flirty manwhore.
Hunter quickly recovers from being startled and grins at me. “We are. Are you impressed?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’m not really into modern day music.”
"You like classic rock, then?" Hunter muses with a thoughtful expression.
I nod. "Yeah, my dad was into…" I stop myself. Jesus, was I just about to talk about my dad with them? My dad who I killed. I don’t deserve to talk about him. “But anyway, yeah, I like classic rock.”
Hunter smiles. “I bet we could learn how to play a few songs for you.”
I just shrug, not wanting to let myself get caught up in this whole “friendship” thing with them. Not when I know it’s not going to last.
Looking away, I step further into the room, highly aware that all of them are watching me.
“It took you forever to get changed,” Hunter says in a teasing tone, as if he’s trying to lighten my mood. “For a second, I thought I was going to have to come in and check on you to make sure you didn’t need any help getting dressed. Which, FYI, if you ever do need help getting dressed, I’m your guy.”
“I’m sure you are.” I inch farther into the room, my gaze skimming across the paintings on the walls … No, not paintings. Photos. Beautiful ones of places I’ve never been to, of lakes, of cities, of trees shedding their leaves. Of life. I wonder if Hunter took these? “So, whose house is this anyway?” I ask, tearing my attention off the photographs.
“Ours,” Hunter is the one to answer, lifting the brim of his glass to his lips.
“So, you all live here?” I ask, and he nods, lowering the glass. “Okay, but who technically owns the house?”
“Us.” Hunter slants forward, sets the glass down on a table in front of him, then pats the cushion between him and Zay. “Come sit down so we can talk. There’s some stuff you need to understand.”
I scratch the corner of my eye. “Can’t I just stand over here while we talk? I can hear just fine right now.”
“Yeah, but it’s so much more comfortable over here.” He pats the cushion and gives me a come-hither look.
I forcefully smash my lips together as laughter tickles my throat. “Yeah, but it’s so much closer to the door over here.”
Huffing out an exhale, Zay rises to his feet and strides across the room toward me.
As he nears me, I instinctively take a step back at the fire blazing in his eyes. I expect him to try to pick me up and sling me over his shoulder when he reaches me; however, he gently takes my hand.
“Just come sit down so we can get this over with,” he grumbles, leading me to the sofa then pulling me down with him as he plops onto the cushion.
Hunter slants forward to look around me and at Zay with a twinkle in his eyes. “You okay, man?”
Zay gives a nod. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Hunter elevates his brows then gives a pressing look at Zay’s and my interlocked fingers.
Zay immediately jerks back like I have cooties then scrubs his hand over his head, looking away and muttering, “Can we just get this over with? I have other shit to do tonight.”
And I guess we’re back to him being irritated then.
“You really are the moodiest person ever,” I remark, sinking back on the sofa.
Zay’s gaze cuts to me. “And you’re the most stubborn person ever.”
I shrug, crossing my legs. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“How about this?” He rotates on his seat and brings his knee onto the cushion while sliding his arm across the back of the sofa right behind me. “You, princess, have officially made your home in a town full of mobsters.”
“I already told you I’m not a princess …” I trail off as his words register and my eyes widen. “Wait. Mobsters?”
Zay’s lips kick up into a smirk, clearly pleased with catching me off guard. “Yep. The town is full of them. There are five main ones all crammed into this lovely, little place you now call home.”
“Well, I guess we’re just going to jump into this then,” Hunter mumbles from beside me.
Zay keeps his gaze welded with mine as he tells Hunter, “Might as well. It’s not going to be any easier if we try to ease her into this, like you suggested.”
“Not everyone is like you, Zay.” Hunter reaches for his drink. “Some people actually feel things other than disdain and anger.”
I want