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Punk throws his head back, laughing. “Burn!”
“I never said I needed my own room. However, I should choose who I room with.”
Punk sobers. He looks stunned, pointing at himself as he mouths, “Me?”
I backhand him lightly in the chest. “No, you moron. I meant Butch.”
“Ah,” Punk muses, understanding. “For a moment there, I was scared. I wouldn’t put it past you to slit my throat in my sleep. You rooming with Butch makes way more sense.”
“The fuck it does,” Chase snaps at his best friend, his face turning an angry shade of red.
He’s butt-hurt, assuming I don’t want to be roommates. Truth is, I do, but I’m trying to take things slow with him. Rooming together is going to speed things along faster than I intend.
“The only roommate who makes sense is me,” Chase argues. “We’redating.”
More like his ego wouldn’t handle me bunking with another male. “I’ll room with Butch.”
“Hell. No. Don’t get me involved in your lovers’ quarrel,” Butch chides as he unties his bag from his bike. He makes quick work of it before striding inside the hotel to get away from us.
Silently brooding, Chase hauls my suitcase out of the SUV. I scramble out of the vehicle to take it from him, but he gives me the stink eye. “No woman of mine carries shit.”
Stubborn, cranky mule.
Punk comes up to my side, amusement in his voice. “What was that you said earlier about liking him growly?”
“Shut it, Moron.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
SIMONE
Day two of traveling is no better than day one. Reluctantly, I ride in the SUV with Punk the rest of the trip. It’s more of the same, passive-aggressive comments or sharing gossip to pass the time. By the end of the drive, we’re eager to get space from each other.
Chase booked reservations at the Kimpton Sawyer Hotel, a chic upmarket hotel a mile east of P.L. Moore Financial, in downtown Sacramento. It should make our commute easy while we work the case, but the cost has my eye twitching.
As the Mercy Ravens accountant, I’ve done the books long enough to know this isn’t the usual hotel accommodations the MC uses for security assignments—it’s double the expense.
I’m about to scold Chase for wasting company funds when I see him take out his personal credit card to pay for our room and the company card to pay for the suite the other guys will share. The expenses are a wash. But why would he pick this location when there are several cheaper hotels nearby?
“He wants to treat you,” Butch murmurs next to me, reading my mind.
Oh.How sweet. And unnecessary. Chase shouldn’t feel obligated to spend his hard-earned money on me when we’re not official. I’m more than willing to pay my fair share.
Determined to make things equal, I dig through my purse to find my wallet. Punk lays his tattooed hand over mine. “Don’t even think about it, Priss. You’ll insult him if you open your wallet. Let my brother do right by you.”
“It’s too much,” I rasp with exasperation. I’m not a kept woman—I pay my own way.
Punk shrugs. “The fucker is loaded. If he wants to make a dent in it, let him.”
Annoyed, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait to give Chase an earful. When he turns around with the biggest smile on his face, I stop short. He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “I know this goes against your independent nature, but thank you for letting me do something nice for you. A woman like you deserves to be treated like a queen.”
Well, fuck.How can I rip him a new one when he’s literally giving me a gift of luxury? “I’m only letting this slide for the night. The rest of the time, we go Dutch.”
He smirks, biting on his lip ring. “Sure, Numbers. Whatever you say.”
It’s a fair assessment to say Chase is going to make splitting expenses difficult.
After checking in to our rooms, Butch and Punk head out into the city for some fun—it may be a while before we can let loose again. I consider joining them, but after days of traveling, going out drinking doesn’t appeal to me.
