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“Shh,” Arran chuckles. “Don’t be an ass. I’m not bothered by you seeing Isla. I find my ways to see her. I appreciate that you’re checking in, but I’m good. May I suggest that you stay at her house if you’re doing an overnight? People are nosy.”

“I was just thinking about that,” I admit.

“Oh, ah, don’t pull her hair under any circumstances.” Arran lifts the tattoo gun as he glances over at us. “It’s a hard limit.”

“Got it,” I say, refusing to blink as he meets each of our gazes.

“Good. Anything else?”

“Nope,” Ci says, pushing me. I agree with him. We may as well quit while we’re ahead. We exit the shop with a wave and jog for four miles, my thoughts plagued with what he said. Fuck, we were such goddamned dicks.

It’s a wonder that she’ll let anyone touch her hair ever again with all the trauma she has surrounding it. It’s another reminder that the past will definitely haunt you if you fuck up.

We’re taking Noor to a jazz supper club tonight. There will be little talking, a lot of touching, and hopefully some dancing. I’m driving us all tonight, and we’re standing on her porch as I knock on her door.

The gate is open and I frown as I see it.

“If she doesn’t answer the door in the next minute, call her,” Draven murmurs. The gate is always shut and locked.

Each time we take her out, one of us plans the date. This time, we did it together. Ciaran wants to dance with her, I need to feed her, and Draven wants to discover what kind of music she likes.

We could just ask her, but who hates jazz music?

San Diego has so many cool things to do for dates, I don’t see any of us running out of ideas.

The door opens, and I blink as I see Rachelle standing there.

“Mrs. Denton,” I murmur. “Hi.”

I’m not going to be dumb enough to ask why she’s here. Her schedule has always been flexible at the school. She works whenever she damn well pleases.

“Come in, boys. My daughter is having a clothing crisis at the moment,” she mutters. “She’s going to be a second.”

“Okay,” I murmur, coming inside. “Is this a crisis a man can help with, or will I make it worse?”

Rachelle stares at me for a long moment before she shakes herself.

“You really have grown up,” she mutters, glancing at Ciaran and Draven.

“There was no other choice,” Draven says, shutting the door. “We were worried about the gate being open.”

“It’s not always closed if Noor is home or she’s expecting someone,” she explains. “She’s been a little nervous today, so I jumped in the car to come to her.”

I hear a frustrated noise from upstairs and raise my brow at her.

“Go up,” she laughs. “One of you. She’s probably only half dressed.”

I jog up the stairs before she’s done speaking, planning to find my way to her. The house is in full Christmas spirit, and the banister is even covered in garland. It’s done in a way that it can still be used, which is good. Both Zayn and Noor will need it as they’re going up and down.

This house is also much bigger than two people need. There are several bedrooms up here and an open landing that I’m sure gets great light for Noor to work with.

“Noor?” I call out, not wanting to scare her. I knock once on the cracked open door before pushing it open.

She is wearing a strapless bra, underwear, and nothing else as she turns and sighs unhappily. Her hair is curled in beautifully and her makeup is done.

“You look stunning,” I grin, walking closer to her. “I think you may need one more layer of clothing. How about a scarf, baby?”

She bursts out laughing, but it’s a little bit hysterical.