?The bartending part and the warding off sleazy guys looking for a hookup. Not that I’m talking about you, brother of mine.” She smiled sweetly.
Kylee laughed again, then shrugged. “It’s part of the job. Believe me, Mr. Belt Buckle wasn’t a problem.”
“Guess things are a little rougher in Las Vegas?” Renata asked.
Kylee nodded. Rougher was an understatement. She’d learned how to fend off the more aggressive ones, physically if she had to. But it had been just as hard when she wasn’t working. The one time she’d stood up to Jesse, told him they wouldn’t work for him anymore, he’d kicked them out—onto the street.
What followed were days of hiding. Nights of bitter cold. And hunger so strong she hurt. She’d fed Shawn out of a dumpster more than a handful of times...before she’d gone back to Jesse and begged him to take them back.
Jesse had found the three of them a room in Miss Millie’s boardinghouse, but it wasn’t much better. The more drugs Jesse used, the more unpredictable he was. She and Shawn knew fear, fear of the unknown. Jesse was going to expect payment for taking them back...
She shook off the memories to find Fisher and Renata staring at her. “Sorry. What did you say?” she asked awkwardly.
“Thank you.” Renata’s gaze was thoughtful and assessing, but kind. “I’ll get these back to the table,” she murmured, carrying the two pitchers to the table the Boones inhabited across the dance hall.
“You okay?” Fisher asked, setting his beer bottle on the bar. “That jackass cowboy say something to upset you? Need me to chase him off?”
Kylee looked at Fisher, really looked at him. His gaze was so focused she felt lost. The longer he stared, the more off center she became. It unnerved her to see his concern for her well-being. Like he really cared about her...like she mattered to him.
She swallowed, holding on to the bar with both hands for support. He didn’t care about her, he didn’t know her. Why would he try to protect her? Didn’t he know she didn’t need protecting? She drew in a deep breath and said, “No. I’m fine. He didn’t do or say anything wrong. He was just being...friendly.”
Fisher’s brow furrowed deeply. “Not too friendly?”
Kylee shook her head. “Doc, I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Kylee.” He let out a slow breath, his eyes searching hers. “I’m just saying you don’t have to. There are other people here looking out for you, too.” He tilted his beer bottle in salute.
The thumping of her heart drowned out everything else. Jesse had said he’d look out for them. He’d made big promises, then left big injuries. But she was beginning to believe Fisher Boone was the kind of man who would honor his word, protect his family, and take care of those he cared about. The kind of man she wanted Shawn to grow into. The kind of man she’d dreamed of finding—but would never deserve to have.
Chapter Five
“It’s a closet,” Kylee argued.
“We don’t have anything to put in it,” Shawn argued. “So why can’t I use it as a bedroom?” She and Shawn hadn’t collected much stuff over the years. If it couldn’t fit into one of their backpacks, they didn’t need it.
Kylee peered into the closet. It was a decent size, she supposed. And there was a small window in the top. Why there was a window in the closet, she didn’t know. A clothes rod ran along the length of it, but there were no hangers or garments stored here. All of their clothes fit inside the large chest of drawers in the main room.
“It is a closet.” Shawn agreed. “Or it could be my room.”
Kylee wiped at the smudge of paint on his forehead. They’d spent most of the day painting the dark wood paneled walls a nice yellow-buttercream color—the only color on the discounted paint shelf that she and Shawn had agreed upon. Their little studio had gone from dark and dingy to—almost—light and airy. She turned, assessing the work they’d done. The apartment was clean but bare.
At one end of the apartment was a wall of cabinets, a stove and a banged-up white refrigerator that hummed loudly but kept things cold. The only furnishings in their apartment had been there when they moved in. There was a worn, but comfortable, leather sectional with a reclining end chair that Kylee slept on each night. The large chest of drawers and double bed were behind the sectional, wedged into a corner. Shawn slept in this makeshift bedroom...and now he wanted to sleep in the closet.
“What will you sleep on?” she asked.
“I don’t need to sleep on anything.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Kylee sighed. Shawn didn’t complain. Not about their regular diet of ramen noodles, peanut butter crackers and cereal. He never said a thing about needing new clothes or the hole in his shoe, being left alone while she worked, the odd hours they kept or being lonely. Now he wanted his own room—even if it was a closet. Why not? “You can sleep here—”
Shawn did a fist pump and called out, “Yes!”
“But not until we get you something to sleep on. We’ll look at the rummage sale,” she finished, watching his enthusiasm deflate. “And we should see about getting you a fan in there so you don’t get overheated.” She peered inside. “There’s no air in here.”
Shawn laughed. “No air? Guess we’ve come a long way from when we were with Jesse...” He broke off, shrugging. She knew he was imagining some of the places they’d slept and lived. She was, too.
And she hugged him close as he said, “Things have changed. For the better.”
She nodded. “I agree.” She glanced at the clock and released him. “But we better hurry or we won’t have time to go to the rummage sale before I have to go to work. You need a shower,” she teased, poking several dots along his nose and cheek.