Excitement made me turn to face him completely. “You want to get a pleco?”
“You aren’t ever home,” Kieran put in.
“I’ll feed it for you when you’re gone,” I volunteered.
“My man,” Ghost praised. Well, I guess it was praise. Who knows?
Kieran wrapped his arm around my middle and pulled my back against his front. “He’s not showing you anything. We’re leaving.”
“I’m staying here like we talked about,” I told him. “I’m not scared to stay with Ghost. I’m fine.”
“Then why are you squirming around?” Kieran asked.
“Because you bought me these jeans and wouldn’t let me put on the new boxers with them,” I bemoaned, yanking at the crotch. “Have you ever worn jeans without underwear?”
“That’s just asking for a rash,” Ghost quipped.
“You cannot wear boxers that haven’t been washed,” Kieran said as though he hadn’t already given me that lecture when we left the store.
After what happened at the impound lot, he wouldn’t let me go back to my place. But I couldn’t wear his old sweats and dress shirt to work. That was ridiculous. So he took me to a nearby store to grab a couple packs of boxers, some jeans, and a few basic T-shirts.
“These jeans haven’t been washed either, but here they are, rubbing all over my?—”
Kieran cut me off with the sharp bite of my name. “Hazard.”
Heaven forbid I say dick in front of Ghost.
“The seam is uncomfortable,” I announced, leaving them to each other as I went into the back room to look for a Neon Reef shirt. I was pretty sure I had one stashed back here from when I used to go straight to my job at the Blue Orchid. Excuse me, myformerjob.
“Ah-ha!” I sang, finding the black shirt. I set it on the small round table and pulled off the new T-shirt, draping it over a chair.
Kieran was behind me, glaring like I was stripping for cash, and when Ghost walked in, he legit growled. Like a beast.
Ghost cackled and went back out into the store.
I tugged the work shirt on, and Kieran sighed. Reaching into the black trench he wore, he pulled out a pair of orange boxers with purple eggplants all over them. “Here.”
“Why do you have my boxers in your pocket?” I asked, eyeing the fun print.
“Well, I wasn’t going to leave them in the car for perverts to see them through the window.”
I made a face. “Aren’t the windows tinted?”
Turns out that car we’d been driving around in was Kieran’s. He was so rich that he stashed a Jaguar at a random parking garage in case he ever needed a getaway car.
I mean, I would say it was a hitman thing, but it’s not like it was a Honda.
“Perverts don’t care about window tint,” he grumbled.
“Yes, because they have X-ray vision.”
His face pinched. “Do you want the damn things or not?”
I unbuttoned my pants and dropped them in two seconds.
Kieran acted like a bomb had gone off, shooting across the room, his coat flapping dramatically behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared.
“Putting on my boxers.” I glanced down. “Pretty sure I already have a rash.”
