Another boundary to cross, but I wait to see what he thinks of that idea. I don’t see how it’s any different to falling asleep in his arms on the couch with a comforter over us, but that’s his choice to make. I don’t want to invade his personal space, but I also don’t want to be alone. Not after tonight.
“Why don’t you go have that shower, and we’ll talk when you get out.”
Typical of Sawyer to change the conversation, but I’m used to it. I take a handful of chips and hand him back the bag. “Fine, but save some of them for me.”
“There are spare towels in the cupboard underneath, and I’ll find you one of my shirts to wear.”
“Such a gentleman!” I call back, smiling to myself. I truly do have the bestest friend in the entire world.
I’m not gonna lie. Every time we kiss, it sends a thrill through me. I know it shouldn’t because we agreed a while back that going there would be bad on all fronts. Not just dealing with my overbearing cousins, but the fallout because we work together. Let’s face facts: I can’t makeanyrelationship work, much less one in the same workplace. Things get messy.
Let’s break it down: we’d inevitably bang, then awkwardly pass each other in the office every day. Neither of us are cut out for the one-night thing, and relationships are my crisis point. So our
agreement, after months of flirting, was to hang out.
We’d just be friends. Christ knows I need a few of those, and it hasn’t escaped my attention that Sawyer is a loner, too. I find meeting new people awkward. I’m outgoing, sure, but I always seem to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Brew’s ol’ lady, and my co-worker, Erica, is fantastic. She’s pregnant so Brew is more attentive than ever. We’ve become friends even though she’s not quite old enough to be my mom, but is mom-like in every sense of the word. Well, maybe notthatold, but close enough. The MC ol’ ladies are the closest thing I have to a family who cares about me. My own mom and I have a difficult relationship. I’ve never been good enough in her eyes. I quit expecting her to be proud of me a long time ago. I know I’ve not given her much to write home about, or proud of to be honest, especially after my stint in jail. Which brings me back to Sawyer's comment earlier.
I went to jail. It was only for thirty days and it wasn’t even my fault, but it was long enough. I took the heat for my ex, and since it was my first arrest for possession —it was his stash— they let me off with good behavior. I’ve never taken drugs in my life, willingly that is. Let’s just say Bobby was one to slip substances in my drinks, and coerce me all the time when I refused to get high with him. I thought I could change him, but it ended up changing me.
I push the bathroom door open and smile at the cast-iron tub with a shower over the top. Sawyer found the tub in a junkyard and cleaned it up. He’s good like that, real handy for a computer nerd. Though I’ve never seen a computer nerd that looked like him with his baby face good looks and sweet as pie smile.
I turn the tap and the pipes groan. This is an old building, but you’d never really know it aside from the industrial feel with the overhead exposed beams and vaulted ceilings. Sawyer has spent all his spare time making this place liveable, and it’s paid off. It’s got character. The place is small with one bedroom and a tiny space he uses as an office. The open lounge/kitchen/dining is simple but quaint, and Sawyer has put his own personal touch on everything. Next, he wants to sand the floors and polish the concrete, but that’s a pretty colossal task.
I peel my clothes off, my eyes widening when I see my face in the mirror. My god. I look like Harley Quinn, and not in a good way. My hair, for some weird reason, is like a bird’s nest. I blame that on the motorcycle ride. Being on the back of Sawyer's bike spells freedom. I love anything dangerous, but with him, I always feel safe.
I quickly grab the soap and wash my face. I cringe a little because it’s not my usual cleanser, but it’s gonna have to do. Sawyer clearly doesn’t have makeup wipes, so I get my eye makeup off by tugging a sodden tissue under my eye. I then reach into the cupboard where Sawyer keeps a pink toothbrushfor me. Yeah, I’ve stayed over before when I’ve had too many drinks to drive home safely. My drinking has been better lately, but tequila is always my downfall.
I brush my teeth, then step into the shower, adjusting it til it’s the perfect temperature. I wasn’t planning on washing my hair, but it smells like smoke and that’s just fucking gross.
Sawyer doesn’t have salon shampoo, but it’s gonna have to do. I need my pink ends touched up. The only thing about having pink hair is it fades fast. I have an ombre effect going on: blonde at my roots halfway down my back, then strawberry blonde through the mid-lengths, and finally a vibrant pink on the ends. I’ve always had thick hair, and while that’s great, I curse because there’s no blow dryer, and my hair doesn’t dry quickly.
I grab the bar of soap from the holder, inhaling the scent. It’s some kind of spicy, intoxicating blend that has my lower belly on high alert. I don’t know what that is all about, but I sigh when the warm spray hits me, the water soothing my aching bones.
I felt scared tonight. Really fucking scared, and now Sawyer is gonna want to talk about it. I don’t like keeping things from him, but maybe the stuff about Bobby I could’ve left out.
I don’t even think it was him. It was dark. What I do know is there was a man watching me from the corner of the bar, and no matter where I was in that building, he seemed to position himself right where he could see me. I shudder at the idea. After what Bobby did to me last time, I know he’d kill me if he ever found me. Even if he knows where I am, I doubt he’d have the guts to set foot in New Orleans knowing my cousins are part of the MC. If that’s my one inch of protection against that monster, I’m taking it.
I don’t enjoy hiding out, but staying at Haze’s place when I first arrived was a safe haven for me after getting out of jail. I never want to go back there again, and after tonight, it has onlyreiterated that I seriously need to change the things I’m doing and the people I’m hanging with.
It was a wake up call.
I just hope I was delusional and that man at the bar was just enjoying the view.
If I ever see Bobby again, I’m gonna shoot him dead.
CHAPTER
THREE
Sawyer
“You didn’t,” Nova says, padding across my floor, following her nose.
I left my t-shirt outside the door so she could grab it easily. I silently curse because I had no fucking clue she’d look likethatin a faded Guns n Roses t-shirt with her bare legs on display. Granted, the shirt falls just above the knee so she’s covered, but then I’m reminded she has no underwear on under there and my dick twitches.Jesus.
I roll my eyes, not before handing her the plate. Strawberry Pop Tarts. Her favorite.