Chapter 8

The man stepped back and held up his hands, palms out. “Hey, I had no idea you lived here.”

Graham’s eyes narrowed.

“No, seriously,” he insisted. “The agency sent me here.”

“Agency?” Shit. “You’re the…home health care aide?”

S.G. nodded and offered his hand. “I’m Sam Morgan. Nurse for hire.”

Graham stared up at him—probably a little too long at the man’s massive chest—and finally took his hand, shaken by the jolt of electricity coursing through his arm. “Okay. Um, come inside?” His voice trembled. Get a grip!

S.G.—Sam—followed him, ducking his head as he walked through the doorway.

His dad didn’t look up, so Graham led Sam to the kitchen table, gesturing for him to take a seat. He wasn’t even sure what to say. Or ask. He felt awkward. And silly for thinking the guy was stalking him. Graham had only been a quick fuck at the club for Sam. A means to an end. Nothing more.