Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

QUINN

I am woefully underprepared. I've been slowly packing a few things over the last few days, but I still have a good portion of my apartment to go, and the movers are set to arrive shortly.

I'm never going to be ready in time. As I look around at the piles of junk I have stacked everywhere, I can't help but think, Where the hell did I ever get the money to afford all this? Then I look at my stack of maxed-out credit card bills and remember, Oh, yeah. I didn't.

I sigh, tossing yet another bill to the side. I've been good about not spending money this last week, and not just because I've had to be since I'm living on my last paycheck from The Dock, but because I know something has got to give when it comes to my spending habits. I'm too old to be screwing around like this. I need to get my life on track and fast .

Flora is the key to all that. I had so much fun with her on Monday and can't wait to do it again. I never thought I'd actually be excited to babysit, but I am. She's full of curiosity and has that old-soul type of vibe that just makes being around her a delight. Plus, I love to make her laugh, especially because she seems like she could use it so much.

Hayes on the other hand… Well, I'm looking less forward to having to spend time with him. I wonder if he's always been so grumpy and uptight or if that's new for him. I could have sworn my brother mentioned before that he's a troublemaker, but I just don't see it now.

We discussed a little more of my duties, including him making sure I'm CPR certified—I am, thanks to my summer stint as a lifeguard—and me living there full-time and taking care of Flora when he's on the road and when it's gameday. On the other days, I'll be allowed to do whatever I want with no obligation to the kid. It's like I'm her cool aunt coming to stay for a while, only it's for the next seven months, and that's if they don't make the playoffs.

Then I remember how much he's paying me, and I tell myself I can endure anything for seven months, even if it means living with a guy who clearly doesn't like me.

I grab a pair of shoes—one of entirely too many— and examine them. They're black booties and can go with almost anything, but so can the other three pairs of nearly identical ones I already have in my keep pile. I toss them into the donation box before I have a chance to think about it anymore…then grab them right back out two minutes later because I just can't bear to part with them.

Small steps, right?

I repeat this process over and over, the donation pile staying eerily the same height while my other boxes fill up. I glance at the clock on the oven that's been taunting me since I rolled out of bed this morning. I only have an hour until the movers get here.

"Ugh, there's no way I'm going to get everything done."

There's just too much stuff to go through and only one of me. I need help.

A knock sounds at my door as if I've manifested someone on the other side. The only problem is I don't know anyone else except my mother, who is certainly still at the bakery at this point. She was overjoyed when I told her I accepted the job with Hayes, so maybe she decided to stop by anyway…

I toss aside the three purses I'm holding, then dodge piles of other stuff as I make my way to the door. I grab the knob, ready to pull it open, then pause. I don't know who could be on the other side. It could be my landlord here to harass me for more of the rent I still owe. Or a kidnapper. Who knows.

"Who is it?" I call out.

"The fucking milkman. Who do you think it is?"

Hayes?

I yank open the door to find him leaning against the frame. The first thing I notice is that he's huge. Like the taking-up-the-entire-doorway kind of huge.

The second is the backward baseball cap that sits on his head with a Seattle Serpents S stamped on it. I've never seen him with his rust-colored hair pushed back. It makes his eyes stand out even more.

The third thing is the tattoo on his forearm, one I haven't noticed before because every time I've seen him, he's been wearing long sleeves. I never pegged him for an ink guy, but I don't hate it. At all.

"What are you doing here?"

He holds up a roll of tape as if that's supposed to explain everything. "Moving you, obviously."

"Obviously? I didn't realize that was obvious at all. How did you even get my address?"

"You gave it to me."

"I—"

Crap. I did. Hayes had me write all my info down so he could give it to his "people"—whoever the hell they are—and we could make this job official. I never thought he'd use it for any other reason.

"Are you going to let me in?" he asks. "Or did you plan on spending all afternoon glaring at me?"

"I thought you were hiring a moving company."

"He did," a new voice says, and Hayes steps out of the way to reveal a familiar-looking face. He steps forward, extending his hand my way. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Fox. It's nice to meet you."

I shake his hand, noting his bright white smile, perfectly straight teeth, and amber eyes.

"Fox. You're the goalie, right?" He nods. "That save you made with your skate last season was incredible."

Not that I'd ever tell my brother I sometimes watch Serpents games when I'm supposed to be rooting for his team instead.

His cheeks flush, and he shuffles his feet.

" Howdy, ma'am. I'm Fox. By golly, it sure is awfully nice to meet ya ," another guy mocks with a roll of his eyes.

"I didn't even say howdy." Fox shoves the second guy, who barely stumbles.

He pushes him back and steps up with a grin. "Hey, I'm Lucas Lawson, but my teammates call me Lawless Lawson. We're your moving crew."

I lift my brows. "Lawless Lawson? Seriously?"

Hayes and Fox snicker .

"Shut up," Lawson growls. "Lawson will do just fine."

I roll my lips together, repressing my laugh. I wave them into my apartment. "Well, if you're here to move me, we better get started."

They crowd into my tiny apartment—which now suddenly feels infinitely smaller—looking around at the mess I've made.

"Um, so, did a moving company already come through?" Fox asks, his eyes wide as he takes it all in.

There are piles of clothes and kitchen items and stacks of boxes, but that's about all the heavy lifting there is to do out in the living room.

"Nope," I say, following behind them, snatching up an old bra and tucking it behind my back. "I've sold all my furniture over the last few days to pay my back rent, so it's just all this stuff, plus my bedroom and the spare room, which is honestly a lot more of this."

The guys all exchange a look.

"What?" I ask, not liking it one bit.

"You sold your furniture?" Hayes asks.

"Yep. Couch, TV, TV stand. Those went super fast on Marketplace. The kitchen table and chairs were a little slower but eventually went, too. Even sold my bookshelves for twenty-five bucks each."

His brows slant together. "Does that mean you've just been inviting strangers into your home? "

I don't like the way he's talking to me, like I'm Flora being reprimanded.

I lift my chin, crossing my arms over my chest. " You just brought strangers into my home."

"I know those fuckheads."

"Hey!" Lawson says, looking truly offended.

Fox just shrugs.

"That's completely different than just handing out your address to random people over the internet," he continues as if Lawson never said a word.

I want to kick him out. Or in the balls. I haven't decided which.

"That's just reckless and stupid and?—"

"Are you finished?" I interrupt.

"Excuse me?"

"Are. You. Finished?" I repeat, slower this time, just to make sure he understands me. "Because I sure am. I did what I did, and it's over now. So, if you're finished scolding me like a child, I'd like to get this place packed so we can get this reckless and stupid shitshow on the road, boss ."

The room is completely silent, not a single noise to be heard. Then Lawson bursts out laughing, his body doubling over as he clutches his stomach and howls.

Fox whistles lowly. "Pretty sure she just put you in your place." He claps Hayes on the shoulder twice, his grin wide. "Come on. Let's get packing. "

Hayes inhales sharply like he's ready to go another round, but to my surprise, he drops it.

"Fine. Where do you want us to start?"

I point to my bedroom, which is all packed and ready to go. All right, fine, so this huge pile out here is from my bedroom, but still. "In there. Everything can go in the truck."

"Yes, ma'am." Fox tips an invisible cowboy hat as he walks by with Lawson—who is still laughing—trailing after him.

Hayes stands there a moment, not moving and still glaring at me. I raise a single brow, letting him know I'm ready to go toe-to-toe anytime he is. I have no problem telling off people I care nothing about. It's probably why The Dock didn't want to keep me around much longer. If customers got rowdy, I let them have it.

It's the people I do care for that I have a little more trouble with, like my siblings or my dad and his disappointed glances.

But not Hayes. I have no problem standing up for myself when it comes to Hayes.

He takes three steps, closing the distance between us. His eyes look nearly white this close, and he smells faintly of cedar and something sweet—maybe my mother's bakery. He's so imposingly tall I have to tip my head back to meet his heated stare .

"When you're living with me, just try to remember my house isn't open to the public, okay?"

Then he brushes by me, marching into my bedroom and leaving me gaping after him.

And I wonder if I've just made a big mistake agreeing to move in with him.

The guys spend the next few hours moving the rest of my big furniture, then start clearing out the boxes I'm finished with. I'm so behind that they spend more time standing around and goofing off than actually moving anything.

I feel so bad I order them a few pizzas, which I refuse to let Hayes pay for even though he tries. I don't care if it is the last of the money I made selling my furniture—I'm feeding them.

"All right. What's next?" Lawson asks, hands on his hips after finishing his fifth slice of pepperoni and mushroom.

I severely underestimated how much these guys could eat. Only two slices are left, and I haven't had even one.

My stomach growls at the thought, and I realize I haven't eaten yet today. Or dinner last night. I've been saving all my money to get me by until I get my first check from Hayes, and I ran out of ramen noodles yesterday at lunch. Hell, I haven't even had my usual butterscotch candies.

"Well, let's see," I say, looking around the apartment and ignoring my hunger. I'll worry about food later. I want to get this done so I don't waste more of their time. "I'm almost done with these piles, then all these boxes will be ready to go. After that, we just have my spare bedroom, but that's where I moved all my most precious stuff so it didn't get crushed."

"Are those all clothes?" Fox asks, and I try not to notice the judgment in his tone as I hold up a shirt, weighing if I want to keep it.

I toss it in the keep pile, then grab another.

"You know, my sister started an online store this way. She had a ton of clothes she never wore, so she sold them all and made some good cash. I mean, I'm not saying you have to, of course. Just a thought." The goalie rushes the last part out.

"Thanks, I'll?—"

"Here." I look up from the blouse I'm holding—one that still has the tags—and am surprised to find Hayes standing over me. He's holding a napkin, a slice of pizza on top of it, and it's extended my way. "Eat."

"What? "

He shakes it at me. "Eat. Before these dicks finish it off before you get any."

"I only had"—Lawson counts the number of slices he's eaten on his hands—"six pieces!"

Damn. I was off by one.

"Are you sure?"

Hayes rolls his eyes. "I'm sure. I can hear your stomach growling over there. Eat."

I don't understand him. Just earlier, he was bitching at me for being careless, and now he's feeding me for the second time. I need this guy to decide whether he's going to be a jerk or not.

"Thanks," I mutter, accepting the pizza. It's cold by now, but I don't care. I'm too hungry to care. I bite into it and should be embarrassed by the noise that leaves me, but I'm not. It's the best thing I've had to eat in days. "Oh god. This is so good." I close my eyes on a moan, the pepperoni and mushroom flavor exploding over my tongue. It's not even close to my favorite kind of pizza, but right now, it tastes just like heaven.

When I drag my eyes back open, Fox and Lawson are already heading for my spare bedroom to get started in there.

Not Hayes though. No. He's staring right at me, his eyes narrowed just a bit and his nostrils flaring.

"What?" I sigh. "Is there a problem with the way I'm eating my pizza now? "

He doesn't say anything, just turns on his heel and marches out of the room.

Okay, weirdo.

I finish off my slice, then toss the napkin in the trash and sort through the rest of my clothes as the guys carry box after box from the spare bedroom. I used some of the money I earned from selling my furniture to rent a cheap storage unit for my things until I can figure out what else to do with them. I think it's going to be a lot fuller than I anticipated.

When I finally have the last of my wardrobe packed away—along with two massive heaps of things to be donated—I wander into the other bedroom to see how it's going.

"Holy crap," I say, taking in the nearly empty space. "You guys really cleared this place out."

"Yep. Almost finished," Lawson says, walking past me carrying two boxes.

"We'll be out of your hair in no time, ma'am." Fox's arms are just as loaded down as he makes his way from the bedroom.

"Would have been done even sooner if we didn't have to keep repacking boxes because you're not filling them enough." Hayes grabs a box labeled Books , then shakes it. "Like this. It's practically empty. We can add more."

The events of last night slam into me—me walking around my apartment packing up all my most embarrassing items and stuffing them into boxes so the movers wouldn't see anything I didn't want them to. My heart is no longer in my chest. It's in my throat. It's in my ears. It's making my head throb as Hayes pulls back the cardboard flaps.

"No! Stop!"

I rush forward, falling to my knees just inches away from him, but it's too late. I'm too late. The box is open, and he's looking down into it.

Right at my sex toys.

Time stands still and so do we, neither of us moving or saying a word. I hold my breath, waiting for him to do something, say something— anything ! But he doesn't.

He swallows once, then grabs a stack of actual books and sets them on top before quickly closing the box back up and rising to his feet. I stay there, on my knees, watching him go with all my special toys right in his hands. I can't quite decide what's worse—the fact that he didn't say anything or the fact that I definitely saw the outline of his cock.

And he was hard.