“Their restaurant stays open until one and they don’t get home before two in the morning. It’s too noisy for me to get any sleep, that’s why I moved out in the first place. Plus I don’t want to worry my mom.” She turned to face me, eyes dull but steady. “So yeah, motel.”
That was unacceptable. “Stay here,” I demanded in a tone that made grown men lose their shit.
She laughed, actuallylaughedin my face. “You barely tolerate me now, and now you want me to move in?”
“I didn’t say move in,” I muttered. “I said stay. For now. Until this shit gets sorted out. It’s safer.”
She crossed her arms, mirroring my stance. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I admitted, figuring it would help her make the smart decision.
Something like shock crossed her face. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah, damn right I am.”
Her brows knitted. “Why?”
That was a good damn question. Why did I want this to happen? “Why stay in the motel when there’s room here? And a kitchen. And my sparkling personality.”
“All valid points,” she shot back with a grin.
“I know. And even better than me, this place costs nothing.”
Her shoulders fell. She was caving. “I don’t want to get under your feet. You only tolerate me because I’m helping Zoya.”
“Look, I don’t mind you being around. I’ve gotten used to you.” That was as close to the truth as I wanted to get. Because over the past few weeks I realized I actuallylooked forwardto seeing her in the mornings and our verbal sparring before she left at the end of the day. “And if you agree, I’ll tell you about Zoya’s mother.”
“Seriously?” she asked on a heavy sigh.
“Yep.”
Eliana finally nodded, her moves slow and deliberate. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll stay.”
Relief hit me like a gut punch. “Good,” I said, turning away before she could see how much that one word meant.
Behind me, the coffee maker gurgled. Eliana’s soft hum, that little tune she always seemed to have under her breath, started up again and for the first time I agreed with her.
This wasn’t going to end well. But all the in-between shit might be pretty fucking amazing.
Chapter Eight
Eliana
“You don’t play fair,” I muttered, glaring at the enormous biker leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb between us.
Sledge’s mouth curved into a faint smile, and holy fucking shit, Ireallywished he hadn’t. When he smiled like that, sexy and playful, that scar on his cheek made him look less dangerous and more devastating. It was criminal how good looking a man could be without even trying.
“No,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I don’t. So?” His brow arched, a definite challenge.
I licked my lips before I could stop the movement, but my eyes flicked to his mouth, and it was like I couldtastethem. Big mistake. “So, you need to pay me thirty percent less if I’m going to be staying here. I can’t take your money and eat your food.” The words tumbled from my lips without thinking, but it was a fair trade.
He shrugged, accepting it easily. Too damn easily. “Fine. After breakfast, we’ll go get your stuff from the motel and bring it back here.”
He was entirely too bossy, which was expected since he was my boss, but it was too much. I rebelled, folding my arms and holding myself straight as if I wasn’t at all flustered—or turned on—by this bossy, demanding side. “I’ll do it today after my shift ends.”
He raised his brows. “Your shift?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “You know the job you hired me to do? When you get back, I’ll gather my things and bring them here.” Well, the few items that the police allowed me to take. Everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t even told my parents about the break-in yet. They were going to freak out and insist I move back home even though we all knew that was impossible. Staying with Sledge and Zoya was the better option, but only by a sliver.
