“It’s her baby brother. I guess he’s got problems of his own. Got in deep with the dirty cop and now he won’t let her brother go until the debt’s paid off.”
“Fuck…” Hudson mumbles around the bite he’s just taken and shakes his head.
“Yeah.” Rowan’s eyes flick to me. “You’re awfully quiet about your fangirl.”
I give him a sideways glance. “I didn’t know anything about her circumstances. I told you—our interactions have been minimal.”
“Right. Which is why the two of you were making fucking googly eyes at each other when she was threatening to kill me.”
Hudson laughs before we both glare at him, stuffing another bite of his burger in his mouth as he looks away.
“Go get her and help her move tomorrow. Practice is canceled, so you should be free after class.” Rowan looks back at me again.
“I thought you were the one fucking her. Why don’t you help her?” I don’t like the way he orders me around.
“When hate fucking her brains out is a solution, I’ll happily fucking take care of it. When she needs emotional support and help moving heavy shit—that’s where you come in. You can work on getting more information out of her. She only spilled shit to me today because she was rattled, and I was the lesser evil. She actually likes you.”
“He has a point.” Hudson shrugs, and we both glare at him again. He’s literally incapable of keeping his mouth shut sometimes, and someday that is going to get him in trouble. In this house if not elsewhere.
“Fine. I’ll check on her. For the record, I think this is a terrible idea. Where is she even going to sleep?”
“The couch.” Rowan shrugs nonchalantly.
“The couch? She’s not some dude crashing on the weekend, Rowan.”
“She’ll live. It’s free and safer than where she is.”
“Or we could treat her well instead of like she’s a stray cat with mange we’re reluctantly taking in,” Hudson pipes in.
“I don’t need your opinion, Mr. Fancy as Fuck. I need her in this house. She needs financial help and safety from the people who want to make her life miserable. She has it. I’m not fucking putting her up in a five-star hotel or rolling out the red carpet. Both of you can shut the fuck up about it and get on board, or we can have problems again.”
“Fine,” Hudson and I agree in unison but in very different tones.
“And to be clear—no one touches her.” Rowan’s eyes meet mine and there’s a meaningful look in them. “No one.”
“Not a problem,” Hudson says dismissively.
I pause for a long beat, staring back at him. We don’t fight over women. We almost came to blows once over one at the beginning of our friendship, and we agreed we’d never do it again. But I like Charlotte, more than I thought possible with each new thing I learn about her. Having him tell me I don’t have a chance to explore that? My gut tells me to argue. But my head tells me to get in line. That no woman is worth it. Besides, Rowan’s interest in a woman never holds anyway. A couple of weeks and he’s bored. With the way she irritates him, it might even be shorter than that. But I still don’t like the way he throws down a gauntlet over it.
“Fine,” I answer at last, letting the bitter tone come through on the word. Rowan studies me for a moment before he relents, turning his attention elsewhere.
“I’m gonna try to relax. Don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency.” Rowan walks off, and I give him the middle finger once he’s trudging up the stairs.
Eight
Charlotte
The next afternoon I’m packing up my stuff in the room I’ve rented for the last year, tossing things into my suitcase and a couple of boxes I took from the diner. I gave the landlords my thirty days' notice and my final payment which nearly wiped my bank account out.
But Rowan’s right. I don’t have a choice. I’ve told him too much. I know too much—we know too much about each other now. This stupid clusterfuck of fate has us both in a chokehold and moving in with him is the best shot I have of staying safe and getting the money I need.
I’ll still have to work at the diner for the time being though. Even if we can pull off our planned heist and get top dollar for the paintings—an unlikely prospect—I still want to keep things looking like nothing’s ever changed. Any sort of sudden deviation would make us all seem suspicious.
I’m deep in one of the bottom drawers of my dresser, packing the clothes I can never seem to find when I need them when a knock at the door startles me. I look up, and Finn’s massive frame is filling the doorway. My heart flutters in my chest. The sweater he has on is tight around his shoulders and traps, making him look even bigger than usual, and when he sees me on my knees bent over the drawer he gives me a panty-dropping grin that takes the flutters up a notch to full-on palpitations.
“Rowan said you might need some help moving boxes. So I thought I’d come see.”
“Can’t help with boxes himself, can he?”
