Chapter 7

"How drunk are you?" I ask my sister.

"Why?" Not drunk enough that she doesn't know I'm plotting something.

"Don't let Paisley go home with you."

"What?" Her brows furrow together.

"She's going to need a place to stay, and you're not going to offer her one."

"Okay, I'm tipsy for sure cause I have no clue what you're talking about." June sits up straighter, her curiosity now piqued. She sips her drink while waiting for me to explain. I don't have fucking time.

"Trust me. I'll be taking her home with me."

"Whoa. Wait a second."

"June, you think I'd take advantage of her?"

"No." She laughs. "I'm just shocked you want to take a girl home. Been waiting for you to tell me you're gay for years now. I was gonna guess Blu was your man."

"Are you done?"

"For now." She smirks while taking another sip. "Is she in trouble?"

"Maybe."

"Seriously." June sets her drink down, getting serious.

"Not going to let anything happen to her."

"She's running, right?"

"Yeah."

"I kinda thought so. Living in a motel but got thousand-dollar Sophia Webster tennis shoes on." I don't know what the hell June is going on about, but I'm impressed with how observant she is. She should really pursue a career in law enforcement. She would make a killer detective.

"Sophia Webster what?"

June waves her hand. "All her stuff. It's expensive."

"Well—" I stop speaking when Paisley returns.

My eyes drop to those damn jean shorts showing off her full thighs. My mouth goes dry. The girl is shaped like a woman. Most of the women that run in the elite circles that she does are rail thin. I bet Paisley stood out in that crowd.

"I guess I'm ready," she singsongs. Her eyes are glassy. Good. That might make this easier.

"Your tips." Cole sets a pile of cash on the bar.

"Thanks." Paisley stuffs it down into her oversized bag.

"Come on, princess." I take her elbow, not trusting myself to touch her anywhere else. I've tried to keep some distance between us, but I always found myself leaning into her to talk, wanting in her personal space. Get another whiff of the sugary strawberry smell that radiates from her.

"Let me find my keys." Paisley starts digging in her purse, not paying attention to where she's going or who's around. A few groups of people are still lingering in the parking lot talking and drinking beers.

"Night, Jackson," I hear a female call.

"You're popular with the ladies." Paisley almost slips on the gravel, but I wrap my arm around her waist, gripping her hip. "Oops." A giggle pops from her. "You're handy. I'm always tripping. My mother says I have two left feet and no center of gravity. She swears if I lost a few pounds then maybe I wouldn't be so clumsy."

Irritation digs into me. I sink my fingers into her hip, loving how soft she is compared to me. "Don't think your mother knows what she's talking about."

"Don't tell her that." An adorable snort comes from her.

"Paisley!" Elliot, the owner and manager of the Crescent Motel, comes walking quickly out of the lobby entry. Perfect timing.

"We have an issue that is urgent. We need to get you moved out of your room."

"What?" She stops walking.

"There are some pipes leaking, and they need to rip out one of your walls to get to it."

"Right now?" She scrunches her nose.

"Yes, we had to shut the water off. They need to repair the leak and let everything dry out." I can't believe this is what Elliot came up with, but it's what I have to work with.

"Okay, do I move rooms?"

"I'm sorry, we don't have any other rooms."

"What?" She reaches over, absently gripping the front of my shirt. "But where will I go?" There's a hint of panic in her voice now, which I hate. I don't want her to feel scared, but the end goal justifies the means.

"There is a hotel in Benton."

"Isn't that like thirty miles away?"

"I've got her, Elliot." I cut in before he comes up with a worse lie, knowing if Paisley really thinks on it, she'll start asking questions. "Come on. Let's get your things."

"But—"

"I got you." Her bottom lip puffs out. I want to lean down and suck on it. The fuck is wrong with me? Controlling my desires has never been an issue. Not even when I was a teen.

She slips her key into the door. When I hear her sniffle, it's like a knife to my gut. At this moment, I know that I'll do whatever I can so she never has to feel this way again. "Princess, you're all right. You'll come home with me. I've got more than enough space."

"Home with you?" I reach down and finish unlocking the door for her, pushing it open. "You're a boy. I can't stay with you."

"Trust me, sweetheart. I'm not a boy." She peeks up at me. Her cheeks go that sweet pink again.

"Right." She moves her hand to my chest again.

Meow!

"Tigger! My baby boy." Paisley bounces away from me over to the bed, where a giant orange cat is stretched out, his ears sticking straight up. "Mommy missed you." She hugs the cat, and his loud purrs tell me he's enjoying every second of her attention.

I'm not getting jealous over a damn cat she's showering with attention and kisses. I'll use this opportunity, though. I start packing up all her shit. I can't believe she lived in this damn motel room for two weeks with a lock that a five-year-old could pick.

"Motherfucker." I grit my teeth when I lift the lid on a cooler and see all of her meds inside.

"Oh, I need to get fresh ice for that." She rolls off the bed, bouncing to her feet. Her tits sway with the motion.

"We'll put them in my fridge when we get home."

"Right." Her shoulders drop. "I can't stay with you. I don't know you."

"I'm June's brother." She chews on her bottom lip. I walk over and use my thumb to pull it out from between her teeth. "You're coming home with me where it's safe. I'm only down the road from my parents where June lives."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're the furthest thing from a bother, princess." A smile pulls at her lips. One that I swear could brighten any man's darkest day.

"You haven't had to live with me. Remember, two left feet."

"Remember I'm quick with my hands."

"They"re big." She grabs one of my hands, stroking her fingers across my palm. The sensation of her touch goes straight to my cock. For a second, I imagine how it would feel for those soft hands to be stroking me. Get it together, I remind myself. Now is not the time for this shit. I need to focus on getting her to my home.

"Let's get your shit together. I'll pull my truck over."

"Maybe—"

"No maybes. Pack it up. We're going home."

"Going home," she repeats.

Those two words turn my whole world upside down.