She left the door open behind her and I stepped into a spacious living area with an open kitchen and a dining nook that looked out over Main Street. It was homey, with plants lining the windowsills, serene landscapes in old frames on the wall, and a comfortable-looking sofa and chair that faced a modestly sized TV.
“I’ll have to work,” she said. “During the next ninety days, I mean.”
Jagger picked up a framed photograph — Cassie smiling into the camera between two dark-haired girls — on one of the end tables. “At the coffee shop?”
Cassie nodded. “I have help, but I can’t just disappear for three months.”
“You’ll be able to work,” Hawk said, leaning against the counter in her small kitchen.
I opened the fridge to inspect the contents, picked up a container of orange juice, checked the date.
Not expired.
I put it back and removed a plastic container, then peeled back the lid.
Lasagna.
Cassie stalked across the room and snatched the container from my hand. “I didn’t give you permission to snoop in my fridge.”
“I didn’t know I needed permission.”
“It’s only polite.” She put the lasagna back in the fridge and closed the door.
I scratched my head. “Yeah, I stopped doing polite a while back.”
“Well, maybe you should start again.” She looked at Hawk. “So if I can work, will I be able to get more of my things from my apartment? Will I be able to… visit?”
Hawk lifted an eyebrow. “To visit your apartment?”
Jagger turned to look at her. “You can visit when you come to work. You won’t be a prisoner."
“I’m just trying to figure out how all this works.” She looked around. “This is my home.”
I felt the unfamiliar stirrings of sympathy. And it wasn’t that I didn’t care about other people. It was just that my curiosity usually overrode everything else. Now I realized that Cassie was sad and scared: sad to leave her cute little apartment and scared about what living with us would be like.
“You’ll stay with us when you’re not working,” I said. “You’ll eat meals with us. Live with us. Sleep with us.”
I stopped myself from sayingfuck with uson account of the whole virginity thing. She’d seemed kind of sensitive about it.
But there would definitely be fucking. All kinds of fucking with all kinds of toys.
“Can I see my friends?” she asked softly.
“Within reason.” Hawk’s voice was cold.
Jesus fuck he could be a hard-ass.
“What about…” She hesitated. “What about Bram?”
It was a fair question, because Bram Montgomery was going to go absolutely batshit when he realized his little sister was our Hunt girl.
I was almost looking forward to it.
Hawk’s jaw tightened. “We’ll handle Bram.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll get my things.”
17