I set down my tool belt and pull my henley over my head in one smooth motion. The cold air hits my bare chest, raising goosebumps across my skin, but I ignore it. I hold the shirt out to her.
"Here."
Jessica stares at the henley. Then at me. Then back at the henley.
I'm suddenly very aware that I'm standing in her bedroom, shirtless, offering her the clothes off my back like some kind of caveman who just discovered chivalry.
"Carlos..." Her voice is soft. Uncertain.
"Just take it," I say, stepping closer and pressing the warm fabric into her hands. "You're freezing. I can see you shaking from here."
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the henley, and the contact sends electricity sparking up my arm, lighting up nerves I didn't know existed.
She stares at the shirt for a moment longer, then disappears into the hallway. I hear the bathroom door close with a soft click.
I stand there like an idiot, bare-chested in a flooded bedroom at four in the morning, trying to get my breathing under control.
This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just half-naked in your ex-best friend's ex-girlfriend's bedroom. Totally normal contractor behavior.
When she comes back, she's wearing my henley.
And oh God.
It's too big for her, hanging to mid-thigh, the sleeves dangling past her fingertips. The grey fabric brings out the warmth in her skin, the gold in her hazel eyes. My scent is all over it, until I can barely think straight.
She looks like mine.
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs.
"Better?" I manage to croak out.
"Better." She wraps her arms around herself, swimming in the excess fabric, and smiles. Small and shy but real. "Thank you."
"We should talk about where you're going to sleep tonight."
Her expression shutters again, the smile fading. "I can take the couch downstairs."
"The couch is forty years old and has a spring that pokes you in the kidney," I say, moving to pick up my tool belt. "I know because I've slept on it multiple times and woken up with bruises."
"Then I'll take my parents' room."
"The one that shares a wall with the bathroom that just flooded? The one that probably has water damage seeping through the plaster right now?" I shake my head. "Not safe, Jess."
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again, her shoulders sagging.
I press my advantage, taking a step closer.
"The packhouse has heat. Running water that isn't about to explode. A guest room with a real bed and clean sheets and a door that locks from the inside." I pause, watching her carefully. "And four alphas who will make sure Callum never gets within a hundred feet of you."
Her eyes flicker at that last part, and her scent spikes. Not with fear.
"He was here earlier," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yesterday afternoon. Circling the house. Nacho ran him off, but..."
"But he'll be back."
"Probably." She wraps her arms tighter around herself. "He doesn't give up. Once he decides he wants something, he doesn't stop until he gets it."
The way she says it makes my jaw clench. Makes my hands curl into fists.
