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I shake my head. “It’s not that. I feel bad.”
“About what?”
“You’re single… technically. I didn’t mean to take you off the market and ruin all your fun. That could be you over there. I saw the girls with their eyes on you at the farmers market today before everything went to shit.”
“Did you?” He grins, and I wish I could take it back because my comment probably makes me sound jealous. “You’re not ruining my fun, Harloe. I’ve got too much shit going on right now to worry about dating.”
Except for the fake kind, apparently. And just because he doesn’t have time to think about dating doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking about sex. I doubt anyone could ever be too busy to get laid. I appreciate his attempt to ease my guilt either way.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch Shane move about the room.
He peels off his cut first, hanging it neatly over a chair in the corner as always. He slips off his boots, then stands tall and pops his knuckles.
Shane is levelheaded. Calm and composed in just about every situation. But the more time I spend with him, the more I see the stress pulling at his expression. The more I notice the microscopic signs of his exhaustion.
Lanceleaf has caused him nothing but problems since he arrived. And if he is here under orders from his president back in Vegas, then I can’t imagine the pressure on him to sort it out.
“Why did you come here?” I ask, and he pauses at my question. “I’m assuming you had a choice to accept or not. And you must have known the situation in Lanceleaf before you arrived—what happened with Jackson.”
He nods.
“Why make this your problem, then? It sounds like you had it a lot better in Vegas.”
Shane sighs, dropping onto the bed beside me. His hands rest behind him so he’s leaning back, his leg brushing mine.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m here or there; it only matters what the club needs. Steel, my president, wanted someone he could trust. I promised not to let him down.”
“Who runs this place when you’re done? When you leave?” The last word is nearly a whisper because I hate to think about it, even if I have no right to catch feelings.
“The other guys are staying around, so maybe one of them if they’re ready. Maybe he’ll bring in someone else. I guess Steel will figure it out then.” He avoids my gaze. “It will be a while before that.”
A while, but not forever. It doesn’t matter how comfortable I’m getting having Shane around. This isn’t his home.
I pop off the bed. We should not be having this conversation, and I should not care what Shane does after his clubhouse is built. I have enough on my plate without adding a man to the mix.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth.” I force a smile, and when Shane opens his mouth as if he might say something, I rush into the bathroom and shut the door.
I don’t need reassurance. I don’t need lies. I know what I got myself into, and I can handle it.
By the time I’m done getting ready for bed, Shane is still awake, lying on top of the comforter. He doesn’t say anything as I climb under the sheets while he goes into the bathroom to get ready.
When he comes back out, he pauses by the door like he’s considering leaving tonight. I almost tell him I don’t want him to go, but I’m tired of chasing people who don’t really want me, so I keep my thoughts on our sleeping arrangements to myself.
Shane’s fingers pause on the handle. It twists fractionally before he moves to the lock instead and secures it, climbing into bed. His foot kicks past the halfway point, nudging mine.
“Sorry.” He pulls back to his side. “Cold feet.”
“It’s fine. Cold feet are better than people who sleep with their socks on.”
“Who sleeps with socks on?” Shane asks with disgust.
“People I don’t understand. Just like people who let their arms and legs dangle off the bed while they sleep. That’s wild behavior.”
“Because the monsters under the bed might get them?”
“Obviously,” I say, even if he might be mocking me. Either way, it cuts through the tension when he chuckles. “How long do you think East and his friends are going to go at it?”
I roll onto my side, facing Shane.
