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The door clicked behind him, and she uncovered the first dish, stomach growling again as she saw the plate of toast and eggs. She salted the eggs and sat on the edge of the bed, the tray before her, and picked up the fork.
“If he’s anything like Bradford, you’re not going to want to give up that dick.”
“Or Livingston.”
She nearly spit out her food but managed to swallow it. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed. “I’m not going to get a break, am I?”
“Nope.” Her sisters spoke as one.
Violet shoved another forkful of eggs in her mouth and took a bite of the wheat toast.
Figured.
* * * *
It was barely six-thirty when she jogged up to the front door of Welcome Home. The door swung open as she was reaching for the handle, and she stepped back, hand curving around her pack’s strap to keep it from sliding free.
It was one of the new residents. She gave him a smile and said, “Good morning, Mr. Levenston.”
The man glared at her, his long hair covering one side of his face. She knew he did that on purpose to hide the scarring. He clasped his jacket closer to him as he walked by.
“You are too chipper. It’s early in the morning. Don’t you have a husband. Or are you one of those new women who prefers other ladies?” He stopped across from her.
“I mean, I was going for a good morning but hey, I’ll take it. I prefer men. Are you interested in applying for the role?”
A flash of red hit his cheeks before vanishing in the weathered wear of his skin.
“No.”
She rocked back on her heels, lower lip sticking out. “Oh, well, that’s depressing.” Violet slid her hand along her strap. “Care to reconsider? I mean, I’m not horrible to look at, I do cook. I have to admit, not a lot, but I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich and bowl of soup.”
“I lived on the street and I could make something so simple when I lived in a tent. I can cook better than that.”
She smiled at him and slid closer. “Fantastic. What are we having for lunch then? I’m excited.” Head tipped to the right, she bit the inside of her lower lip to keep from laughing. “What can I bring? How about a drink?”
Mr. Levenston shook his head. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“Our lunch. I love to eat about noon, but you tell me what works best for you. While you’re cooking our meal, we can talk about Evan.” She patted his arm. “I’ll come to find you closer to then.” Stepping to the entrance, she tugged the door open. “I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Levenston. Have a great day!”
An exhausted-looking Paul met her in the office. Concern replaced her joy, and she slipped her bag from her shoulder. “All good, Paul? How was last night?”
“Cops were called.”
Her bag hit the ground with a thump as she waited for him to continue. The man just looked at her.
“What? I’m going to need more than that. And why are you staring at me like you’ve never seen me before?”
“Looking for possession signs on your body.” He waggled his eyebrows before shimmying his black-leather-clad hips. “Then again, perhaps they’re in a much more private area.”
“Imma need you to stop doing that now. And I have no mark of possession on me at all. Get back to the cops.”
He sobered. “Right. The cops.”
* * * *
Finishing his set, Hastings dropped the bar in the rack, took a deep breath and rose to a sitting position. He may have not been in the field for a bit, but his instincts were still spot on.
“What are you fuckers doing standing there lurking?”
Livingston leaned against the wall, ankles crossed and a towel draped over his shoulders. Bradford wore a pair of running shorts and shoes, his body covered in sweat.
“Waiting for you to finish.” Bradford walked closer, bent down and picked up Hastings’ towel and proceeded to use it to wipe the sweat off his own body.
“Really? You couldn’t bring your own towel?”
“Could.” He shrugged. “Didn’t.” Bradford tossed it back at him, and Hastings dodged it so it hit the floor.
“Why are you staying here?” Livingston walked over to a stack of towels and picked one up. “You could be in a penthouse.” The towel Livingston had just lifted was lobbed to him.
Hastings caught it and wiped off his face. “I don’t need a penthouse.”
“Liv, you know he’s not going anywhere while his woman is here. Not any more than you would let Daisy stay at a separate hotel from you.”
The eldest Rhodes brother grunted.
“I’m here to find out about Evan,” Hastings said. “That’s it.”
Both brothers snorted and rolled their eyes.
“Fuck you both.”
“Let’s go,” Livingston said, still shaking his head. “There was an incident last night at Welcome Home, and I have no doubt the senator is going to use it to his advantage.”
