My mind fixated on the futon as I wondered how soaked it was and whether it would dry out enough for me to sleep on it.
“What are you staring at, Steph?”
His question snapped me out of it. “Nothing. I just wondered how wet the futon is.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re not sleepin’ on it tonight...”
He trailed off but stalked into the kitchenette area.
Har
HAR DIDN’T KNOW WHY he went over to the area resembling a kitchen, he just knew he had to distance himself from Stephanie.
She couldn’t stay here, and it infuriated him that she wondered how wet the damn bed was. If she thought staying here was an option, she needed her head examined.
He didn’t want her at the clubhouse. Even if he put her in his room, it wouldn’t keep his brothers from wondering what the hell was going on. As it was, when they’d gathered for church, Massive and Wreck had both asked if she was Brute’s woman.
“According to Har, who she is doesn’t matter to any of us,” Roman had muttered, and Har wanted to rip his head off.
Calling church to session allowed him to cover, but that interest meant Stephie back at the clubhouse was a no-go.
That left his home. Or Brute’s apartment.
It should be easy for him to take Stephie to Brute’s. They used to live together after all. But he didn’t like that idea either.
“Um, Har,” she called.
He turned around. The skin around her lips was rosy from their kiss. He liked that. Shit.
“Yeah, Steph. Listen, you—”
“Why did you kiss me?”
Damn.
That was refreshing, even as it was annoying. Other women didn’t come right out and ask shit. They’d wheedle and beat around the bush. Not Stephanie, though.
The worst thing was that he didn’t know the answer to that question either. He wished that he did.
“Felt like it,” he muttered.
It wasn’t a lie. He’d wanted to do it since he sat across from her Friday night. However, his answer wasn’t the whole truth, either. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and his dick wanted him to assuage his curiosity about other things, too.
“You felt like it.” she repeated, with a questioning tone.
“Pack a bag,” he ordered.
“Yeah, no.”
Her face held no hint of what she was thinking.
“Are you crazy? You’re not staying here. There are probably black mold spores in that debris.”
She arched a brow. “Yeah. So, I’m not packing a bag. I’m calling a moving company and packing up all my crap.”
“And where are you going?”
She blinked, and her eyes slid to the side.
He didn’t want her at his place, but he had four bedrooms and three bathrooms. She could live there and he wouldn’t know the difference. As much time as he spent at his shop, and her schedule at a casino, he’d never run into her. Probably.
“You’re comin’ to my place.”
“What?” she asked, her tone sounded like he’d said she was moving to Mars.
“You heard me. Start gettin’ your shit together. Don’t think Brute’s up to much; he’ll help get you moved.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to stay with you. I’m not some charity case.”
“Didn’t say you were. I got more than enough space. You won’t even know I’m around.”
Her lips twisted as she mulled it over.
He continued. “Hell, with our schedules we won’t see each other much any damn way.”
Her brows arched, and she started slowly nodding. “Fine. But it’s temporary.”
“Whatever. Let’s get it done.”
Chapter 5 Pink's Your Color
Stephanie
WITH A STACK OF MY clothes draped over his arm, Brute gave me a stern look. “You gotta get your head on straight, girl.”
That would be true, if he were talking about Har kissing me, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know about that and he never would. Since he wasn’t talking about my tongue tangling with his best friend’s, he must have been referring to my living arrangements.
“Whatever, Brute. It’s not like I can inspect the roof when selecting the roof over my head, you know?”
He leaned toward me. “Yeah. You can. You should’ve noticed that stain mark the day you toured the place.”
I pressed my lips together. “When I settled here, I didn’t tour the place. The price was right, crime didn’t seem that prevalent, so I took it.”
Brute closed his eyes and shook his head. “You didn’t tour the place. Typical. Let’s go. Staying with Har’ll be like moving into the fuckin’ Taj Majal compared to this.”
“Can we stop beating a dead horse already?” I followed him down the stairs.
“This’ll be the last time we’re ever here. Sure.”
I shoved my jewelry box and other valuable items into one of the saddlebags on my Harley.
As I straightened, Har walked to me. “My place is across the Back Bay. It’s about twenty minutes from here. You can ride beside me or follow Brute.”
I didn’t ride with other people very often, but turning him down would be rude. “I’ll ride next to you.”
His expression stayed stoic as he lifted his chin, then he turned around but four steps away he looked over his shoulder at me. “Don’t forget to wear your helmet. I bet pink’s your color.”
With the offending helmet in place, I got on my bike and started her up.
As he drove by in his truck, Brute honked his horn as the window slid down. “Love the helmet, Stephie!”
I shot a fake smile at him. Even over the rumble of my bike, I heard him howl with laughter.
Har rode right behind him, and I motored around to come up on his right side.
My bike was loud normally, but riding alongside Har, things were really loud. I found myself grateful for that since it kept me from thinking any further about that damn kiss. He ‘felt like’ kissing me. I supposed that was typical of him. He had never let anything hold him back from what he wanted to do, so why would kissing me be any different?
HAR LIVED IN A
