“Quiet, Boozer,” she orders without opening her eyes.
I knock on the window again. No sense in being gentle. Her dog is already awake.
Sloane’s eyes fly open. When her gaze lands on mine, she slams her eyes shut.
“Sloane,” I call.
She shakes her head.
I chuckle. “Are you pretending you can’t see me?”
“Maybe.”
“Roll down your window.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
“Too bad. I don’t want to talk.”
“Sloane,” I growl.
“Fine,” she huffs and rolls down her window. “What do you want?”
I lift a brow. “What do I want? Are you seriously asking me what I want?”
“You knocked. I assume for a reason.”
“Why the hell are you sleeping in your car?”
Her hands shake as she places them on the steering wheel. “I was falling asleep after my shift. I thought I’d take a little nap before driving home.”
I point to the backseat, which is filled with boxes and suitcases. “Are you moving somewhere?”
Her eyes fall closed and she drops her forehead to the steering wheel. “Yes.”
“Where are you moving to?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I growl. I have a sneaking suspicion I know what’s happening here. And I don’t like it one bit. “Are you living in your fucking car?”
She throws her arms in the air. “What business is it of yours?”
None. But I’m not letting her sleep in her car. I’m not an asshole.
“Follow me home. You can stay with me tonight.”
“Boozer and I are fine here.”
She shivers and I notice she has goosebumps. “You’re not fine, and I’m not arguing about this.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t argue then. Just go away.”
“You have two choices. You can come home with me.”
“I am not going home with you,” she snarls.
