She took off her sweatshirt, mainly to keep busy while he took up space in the bedroom. A chill went up her spine. She hoped he hadn't noticed.
Glancing at him, she sucked in her breath at the awareness rolling off him. He noticed.
"Why won't you talk with me?"
She leaned her hip against the dresser and stared at the floor.
She couldn't ignore his presence in the room. Even when he wasn't here, his belongings surrounded her. His bed smelled fresh and clean with a hint of tobacco smoke to know he was around even if she couldn't see him. Random articles of clothes were tossed over the chair, making it unusable. A dozen shirts hung in the closet, and several boots in various conditions were thrown on the floor.
He hadn't prepared to rent out his room when he took her home. So why had he?
"Timber?"
She lifted her gaze. "Why did you invite me to rent this room?"
His left eyebrow lifted, put on the spot. She crossed her arms, determined to change the subject.
"When's the last time you've seen Dice?" he asked.
She wasn't going to let him talk about her dad. "Do you need money? Is that why you gave up your room to me?"
His gaze narrowed. "Does Dice know you're here?"
"Where are you sleeping?" She braced for the next question, prepared to keep going if he wouldn't drop the subject of her dad.
Romeo dipped his chin in defeat and stepped toward the door. "Sweet dreams," he murmured on his way out.
She waited for him to return and press her for more answers, but he stayed gone. After several minutes, she closed the door and sat on the bed. Why was Romeo so nice?
He acted hard, but he'd made sure she was comfortable in his room. He couldn't force her to see her dad, and there was nothing she could do to fight him on it. He was bigger and stronger. She wasn't gullible to believe he wouldn't use his strength to get what he wanted.
She sank down on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders rounded, and she let her chin fall to her chest. Once Clyde kicked her out of the truck, she should've hopped into another trucker's rig and kept going.
As if her thoughts pushed her into accepting her decision, she got back up and gathered her bag. Tomorrow, she'd leave early enough to be on the road before most people were out of bed.
She could move on with her life, knowing whatever bad decisions were her own. At least her mom and dad wouldn't be standing over her, blaming her for everything that went wrong.
Chapter Eight
Caleb walked through the door. Romeo set the bottle he'd cradled until the beer warmed past the drinkable point on the coffee table in front of him.
"Hey," whispered Caleb, throwing down his backpack. "What are you still doing up?"
"Can't sleep." He leaned back on the sofa.
"Go to bed." Caleb sat down on the other end of the couch.
"Timber's in there." He latched his hands over his chest and let his head fall back before closing his eyes.
Caleb chuckled softly. "A woman has never stopped you from sleeping in your bed before. Jesus, more than likely, a woman got you into bed. What makes this chick different? Not your type?"
He scoffed. "Far from it."
Everything about her turned him on. She wore her hair down when she wasn't working. The strands nearly brushed the swell of her ass. When the sun hit her hair right, it looked more red than brown. Like cinnamon on toast.
"She's young," he said.
He could tell the difference between a woman in her twenties versus one in her thirties with his eyes closed. Skinny, voluptuous, short, tall, it wouldn't matter. The young ones moved their body differently, and it had nothing to do with the younger age making them more limber. The more life experiences a woman gained, the more closed off she became. And that showed in the way she moved her body.
Fuck a thirty-five-year-old woman, and she knew what she was doing, and she had enough sense to protect herself from becoming too vulnerable too quickly. He liked that. It took some of the responsibility off him, and he enjoyed himself.
Someone younger, though? He exhaled deeply through his nose. A young one could fuck his brains out, holding nothing back, and never worry about heartbreak—until he sent her home. Young ones jumped into relationships faster than he could send them home when all he wanted was sex.
"Hell, man. I've been so fucking busy lately, I haven't had a chance to get my nut off for a couple of weeks. I'll go up and enjoy her if you don't want her," said Caleb.
The couch cushion shifted. Romeo swung his arm out and grabbed Caleb's wrist, keeping him on the couch.
"You're not to touch her," he said.
"Are you claiming her?"
"No."
"Then, fuck you. I'll have her tonight. Dick deep in a woman is better than sitting around, feeling sorry for yourself that your sex life sucks." Caleb jerked his arm away.
Wide awake, Romeo pitched forward, coming to his feet. Caleb looked at him. He glared.
Caleb's dimple appeared. "Where are you going?"
"Fuck you." He stormed up the stairs.
There was no reason for him not to sleep in his bed. There was plenty of room for both of them to get some rest. Hell, she wouldn't even know he was there. He had a king-size mattress—plenty of room.
Timber was a grown woman in a hard place with nowhere to live at the moment. She'd understand he wanted a good night's sleep. He was no use to Killere if he was running on empty.
He stripped out in the hallway, leaving his boxers on. Quietly opening the door, he walked across the room, trying to see in the dark. Making out a shape on the far side of the bed, he slipped under the covers and stretched out.
His body relaxed. There was nothing like lying down on his bed.
"Get out," whispered Timber. "You let me have the bedroom, remember?"
"Go to sleep." He laid his forearm across his forehead, closing his eyes.
"You're not sleeping with me."
"I plan on sleeping, not fucking you."
She scoffed. "I pay rent."
"Not yet, you haven't."
"I will." She paused. "I'll get it right now."
"You haven't been paid."
"You don't know that."
"I know everything that happens if Killere Motorcycle Club has their hands on it." He yawned. "Now, go to sleep."
The mattress shifted with her moving. "I'll sleep on the couch."
"Caleb's down there. He usually doesn't go to bed for a couple more hours." He rolled to his side, giving her his back. "If you plan on talking all night, start with why you wouldn't see Dice."
The bed moved. He looked over his shoulder and found her also turning her back toward him. He grunted in approval.
The threat of Caleb downstairs and having to talk to him brought silence to the room. He knew she wasn't going anywhere with a house full of men.
She might not trust him yet, but she trusted him more than his brothers.
Chapter Nine
Brody turned from the stove, spotted Timber, and lifted his chin. "Mornin'."
She pointed toward the sink. "I just came for a drink of water, and then I'll get out of your hair."