“Can I close the door to my car and get my coffee?” she asks, biting her lip, obviously trying to control her laughter.
I let go of her. “This isn’t funny.” I pout. “This is all your fault. Thanks to you, I had to have that guy in my house last night and this morning.”
“I could think of much worse problems, honey,” she tells me, slamming her door with her hip and grabbing her to-go coffee cup off the roof of her car.
I still can’t believe I slept with him. It’s such an un-Kayan thing to do. So much so, I don’t even know how to tell July. So I decide to keep it to myself until I sort out my feelings about the whole situation.
“You would think so.” I need to vent just a little, so I tell her, without giving everything away, “He was shirtless in my house. Who gets undressed in front of people they don’t know then struts around showing off their body?” I feel a little guilty, omitting what happened after Z became shirtless last night. Not to mention, he saw me naked first, when I shot him. I blow a piece of hair out of my face, which has turned hot at the memory.
“You like him.” She gives me a smile then laughs at me.
“I do not like him.” I frown, and we both watch as he pulls out of the parking lot, me having to control the dreamy sigh that wants to escape at how freaking gorgeous that damn man is.
“Sure, you don’t,” July says, seeing right through me.
“I don’t,” I retort, stomping past her as soon as she unlocks the door. “And if he thinks he’s staying at my house tonight, he has another think coming!” I yell to her as she disappears into her office.
A few hours later, the front door chimes, and I unconsciously scoot my rolling chair back several feet at the infuriated look on the man’s face. He looks familiar, and I squint my eyes, trying to place him. Then it hits me. Even though we were always a safe distance behind him the night we followed him to the biker bar, this is undeniably the guy who’s been dropping off the fighting dogs.
“You,” I squeak then clear my throat. “You’re the guy—”
“Whatever you planned on doing the other night when you followed me, you need to forget it. You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he growls, his deep voice not matching his young looks.
Before I can respond, July walks up to my desk, sweeping her eyes over me to see if I’m okay. “Can I help you?” she asks when she looks over at the guy.
“Like I was just telling your friend, you guys need to mind your business.”
“I need to mind my business?” She steps toward him and to my surprise pokes a finger in his chest. “You made whatever it is you’re doing my business when you started dropping dead dogs off at my hospital.”
I nod, scooting my chair forward and silently giving my best friend support. I tamp down my urge to stand up and say, “Yeah!”
“I was trying to do the right thing, but I won’t be able to save your stupid asses again. They will kill you,” he says, and I suck in a breath at his rudeness.
But July takes a much different approach than I would have, if I were taking over this situation. “I know people who can help you,” she tells him gently, and it makes me look at him more closely. He’s definitely as young as we originally thought, around twenty years old. But his blue eyes look exhausted, as if he’s seen much more in his years than he should have. He seems to take in July’s words, as if wishing he could get the assistance she’s offering. “They can help; I promise,” she adds, and he shakes himself, his eyes turning angry.
“Just mind your fucking business!” he shouts then turns around and pushes so hard against the door that the glass cracks as it hits the outside of the building.
“I wonder what we’re missing,” July says aloud as we both watch him screech out of the parking lot.
“I don’t know, but he seems scared,” I reply, thinking about the flash of longing I saw in his face.
“Yeah,” she agrees, swallowing.
“Do you want me to call Wes or Z and tell them what just happened?” I ask, and she meets my gaze and shakes her head.
“No, if anything else happens, I’ll tell him,” she promises.
I pooch my lips out doubtfully, but I nod anyway.
“Um. Hello. Excuse me. What the hell are you doing in my house… again?” Kayan’s sweet, haughty voice is thrown at me from her front door.
I slide my arm up across the back of her couch and watch her eyes heat when they land on it. I haven’t figured out if it’s the muscles or the tattoos that make her practically forget her name. Maybe it’s both. In any case, I’ll continue working out the rest of my life just to keep getting that look from her.