Sinful Protector (Roughshod Rollers MC 2)

“Come in,” I offer. “I’ll make some coffee and you can dry off. Then you can tell me what this is all about.”

“No, thanks,” Kyle says politely. He’s still staring down the hall intently. “I’ll stay here.”

It’s way too early for this. I really should just leave him here.

But I can’t.

“You can keep a better look out inside,” I coax him, and that attracts his attention. “You’ll be able to see who comes in and out of the apartment, and see what they’re doing in there.”

He considers this for a long moment. Then he gets unsteadily to his feet and nods.

“Okay,” he said.

Good, he’s not going to argue anymore. I shuffle him inside, still not entirely sure that I’m doing the right thing, and lead him to the couch. He doesn’t protest as he sits heavily and fixes his gaze on my front door, so I go to the kitchen and flick the switch on the kettle, yawning widely.

“Coffee?” I offer.

“Please,” Kyle says with a nod.

When the kettle boils, I set about making two cups of coffee, keeping an eye on Kyle. He doesn’t move at all, though, slumped against the couch while he stares at the door.

He’s really serious, isn’t he? He’s actually worried about Jesse appearing, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t get into my apartment.

I carefully carry the cups over the low table and put them down. Only then does Kyle move, leaning forward to pick one up.

“Thank you,” he says.

He’s obviously drunk. I’m not used to someone being so polite under the influence of alcohol, however. Though maybe Kyle’s thing isn’t to get angry, but to fixate on something with a single-minded determination.

Which is probably why he hasn’t even glanced at me in my nightgown and robe.

Not that I want him looking at me.

I clear my throat and hurry away to grab a towel out of the cupboard. When I return, Kyle is shrugging out of his leather jacket and dropping it to the ground. It had been open, so the white shirt underneath is also soaked through, and my mouth goes dry as I stare at the way it clings to his muscles.

He doesn’t notice so I cough and throw the towel at him.

No! I scold myself.

I make myself comfortable in my armchair and watch Kyle as he runs his hair dry before wrapping the towel around his shoulders.

“So?” I ask when he picks up his coffee again. “What’s all this about, then?”

“Jesse,” Kyle says promptly.

Apparently, he also doesn’t like to explain himself properly when he’s drunk. This is going to be like pulling teeth, I can just tell.

“Yes, you said that,” I say with all the patience I can muster. I think it’s impressive that I have any patience at all, considering what time of night it is. “But why are you so worried about Jesse?”

“He’ll come here,” Kyle explains.

No, that doesn’t explain anything at all.

“Jesse doesn’t know where I live,” I tell him.

I hope.

“No, he does,” Kyle argues. “He said so.”