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“Oh, okay I’ll leave.” She moved forward, and he matched her step.
“Shit. No. You can stay, Riss, just fuck…” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Then back at her. “Look, Trev is sixteen.” He nodded his head and widened his eyes as if he was hoping somehow, she’d follow what he was saying. “He’s fucking young with only one thing racing through his small fucking brain.” He lifted his brows. “Ya feel me?”
Nope, not all. She had no idea what he was trying to tell her, though he was extremely passionate about it. She pursed her lips and scanned the room. “Not really.”
“Oh, fucking hell!”
Grady burst out laughing, and Caden dragged his hands down his face.
“Do I gotta say it?” he barked.
She wished to God she knew what the heck he was trying to relay. Her cluelessness only seemed to feed his fire. “I think it would be best.”
His face hardened, and she got the impression he thought she was goading him. She wasn’t. She bit her lip trying to follow everything he’d said. Trevor was young with a one-track mind. If she had to guess, she’d say sex, but how did that have anything to do with her? Did he think she was going to seduce his son? He bent closer, getting into her space.
“Put a fucking bra on,” he said through gritted teeth.
She raised her brows and slowly glanced down to her chest. With the heat in the room, she hadn’t even realized her nipples had beaded. They poked through her thin shirt, aiming straight at Caden.
Damn, now she understood what he meant. “Oh.” She looked up. “I don’t like wearing a bra.” As if her explanation would somehow simmer his anger. It didn’t.
“I don’t give a shit what you like. I got a sixteen-year-old kid who just left with a hard-on. He’ll probably be whacking off for the next ten days with your tits starring in his fucking dreams.”
She glanced down again at her top. Besides the outline of her nipples, not much could be seen. It wasn’t as though her T-shirt was see-through. “You can’t see anything, not really.” From the heated glare he was throwing at her, she knew Caden didn’t agree with her.
“Are you fucking serious? You got a skintight white shirt molded to your tits like a second skin, and your nipples are so fucking hard they could cut glass. I could give a detailed description to a sketch artist or fucking identify your tits in a police lineup right now.” He leveled his stance and turned to Grady. “Am I fucking crazy here?”
Grady snorted. “I might need another look if I’m going to have to identify them.”
“Shut up.” Caden turned back and glared at her.
“I’ll get my jacket.” She dropped her bag and bent down, pulling her sweatshirt out before pushing her arms through the sleeves. She stood up and remained silent as Caden eyed her. He didn’t speak another word. He stomped to his desk, grabbing a pair of keys, and averted his eyes away from her as he passed.
“Think he wants you to follow him, sweetie,” Grady said, clearly amused.
Marissa nodded and hurried to catch up with Caden. His steps were larger than hers, and the loose gravel in the lot crunched under the force of his boots. He was headed toward the apartments past the two-story building. There were six balconies, three on top and three on the bottom. Most of them had a single chair on it. The middle one on the first floor had a long planter on the railing.
He pointed to the right at the building. “Drake is upper right, Grady is lower, Micah and Kat are middle-upper, Lucy on the lower, and Dylan is over you.” He walked up the two short steps and unlocked the door. The balcony was more of a tiny porch. There was a resin chair with a plastic table and old ashtray sitting in the center.
Caden opened the door and walked in. The scent of pine and bleach tickled her nose, and her eyes teared up. It smelled clean. The room was small, with a ratty green couch against the wall and a battered table in front of it. A small TV sat on a wooden chest. The carpet was the same as the office, industrial beige.
Caden turned around and seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. “Kitchen is just a galley, but it’s stocked with some shit. Bedroom is this door.” He knocked on the wood door with his knuckles and then did the same thing to the next door. “Bathroom. Open the windows and don’t worry about night time. We got alarms and cameras everywhere, so it’s safe.”
She looked past his shoulder and saw a counter and fridge in the back of the apartment. She stepped forward and opened the door to the bedroom. It was just a bed with a dated comforter and one table with a blue lamp. The bed took up most of the room.
“There’s a small closet in there. Couldn’t fit a dresser, but you can use the TV chest for a place to put your shit.”
“Okay.” She shifted on her feet. “Um, can I ask ya something?” It had been bothering her since Dylan mentioned it in the truck.
He glanced over and jerked his chin.
“You’re not really going to hurt Mr. Rister, are you? I mean, Dylan said you were upset but,” she spread her arms, “I’m fine so…”
“Rister’s a piece of shit, but usually, I don’t bother with him. The way he spoke to you, yeah, now I gotta problem with him.”
“But you don’t have to…” She stopped in mid-sentence when his glare deepened.
“Yeah, I do, and I will.”
