has frosted windows,” I shared helpfully. “And there aren’t any windows in the walk-in closet.”
The bed was against the back wall.
He turned and looked down at me. “Do not go near those windows or the couches.”
My master was huge. I had a massive seating area for reasons that were mostly aesthetic, unless my nephews were up here messing around, which was usually right where they ran the minute they entered my house because it drove Jet crazy and my boys and me loved driving my big sister crazy.
Two couches faced each other over a coffee table made entirely of glass.
If I was in the mood, it gave me options for lounging and reading.
It gave Mo bad thoughts.
“I read a lot, Mo, and—”
“No window seat. No couches. Or we put up a sheet until this is over.”
I pressed my lips together and sucked them between my teeth.
A sheet would totally mess with my masterpiece.
“And you’re not in this room without clothes, ever,” he went on.
I let go of my lips and nodded.
“Not even just underwear,” he added.
That seemed OTT, considering.
“I strip for a living, Mo, and—”
“Not even just underwear.”
Okay then.
I nodded.
“I sleep on the couch.” And he tilted his head toward the couch.
Um…
Say what?
“I have a guestroom,” I pointed out.
“I sleep on the couch.”
“Won’t one of Hawk’s other guys—?”
“Just me.”
Okay.
Wait.
What?
“You’re not gonna…trade off or something?” I asked.
He shook his head.
Once.
I still got the negative.
“Well, uh…I don’t want to be telling you your job, but…is that the way it’s normally done?”
“Absolutely.”
It was?
I clearly showed my surprise because after I did, the Quiet Man gave me more words.
“Military. You train with someone. You bunk with someone. You breathe their air all day every day, they mean something to you. You could hate their guts and you’d still form a bond. They’re in it with you. They’re family. There are men…and women…who might rush into danger just to save a life. But there’s a big difference between instinct and already being in danger. Knowing your time could be up at any moment. And watching that grenade fall at your feet. Which is also at the feet of your brothers. Then throwing yourself on it knowing every man standing with you has the same exact thought to do the same exact thing because one might have to go, but that bond is so strong, you’ll die not to make the other ones have to break it.”
“You’re gonna need to throw yourself on a grenade for me?” I whispered.
“I need you to trust that I’d throw myself on a grenade for you.”
That was easy. I did that already. I mean, he was wearing cargo pants. And a gun.
And I could do it and he could sleep in the guestroom or have an afternoon off.
“I trust you, Mo,” I promised.
“You have no idea the meaning of the word trust, Ms. McAlister.”
“Lottie.”
He tilted his chin up this time.
“So, you have to sleep in the same room with me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“But you’ll be sleeping.”
“I require four hours of sleep a night, ma’am. And from REM to battle ready requires two point five four seconds. I don’t know what the time is to do that and get down the hall if you’re facing a threat. I just know it’s longer than two point five four seconds.”
Two point five four.
Exact.
“You’ve timed it?” I queried disbelievingly.
“Yes.”
Wow.
“When will you shower?”
“I don’t waste time when I shower. It takes less than five minutes. So I’ll shower with you in the bathroom with me and the door locked or I’ll shower while you’re dancing, when Smithie has his men on you. That is, if I feel the club is clear. If not, I shower with you in the room with me. Outside me taking away that choice, it’ll be your choice.”
He did not offer the choice of showering while I was showering in the same shower, which was a shame.
“Why don’t we, um…just play that by ear,” I suggested.
Back to dipping his chin.
“Do you need to go pack a bag or something?” I asked.
“It’s in my truck,” he answered.
“Okay,” I muttered.
His deep voice went low. “This will be done soon and I’ll be gone.”
Now who was a freak?
I was.
Because I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I still didn’t want it to end because I knew exactly one solid thing about this guy, the fact he was called Mo, and I didn’t want “this” to be done soon so he’d be gone.
“What’s your full name?”