“I told you those Alpha Omega guys had a reputation,” Serenity told me smugly. “They’re serious business. As for the other rumor . . .” She trailed off and looked back at West appreciatively. She all but licked her lips as she ogled him, and if my dad hadn’t been holding on to me just then, I might have attempted—and failed, because I was seriously injured—to rip her hair out by the roots. “Seems they live up to that one too.”
Dad’s arm around me contracted just a bit, drawing my attention. “Catching the eye of an AO man is no small thing, Starshine,” he told me with a proud smile, like I’d just made a perfect score on the SATs, or found the cure for cancer, or successfully pulled the biggest con in Ryan family history. “He can most definitely keep you safe.”
“I’m not staying with him!” I announced petulantly. “For God’s sake, I barely know the guy. We’ve met each other exactly twice!”
“Don’t worry, grift,” he said, giving me a wink. “I’m a really good judge of character. I know you’re good people.”
“Obviously you aren’t,” I clapped back. “Because both times we’ve run into each other, you’ve witnessed me picking someone’s pockets. The fact you have zero problem forcing a known thief to stay in your home is the very definition of bad judgement.”
“Wait, he busted you? You?” Spence asked, his voice holding something that sounded an awful lot like awe.
“Seems my baby girl’s finally met her match,” Mom said dreamily, clasping her hands at her chest.
“For the love of all that’s holy,” I groaned, “Fuck my life.”
Fourteen
Stella
I was once again sitting in the passenger seat of Weston Scott’s truck, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. I had a duffle bag filled to near splitting with clothes in the back seat thanks to my mom and Serenity insisting on “helping me pack.”
“I like your family,” West said into the quiet of the cab, pulling me from my muddled thoughts.
I turned to look at him in the lights of the dash, mystified by his announcement. “You like my family? You know we’re all criminals, right?”
He shrugged casually. “Meh.”
“Meh?” I asked in confusion. “Meh? That’s all you have to say? The first time we met, you were doing a job for the cops.”
“I was working that job because I can do things the police can’t.”
My brow furrowed. “What does that even mean?”
“We’re good at what we do because we don’t necessarily adhere to . . . every law out there.”
“Huh.” Well I hadn’t been expecting that. “I guess that explains why you were so cool with the whole, catching-me-stealing-dudes’-wallets thing.”
“Well, that and the dress you were wearing the first time I saw you.”
I let out a bark of laughter that sent a stabbing pain through my middle. “Oh my God, don’t be funny right now. It hurts so bad.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, a smile in his voice. He didn’t sound sorry at all, but instead of being annoyed, I actually found this whole conversation endearing, which was a problem in itself.
“You know, I still think you’re crazy for this,” I told him, trying to hold on to that even though it wasn’t true anymore. I wasn’t sure when my mind or feelings changed, but the longer I found myself in his presence, the more I was drawn to him. Staying at his place was the worst decision ever, but in my defense, I technically wasn’t the one who made it. My whole family had drunk the Weston Scott Kool-Aid and basically strong-armed me. Mom and Serenity packed while Dad and Spencer practically threw me into his passenger seat—all while Jason looked on from his own car in the parking lot, wads of tissue stuffed up his nostrils as he looked on like a sad, lost puppy.
I didn’t know what all my mom and sister had packed for me, I hoped they hadn’t forgotten anything crucial, like a toothbrush and deodorant.
“No, you don’t,” West announced. How he managed to sound confident in that statement without coming off cocky was beyond me. But damn, did he pull it off. “You want to think that, but you don’t. That’s what you’re struggling with.”
I turned on him, my mouth gaping and eyes wide. “Are you a freaking mind reader or something?”
“Told you I was a good judge of character, grift. What makes me good at it is that I can read people. Had you pegged the moment you walked into that hotel bar.”
Why the hell did I find that Jedi mind whammy he had going on so freaking sexy? It was the concussion. It had to be. My brain had been knocked around so much it was a soupy mess inside my skull, preventing me from thinking rationally.
“That’s it. No more talking. Let’s make the rest of this trip in silence.”
“Works for me,” he said while flipping on his blinker and turning into the driveway of a nice two-story townhome in a new, expensive-looking complex. It was a million times better than the one I lived in. He stopped the truck as the garage door began to lift, looking over to give me a disarming smile. “We’re here. Looks like I can talk again.”
Smug bastard.
I meant to keep my expression pulled into a pout, but I was too eager to see where he lived to keep up the façade. “This is nice,” I said as he slowly started pulling his truck into the attached two-car garage.
He let out a low chuckle while shifting into park and turning off the engine. “You sound surprised. What were you expecting?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a dead front lawn and weeds? I mean, you have flowers,” I said, perplexed. “And shrubs. I guess I didn’t see you much as a landscape guy.”
That smirk returned, sending a tingle through my belly. “The complex has a service that maintains the lawns, so I don’t have to get out here and do it myself. Trust me, if I were responsible, the yard would look how you imagined. With my job, I don’t have a lot of time for that kind of stuff.”
He climbed out and rounded the hood to my side. Instead of fighting him on it, I stayed in place and waited for him to pluck me out of my seat. There wasn’t any point to arguing, he’d just get high-handed again, but also, I really wanted to be carried around by him. It made me feel so small and dainty, and he smelled so damn good!
“I get that,” I told him once I was safely tucked in his arms. I leaned in discreetly to sniff his chest. “I guess I’m surprised that a single guy in his . . .” I trailed off, giving him a chance to fill in the blank.
“I’m thirty-six.”
So three years older than I was. That was the perfect age gap. Damn it, Stella, I silently berated, this isn’t a date. I picked my sentence up where I’d paused it. “A single guy in his mid-thirties would have a place this nice and big. I figured you’d basically be living in a bachelor pad.”
He opened the door that led inside as the garage door whirred back down, and what I saw upon entering had my jaw dropping. “I stand corrected. You do live in a bachelor pad.”
The place wasn’t dirty, per se, but it was cluttered, and that clutter was everywhere.