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“I appreciate you asking, but this isn’t an I-licked-it-so-she’s-mine situation.”
“Cool.” Something metallic—a key ring?—clanged over the line, followed by the sound of his big-ass truck starting. “Then I’ll just mosey over there and—”
“Hold up. I wasn’t calling you about Casey.”
“Oh. Sorry, man. I assumed… What’s going on?”
Matt didn’t want to mention anything over the phone. Who knew if the Pershings had been tracking Madison or if they had the kind of long arms to demand the NSA monitor everyone she knew. Plus…he was a selfish bastard. He wanted a night alone with her, even if it led nowhere and did nothing but torture him with what he couldn’t have. “Can you stop here in the morning before you head into the office?”
“Sure. Do you need me to bring something?”
Your balls, because you’re going to need them. Everything in Matt’s gut told him that what Madison was running from was big. “Just be here.”
“You got it. I’ll stop by before seven. Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Have a good one.” Nash hung up.
Since Matt could still hear the shower running and the bacon sizzling, he took the opportunity to rifle through Madison’s backpack. He’d wash her clothes, but first he had to ensure she hadn’t foolishly brought along anything traceable. All he found was four thousand dollars in cash tucked deep in one pocket and a burner phone. No ID, no wallet. Good. She’d been smart. More than likely, she’d paid attention to the time she’d spent with Trees, who swore up and down that he’d never fucked her…unlike the guy’s bestie, Zy. Sure, whatever she’d done with his teammates was old news and water under the bridge and whatever other clichés existed for something that shouldn’t matter anymore.
Matt hated how much everything she did still mattered to him.
Gritting his teeth, he shoved all her clothes into the washer, tossed in a pod, and slammed the lid shut. As he returned to the kitchen to plate her bacon and pour her scrambled eggs into the hot pan, the bathroom door opened. He swiveled around to find Madison padding toward him on bare feet in the twenty-sizes-too-big clothes he’d provided, her nipples poking the front of his shirt. She clutched the plastic bag filled with her things tightly.
He swallowed back a tsunami of hot lust. “Food’s almost ready.”
After setting the bag on the nearby island, she wound her wet, shoulder-length hair into a disheveled bun and secured it with a clip. “You didn’t have to cook for me.”
He huffed as he whipped up her eggs. “I’m not going to let you starve. Sit.”
When she settled onto the nearest barstool, he set a steaming plate, a napkin, and a fork in front of her. “Sorry there’s no toast.”
“You probably don’t keep bread in the house since you don’t usually eat carbs. I remember.”
Because she retained random information…or because he’d actually mattered to her three years ago? “Black coffee, water, or light beer? That’s all I’ve got.”
“Water, please.” She lifted her fork and picked at her eggs as he fetched a glass and set it in front of her. “Matt—”
“Eat. While you do, I’ll ask the questions. All you have to do is nod or shake your head.”
“Okay.” She bit into her bacon.
“Does anyone else know you’re here?”
Madison nodded.
“More than one person?”
She shook her head, forking in some eggs.
“Good. The fewer who know the better. Is this someone you trust?”
A quick nod.
“With your life?” he clarified.
After a split-second’s hesitation, she nodded again.
