she wiggled her fingers in his grasp, waving hello.
    “Ronan…” She sung his name, prodding him.
    Dropping the washcloth into the sink he
braced his weight on the counter and stared at her, his sea blue
eyes darkening to nearly black. “You deserve to be treated like
fine china, Gillian. We like caring for you, which includes
carrying you from place to place. Hell, when your feet are healed
we’ll probably still be carrying you around just to feel your skin
against ours.”
    Oh. So not funny.
    Thrusting her hands out, she stared at the
wall over his shoulder, praying he couldn’t see the hurt in her
eyes. We like caring for you? Feeling your skin against
ours? Yeah, right. And Gillian was the next president of the
United States. As. If.
    The brothers barely knew her. They’d