The winds have picked up, the sky an ominous shade of grey as the winter storm moves toward our area. Mia agreed to my date, but practically kicked me out afterward, telling me to return tomorrow to pick her up for lunch. Smiling on the way to my truck, I think of all the things I want to do with her. And I mean that in more ways than just sexual.

When I first stepped into her little house, it felt more like a home than any place I’d ever been. There was nothing fancy about it. Hell, she wasn’t lying about not owning much, not even a TV, but with the scattering of throw pillows, pictures and little trinkets everywhere, there was love and warmth hanging on every wall and sitting on every end table. If she could achieve that in such a small space, I can only imagine what she can do with mine.

I step to the curb waiting for a large power truck to go by, but it stops at Mia’s driveway. The passenger hops down from the cab, putting on a pair of thick work gloves as he walks up Mia’s driveway. I watch, curiously as he rounds the side of the house until I realize what he’s doing. Shutting off her power.

My feet are in motion, fists curling in anger as the rage sets in before I think better of it. “What are you doing?” I ask the guy as he’s opening the meter box.

“Do you live here?” he asks, looking around the open panel door.

“No, my girlfriend does,” I lie. Mia specifically said we’d go on one date and that you can’t be someone’s boyfriend without dating first. I agreed, not knowing the first thing about dating. I’ve never been on one. My dates never required dinner before I fucked them in some random bathroom or the back of a bar.

“Maybe your girlfriend should have paid her bill.”

“Can I pay it now?” I reach for my wallet.

“Sorry pal, we don’t take payments. You’d have to talk to the office.”

I slide my phone from my back pocket. “What’s their number?” I ask, prepared to dial.

He shakes his head. “They’re closed. We’re running behind because of the winds,” he mutters the last.

“What kind of asshole are you to come out after hours and shut off someone’s electricity, knowing a storm is coming?”

“Just doing my job, man.” This seems to be the excuse everyone uses when they’re doing something shitty to a person. Maybe if I kicked his ass right here behind these bushes, being a professional fighter, I could say I was just doing my job.

“Could I pay you something to forget this address until Monday?” I ask, opening my wallet.

“Man, I have benefits and retirement with this job. Do you know how uncommon that is in today’s world? I’m not taking a bribe at the risk of losing all that.” He shakes his head in disgust.

“Isn’t there some rule about doing this with a storm coming?”

“I get the work order and do my part, asshole,” he mutters the last under his breath as he flips something and the heating unit that was humming falls silent. My fist ball up, the idea of doing my job returning, but I take a deep breath, thinking of the boys, that endorsement contract with all those digits. An idea sparks in my mind and I quickly walk to the front of the house, realizing this may work in my favor.

Mia is stepping onto her porch, her eyes focused on the power truck that sits at the edge of her driveway as I come from the side. The power company guy is a few steps behind, but keeps walking to his truck.

Her eyes shift to mine, a pink tinge of embarrassment sweeps over her beautiful face. I climb the few steps, walking her back inside and closing the door.

“Pack a bag. You’re coming home with me.”

“Chance, it’s okay. I’ll call the power company and get it straightened out. My check must still be in the mail.”

“That asshole told me the office is closed. It’s already less than forty degrees out there. It’ll be that cold in here by nightfall and well below freezing by morning. Pack a bag.” I stand firm. If she thinks I’m letting her stay in this freezing ass house, she’s out of her fucking mind.

“But Chance, my stove is gas. I can use that to heat—”

“Mia, I’m not saying this again. I may have let you in, showing you a side of me that no one sees, but don’t mistake that for weakness. I’m not leaving you here to heat your house with a gas stove.”

Her gaze drops sheepishly before she nods and disappears to the corner to where her bed sits. She pulls a bag out from under the bed and throws it on the mattress, avoiding eye contact as I study her every move. She’s cute as hell as she rummages nervously through her drawers and I have to fight myself from going over, running my fingers through her hair and kissing the hell out of her.

“You better pack enough for a few days,” I say. She stops mid-step and her eyes meet mine. I shrug. “You never know what this weather is gonna do.” Pink fills her cheeks before she turns toward the dresser, flinging more clothes out and tossing them in her bag. Remind me to never have her pack for me.

She disappears into the only room with walls and I miss watching her. She’s intriguing to me, in all the ways that are rare and dangerous.

She steps out a few minutes later, tossing a small bag into the larger one and zips it up. She tugs at the handle and I race the ten steps it takes to carry it for her. She looks up, those fucking light brown eyes dancing, assessing mine before she smiles bashfully. My eyes fall to her pink lips and I have to fight—really fucking hard—against the urge to pull her close and kiss her right now.

“Is this all you need?” I ask, lifting the bag, knowing we’re not there…yet.

“I need to get something from the kitchen.” She looks at me longer than necessary and I feel that tug in my chest that I felt last night in that parking lot and again this morning when she stepped onto the cold front porch. She’s so vulnerable, but so fucking strong at the same time. She finally steps away and I follow. She opens a drawer and grabs a small pouch of pills.

“What are those?” I ask, hoping she’s not some sort of junkie. Edward warned me of that, but not once did I peg her as one. She’s always clear and focused, and given my upbringing, I can usually spot a junkie a mile away.

“Birth control.”

I feel my shoulders relax, but my dick jumps, stirring to life. “Plan on getting lucky?” I smirk and instead of getting embarrassed, she graces me with a beautiful laugh, smacking my abs softly with the back of her hand. Her breath catches, her face falling at the contact and I don’t know if she can’t believe she touched me or liked what she felt when she did, but I’m making it my goal to get her to touch me again. She turns, slipping into her coat as she walks toward the door and I follow. I wait for her on the small front porch while she locks up.

When she steps toward her car, I shake my head and point to my truck. “You’re riding with me.” She opens her mouth, like she’s going to argue, but then closes it.

“Thank fuck,” I mumble, opening the door to my truck and waiting for her to climb in. Mia is tall, closer to six feet than five, but she has to use the handle to get up into my truck. I can’t say I hate the view of her tight ass flexing with the climb. In fact, I’ll take this view as incentive for her to never touch a door handle again.

I toss her bag in the backseat and slide behind the wheel, crank up the heat, and set off toward my house.

“I didn’t pay that bill Chance.” She looks over at me and her eyes hold an apology. For what? I don’t know.

I reach over, taking her hand and entwining our fingers. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry I lied about the check being in the mail. I was...I am embarrassed.”

“You don’t need to be. You’re talking to a guy who lived on the streets, slept behind dumpsters until he started hustling fights in an illegal circuit. I’ll never judge you for what you don’t have.”

She nods and looks out the side window.

“That’s what brought me up there,” she says quietly, a few miles later.

I glance over, just as her gaze shifts from the window.

“You asked earlier what brought me onto Jimmy’s stage. It’s money. I’m having money problems. I haven’t always. Since my parents died, I’ve been frugal. I had to sell their house, my mother’s dance studio, but living off my pay was okay, but something came up recently that’s put me behind and that’s why I had to do it. Believe me, it was a last resort. There’s nothing wrong with someone who does that…it’s just not me. I’m not like most of them.”

“I know you’re not.” I say, forcing myself to stop at that. I don’t know much about her, but there’s something about her that has me wanting to make every bit of her mine.