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“You do. It’s adorable.”
“Ugh, can you please stop talking now?” I climbed out of bed and slipped on an oversized pink sweater on the way to the bathroom.
I shoved my sleeves to my elbows, splashed water on my face, and stared into the mirror. “What the hell are you doing?” I whispered to my reflection. Waking up pressed against Brandon had felt sublime. And that he’d somehow halted my horror-show nightmare by holding me was something I didn’t care to examine too closely. Most of all, I hated how much I wanted to be back in bed with him. My expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter if you want this. You can’t have it.”
Returning to the room, I found Brandon working at his laptop, still shirtless, but wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that sat low enough on his lean hips that it was obvious there was nothing beneath.Lord help me. This would be a long day if he didn’t put more clothes on.
He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms while concentrating on the screen.
Hold up a minute.
“What are those?” I pointed at the black-rimmed glasses he wore.
“What? These?” He adjusted the frames.
I nodded.
“I need them sometimes when I use the computer all day.” He frowned. “You’re staring at me weird. Do they look dorky?”
I blinked fast. “Yes.”
No.They did not. When you put a hot guy in glasses, he didn’t become dorky. He became impossibly sexier, and that was so not fair.
“You won’t have to be seen with me wearing them outside this room. I only use them when I’m working.”
“Good.” I made a tight-lipped smile and folded my arms. “Have you run out of clean shirts?”
He glanced at his bare chest, then back at me. “No.”
“Then use them,” I snapped.
“But…I thought you could cover my stitches first. Do you mind helping me?” He pointed to the scissors, tape, and a square patch of gauze laid out on the desk.
I sighed, letting some of my unjustified anger wash away. “Of course not.”
Getting snarky with Brandon was unfair, but it was easier to be mad at him than to want him. Sometimes I didn’t like this defensive person I’d become. Except I didn’t know how else to deal with the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me in Brandon’s presence. How the hell was I supposed to survive being stuck with him in this hotel room for an entire week?
I had to suck it up because there were bigger issues. Like dealing with Dante and keeping our asses alive. If I focused on that, perhaps it would distract me from the rest.
“Any news on the police investigation?” I asked, reaching for the scissors.
“They’re still processing the scene. It’ll probably take days, if not weeks. Nothing that points to us yet.”
I cut a strip of tape. “What about Dante?”
He shook his head. “Still holed up in his fortress. Must be shitting himself with Shep on the loose.”
“Shep killed Dante’s uncle and barely got out of Vixens alive. Won’t he leave town before they come for him?” I secured one side of the gauze and cut more tape.
“Not likely. The Mob pissed Shep off when they sent guys to snoop around his property. And they declared war when they captured him and his girl. He won’t let that slide.”
“Can Shep do that? Take on what’s left of the Wolf Street Mafia?” Which must still be a significant number. They hadn’t all been at the club when the carnage erupted, and plenty had fled the scene.
“He’ll absolutely go after those who’ve given him reason to or are hell-bent on avenging their boss’s death. As for the others, if they’re smart enough and leave Shep alone, he might let them live. At the end of the day, all Shep really wants is to be left in peace.”
I secured the last piece of tape and stepped back. “There. Finished.”
“Thank you.” He rose and headed toward his suitcase.
