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Damn him.His voice is deep and honest—deliciously, so. But I stay strong. Straightening, I turn my back to the veranda and watch him remove an electric drill from his backpack—What? A drill?
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“These rooms are required to have chain locks. The maintenance guy I called last night—”
“Last night?”
“Said he would fit one to your room and your sisters’ rooms within seven days.” He presses the drill bit to the wall, leans into it, and starts drilling.
When he’s finished the first hole, he draws the bit out and blows inside the cavity to remove the wall dust. “Seven days isn’t good enough.”
He continues to work with the drill, the noise cancelling any potential to have a conversation with him.
Confused and trying my damnedest not to swoon—at all—over this unreasonable and controlling and caveman kind of action, I sit on the edge of the bed.
His presence here changes nothing.Goodbye.Good luck.Those words left me with a concrete impression. A virginityisa silly thing, and I’ll damn well die on this hill. I need a million dollars. And I know exactly how to get it.
Pulling out my phone, I go to my Cabi app and swipe to find past rides. I find my Beach-bum-Cabi-Man’s name and details—Mac.
White Mazda.
Covered in sand.
His name is Mac.
Sounds about right.
Thinking about Father Rabbit and our prison break scene, I request Mac for an hour from now. I’ve never done that before, but the Cabi terms and conditions state that he can accept or decline, and in the event that he declines, they will send me the nearest driver.
Seems fair.
I could be crazy.
Or ask him to commit a felony.
Like stealing public property.
The drilling stops and I look up, meeting Xander’s beautifully brutal gaze. He’s staring at me and sliding the heavy cordless drill into his bag.
Tugging the strap over his shoulder, he seems torn. He grips the strap hard with one hand, and the other he tucks into his pocket. His body is stiff, dark brows tight, and a message on his lips that isn’t quite rolling through them.
I understand that because I want to speak to him. Be honest. I feel magnetised, tugging at the seams to be closer to him, but I resist and resist.
Can he feel it, too?
I inhale courage and—
“I should go.” He nods. “I’ve got to do the others. Then I got to train. I’ve got a fight this weekend.”
“Cool.” I shrug stiffly. “Good luck.”
Ugh.
He groans, dropping his head through the sound. “Fuck. Just tell me one thing, okay? Did you light that fire last season?”
The question knocks me, but I nod stiffly. “Yes.”
He breathes hard. “Why the fuck would you do that, Kaya? Be honest with me.”
