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“Yes.” She plucked a piece of toast from her plate and took a bite.
“Were you lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?”
“A drink.”
“Nothin’ else?”
Her eyes burned a hole into the side of his face as he concentrated on the mug in his hand.
“Like what?”
He almost shrugged but caught himself in time. “What’s normally at a bar?”
“Booze?”
“And company.”
“Wasn’t looking for company but found some anyway.”
He twisted on the stool and put his mug down. “Yeah? Anyone I know?”
“Trip, Stella and Dodge. Ozzy also did a drive-by. I’m not sure who the woman was who was glued to his side.”
“Maybe Lizzy.”
“Don’t know and don’t care. That’s his business. Just like where I went last night was mine.”
“Just worried.”
Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You worried?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Were you worried I’d hook up with some random dick and if he killed me and chopped me up into little pieces, you wouldn’t have anyone to help you?”
A muscle in his jaw popped. He tried to conceal his rising irritation with sarcasm. “Yeah, Jemma. That’s why I was fuckin’ worried.”
“No reason to worry about me. I’ve been on my own a long time. And I don’t do random one-night-stands.”
“Good. ‘Cause it was bad enough at Dutch’s. Don’t want strange comin’ in and out of this trailer.”
“Oh, suddenly Mr. Let-me-knock-up-an-Amish-girl has morals?”
“Ain’t about me, it’s about Dyna.” That was both the truth and a lie.
“Of course it is.” She shot him a big smile he didn’t like. “Don’t worry, if I decide to slide down some strange dick, I’ll do it elsewhere.”
“Just said you don’t do randoms.”
“They’re only considered random the first night. The second night they’re not so random.”
He curled his fingers around his mug and took a much needed, calming breath. “Jem—”
“How about if you don’t worry about my sex life and I don’t worry about yours?”
“That’d be best.” Not really, but it would have to be for now.
“Okay, then,” she huffed.
“’Kay, then.” He popped her last piece of bacon into his mouth and carefully slipped off the stool. “Gotta get ready for work or I’m gonna be late.”
Without looking back, he went in his bedroom, carefully put on his socks and boots, slipped a belt through the jeans’ loops and snagged a shirt out of his stash of old T-shirts he wore to work. Once they got a hole or became threadbare, they moved to that category.
Once again, he had a hard time putting his arms through the sleeves without excruciating pain, so he left it hanging around his neck and headed back out to the kitchen.
Not only was his baby helpless to get dressed, so was he.
But, hey, at least Jemma was a lot better looking and smelled a lot better, too, than his previous help. Before moving into the trailer, he’d had to get whoever was available in the bunkhouse or The Barn to help him. And that had been a little weird. Just being that close to another man alone proved he’d never do a threesome or a train with any of his brothers.
No fucking way.
But now Jem was here and could help him with his shirts and his boot laces, if he needed it.
Which he did.
Even better, it was a great excuse to get close to her again. Especially with her only wearing that damn T-shirt. It barely covered her long-assed legs and when she had sat on the stool, it had inched up even higher. He’d actually gotten a couple glimpses of the pink panties she wore.
He’d never wanted to lift a pair of panties to his nose and inhale a woman’s scent so badly before. It was so fucking weird. He didn’t have any kinks, so he was never into sniffing women’s panties or clothes, or even hair.
But there was something about Jemma that made him want to do that. Like if he inhaled her, she would be inside him and a part of him.
It was the strangest goddamn thing.
One, she was off limits. Judge had been crystal motherfucking clear about that.
Two, he didn’t want to do anything stupid and lose her help with Dyna.
And three, it could get really fucking awkward since they had to live together—even temporarily—in the trailer.
The best thing for both of them would be if he stuck to his side of the mobile home and she stuck to hers. They could just meet in the middle when dealing with Dyna.
He stopped in front of her, where she was scraping the plates into the now empty garbage bag he’d used to carry the food over from the bunkhouse.
She looked up and without a word, placed the dishes in the sink and turned toward him. He only hissed twice with pain as she helped him get his arms into the sleeves. Once she did, he pulled it the rest of the way down his torso.
“Can you get my laces?”
