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They were?
“Look at me, please,” he said firmly.
He might have said please, but that didn’t mean it was a request.
She turned in her seat. “This would be easier if you were sitting across from me.”
Crap, why did she say that? Sometimes these things just came out of her mouth without permission.
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want me to sit next to you?”
“No. I want that! I do! I just . . . why are you sitting next to me?”
“Protection.”
That’s all he said. Protection.
“Uh. From what?” She looked around. Everything seemed perfectly fine to her. Well, other than the guy sitting at the counter who was showing off a seriously hairy butt crack.
That was enough to put her off her food.
Hack grasped hold of her chin, turning her face back to him. “You always have to be on alert.”
She guessed that was probably true. Bad things could happen at any time.
“But—”
“Hush, Prickly Pear,” he told her.
Really? Prickly pear? She wasn’t prickly. Or a pear. Obviously.
“What is with all the food names?” she muttered.
“Focus, Greer. This is important.”
Oops.
She turned her gaze back to his.
“You took the slippers?” he asked.
She cringed. Uh-oh. She couldn’t handle going to jail.
Aidan had to—because of you.
Stop it.
“Actually, wait,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say that. Shit. Now I’m blurting stuff out.”
It was an affliction. Or a disease. And she was infecting him.
“Don’t worry about taking the shampoo and shit. As long as you didn’t take a blanket, TV, lamp, or something like that, then you’re fine. They expect you to take the slippers.”
Whew.
She hadn’t really stayed somewhere that flash before, so she hadn’t been sure.
“Although, those slippers are little more than bits of cardboard, so not sure why you’d want them.” He moved his hand down, around the back of her neck.
