McCoy (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 3)

"Okay," I agreed.

"I'm not trying to be a hardass," he said, misinterpreting my downcast eyes.

"No, you're not. Actually, just... having someone lay it out there for me is helping," I admitted. "I was getting too in my feelings about it."

"It's okay to be in your feelings about it. But maybe just follow her lead for now. Like getting her the rabbit."

"Right," I agreed, nodding, glad to have something to do to feel useful. "I can do that. Thank you."

"Stop thanking me," he demanded, ducking his head a little to give me some eye contact, letting me know he meant it.

"You're just going to have to get used to it," I told him, chin angling up a bit. "You and your biker friends."

"Brothers," McCoy corrected.

"Brothers. You will all have to get used to me thanking you. You helped me get my sister back. There aren't enough words in the English language for me to express my gratitude for that. So, I guess I can do so with food," I said, giving him a small smile. "My real skill set is nail art, but I can't imagine many of you want a full set of acrylics with fun, seasonal artwork on them, so food it is."

"We'd never turn down a meal," he told me, the muscles around his mouth twitching. Just a little.

It was a new goal in life for me to get a real smile out of the man.

It was the least I could do for him.

"I know you said you are going to stay, but if you need to go, I understand."

"I have nowhere to be," he said, shrugging, following me across the hall toward the bathroom. "Besides, I got my heart set on some lasagne now," he declared, eyes dancing a bit as I grabbed Max, and turned back to face him.

"Typical guy," I told him, clucking my tongue. "If you're not thinking with your... you-know, you're thinking with your stomach."

"My you-know," he repeated, leaning down a bit to give me a hint of a smirk.

There was something in his eyes right then that made my chest and belly flutter, that made my breathing go quick and shallow.

It was a long-buried sensation, one that I hadn't felt drudged up in so long that it took me a long second to place it.

Attraction.

And not just the kind based on looks.

I mean, yes, of course, McCoy was almost off-puttingly good-looking. But it was more than just appreciating his outward appearance.

The butterflies, the quick pulse, the uneven breathing, that was deeper than just liking the way someone looked. It was base, primal, something that couldn't be explained, like something inside you responded to something within them, some innate part of you that knew it would be good. If you know what I mean.

And, well, I hadn't "you know what I mean'd" in a really long while. I'd been too focused on my work at Lily's and then trying to build up a private client base in the hopes of being able to one day, some day, open my own salon. Belle and me.

ShyBelle.

"You good, babe?" McCoy asked, sounding close. When my head snapped back up, I realized he was. Close. Way, way too close. Close enough that I could smell the traces of soap still clinging to his skin, spicy and masculine. Which was not helping the whole attraction thing either.

"What? Oh, I, ah, yeah."

"You're the one who brought it up," he said.

"Brought what up?" I asked, feeling lost.

"My you-know," he clarified, making that fluttering thing start again.

"No! Well, yes, but also no."

"Yes, but also no?" he repeated.

"Well, I meant, you know, the collective you-know, not you specifically. Obviously, I don't know you well enough to know anything about how you think or what you think with. And I mean, like, maybe you're not even into women. Or into anyone. Plenty of people aren't into anyone. I mean, like, what I'm saying is—"

"That I flustered you," he finished for me, eyes bright again, like he found it amusing even if his lips still stubbornly refused to curve upward.

"Well, ah, yeah," I admitted since there was no use denying it.

At that, he nodded and moved back a step.

"Come on, let's check on your sister," he said, keeping a wide berth around me for the next hour or so while Belle snuggled and pet Max, starting to look a little more human as time passed.

She sipped her special drink and had a couple more bites of the protein bar before declaring it was "inedible" which led to McCoy ordering in Italian, and all of us eating in relative silence.

"Tired?" I asked when Belle caught herself nodding off for the third time.

"Yeah," she admitted, looking over at me with hooded eyes.

"Come on. I'll bring you to bed," I invited.

"That's your bed."

"Tonight, it is your bed," I told her, handing Max to McCoy as I helped my sister up, and lead her down the hall to my room, getting her into my bed. She was out cold before I even got her tucked in all the way.