“Raul’s really running with the pink thing, huh?” Fay said from behind her sewing machine.

“Oh yeah.” I did up my shorts and yanked on my t-shirt. “He most definitely is,” I said, and I knew my lack of enthusiasm for my new name, my “brand,” was showing on my face. Raul was even paying the cost to keep my hair pink. I handed her back the dress she’d made me, so she could add her finishing touches.

Fay took it from me and chuckled. “He tells me you’re doing great, that you’re becoming a bit of an attraction.”

Plonking down in the seat beside her, I stole the last oatmeal raisin cookie and took a bite. “I couldn’t tell you why. My dancing still sucks.” I slumped back. “Whatever, I’m making good money. If guys want to see me gyrate awkwardly around a stage and throw money at me, who am I to argue?”

One good thing had happened recently, though. I’d mentioned to Steph that I could do hair. She’d asked me to cut hers, and loved it. Now several of the other girls wanted me to do theirs as well.

A soft smile curled her lips. “You’re too hard on yourself. Raul says your dancing is good. Maybe not as good as some, but he thinks you’ve got something, something unique, something special. A presence on stage that has them coming back for more.”

I stared at her in shock. “Raul said that?”

She shrugged. “We talk.”

I studied her while I nibbled my cookie. Fay may be in her early sixties, but she was hot. Today, she had her long, thick wavy hair down, a little pulled back at the top. There was a touch of makeup to enhance her fine features, and she was wearing a long flowing white hippie-style skirt and a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and was knotted at her hip. Fay looked stunning, and she was also the coolest person I knew. She was total rock and roll. Foul-mouthed, and could make me laugh so hard I was close to peeing my pants. But there was something fragile about her that I’d recognized the moment we met. Pain. The kind of pain that marked you, that altered you.

It made me sad that she’d had that in her life. Fay was vibrant, vivacious, one of the most generous women I knew, and she deserved to be happy. I wanted her to be happy.

“You and Raul…are you…” Her head lifted, her eyes sharpening. “More than friends?”

She stood so fast, her chair scraped against the kitchen floor in way I was sure would leave gouges.

Shit. I’d offended her. “Fay…I never meant…”

“Raul’s my brother-in-law,” she said tightly. “So if you mean family? Then yes, of course we’re more than friends. I was married to his brother. A man that I loved dearly. That you would even think…I’d never betray Mateo like that. Never.” Then she turned her back on me and started moving things around her kitchen counter.

The last thing in the world I’d want to do was upset her. Fay had been there for me since I moved next door, she was the only person I could totally rely on, the only person I trusted with Tilly. She’d become my best friend. “I never meant to imply…I made assumptions.” I stood and moved to the counter, leaning against it. “I’m so sorry, Fay.”

She brushed a loose strand of black and silver hair back from her face. “No.” She shook her head. “I…I overreacted. I’m sorry, let’s just…”

The rumbling growl of an engine came from outside, an engine I knew well.

We both headed to the living room and watched as Jude shut the bike off. He was wearing black boots, worn jeans that hugged his ass, a black t-shirt that clung to his chest, and his leather jacket. His hair was windblown, like I imagined it looked in the morning. He looked hot. Better than any man had a right to.

He swung his leg over the seat, slid off his shades, and looked up, his gaze moving over my place.

Shit.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” Fay said, smirking.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I hadn’t seen him in four days. Not since we were interrupted by Fay and Tilly. After we’d nearly…I’d nearly let him…

I watched as he removed a large duffle strapped to the back of his bike, bypass the steps to my place, and head for the apartment below mine.

“What in the hell?”

He unlocked the door and walked inside.

“You better go see what’s going on,” Fay said, bumping her hip against mine.

“I don’t want to,” I muttered.

She snorted. “Uh-huh.”

“Fay,” I warned.

She chuckled. “Well, you have to go. I’m meeting Jennifer for dinner.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I sure am.”

He appeared again and started up the stairs to my place. Crap. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to see him because when I did either of those things, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that with him, and that was out of the question, right?

No men.

I’d promised Rebecca.

I growled under my breath when he banged on my door for a second time. I needed to get this over and done with. He’d only come back if I didn’t go over there and see what he wanted. I said goodbye to Fay and headed home.

He turned at the sound of Fay’s front door opening and closing, huge fist poised, ready to knock a third time. He watched me walk toward him, his eyes locked on mine, before dropping, going all the way to the sparkly blue flip-flops I was wearing and back up.

I heated, every part of me, and I despised my lack of control. I was stronger than that. Jude was just a man, like any other. Sure, he was capable of climbing out of a second-story windows while holding small children, but despite the evidence to the contrary, he was still just a guy.

He was just a man, like any other.

Trusting him with any part of me was a stupid idea. I could admit that he appeared to be a decent human being. But come on, no one was that nice without having an ulterior motive. People didn’t do nice shit for nothing, even if it was just for the accolades.

No one was that…good.

Who are you trying to convince?

I ignored the internal argument I was having with myself and focused on fighting my body’s intense reaction to just the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” I said, a little sharper than I’d intended.

He turned, crossed his arms, brows lowering. “Jesus, yeah, nice to see you too, babe,” he muttered.

I was being a bitch and that pissed me off. Which usually meant I felt threatened. I was self-aware enough to know this about myself. I’d been doing it all my life. So, I forcibly dialed it back. Jude had saved my ass the other night, and as much as I wanted to think he’d done it for some nefarious reason, I knew he hadn’t. I was wrong. He’d looked out for me, and he didn’t deserve a dose of my attitude, no matter how pissed off I was at my current situation.

Now I was closer, I could the tightness of his jaw, the wariness lining his face. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, a couple of something’s, actually. First, the meeting with Jethro fell through, the fucker backed out and backed off for some reason. We can only assume our covers were somehow blown. And second, my place flooded. The apartment upstairs burst a pipe, and most of my shit is fucked beyond repair.”

He stared down at me, waiting for my response.

His frustration was palpable, and he looked…tired. I didn’t know what to say. I had the strong and highly disturbing urge to comfort him, to tug him closer and, shit…hug him. I spun away, unable to look into his eyes a moment longer, and unlocked the door. “That sucks,” I said, which I knew was completely inadequate, but all I could manage with the way my throat was tightening, with the way unwanted emotions for him were bombarding me.

He followed me down to the kitchen. “Tilly’s at school?” he asked when I turned to face him again.

Yeah, he looked tired, but damn, he also looked really, really good. “Yep.”

He dipped his chin, and his jaw worked again as he looked at me, gaze darkening, heating. “Right. So, we’re all on our own then?”

I broke eye contact and walked to the fridge. “Drink?”

There was a charged silence for several seconds, then, “I’m fine.”

I grabbed a Coke, even though I wasn’t thirsty, and poured it into a glass, something I never did, but right then, I couldn’t take the tension, the…whatever that was between us, crackling and sparking whenever our eyes met.

“Willa?” he said, a question in his voice, a question I did not want to answer.

“What?” I carried on avoiding that stare, avoided him, and started putting away the groceries I’d gotten earlier. He wanted me. And God help me, I wanted him too, but the way I wanted him right then, it terrified the hell out of me.

If we talked about it, if we tried to put it into words, I’d cave, and I’d never be able to stop this thing burning between us. This thing that felt so damn big. Too big.

I’d let it engulf me.

I’d burn to ash.

Another deafening, heavy silence.

“So what did you want?” I asked, breaking the quiet tension. I glanced over at him when he didn’t answer right away. He was watching me, something I couldn’t name, something I couldn’t bear to see, staring back at me. “Look I’m kinda busy,” I choked out. “Whatever this is about will have to wait.”

My pulse was racing, thumping so hard I felt out of breath. I wanted to go to him, I wanted to run the other way. I was so confused my stomach was in knots.

His hands went to his hips. “All right, sweetheart,” he finally said, low and gritty. “I see how it is.”

I froze, then shoved a packet of pasta in the cupboard as his words sunk in. “Hmm?” I said, when I knew exactly what he meant. I’d had a change of heart. What I’d offered was now off the table.

Was it, though? Is that what I’d just done? I guess I had. Suddenly, I felt ill.

“Message received,” he said. “Loud and clear.”

Jude had just bowed out. He wouldn’t push for more from me, not now. Honestly, I didn’t blame him.

I carried on, pretending to fuss about the kitchen, still studiously avoiding those brown eyes. A wave of sadness hit me out of nowhere, like a tsunami. Christ, I thought I might actually cry. What the hell was wrong with me?

“I’ll be moving into the apartment downstairs until the repairs to my place are done. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.” Then he turned and walked out.

My gaze snapped to him, to his retreating back, the words on the tip of my tongue. “Don’t go.” But I bit them back because they weren’t the only things that were flying through my mind.

I’m terrified.

You make me feel safe.

I’m so damn lonely.

I need you.

Those last words jolted me back to reality, and not just out of my own head. I grabbed for the table like the ground was pulled from beneath my feet.

“Don’t let a man fuck up your life like I did, Willa, like Mom did. I…I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Tilly if anything happens to me. Promise me you’ll raise her right. No man. You’ll look after my baby, you’ll keep her safe, and you’ll do it on your own.”

I couldn’t fight it anymore, and agony washed over me, wave after intensifying wave, the tears stinging my eyes, spilling over. I’d let Rebecca down while she was alive. I hadn’t done enough. And I knew in my soul, it was my fault she was gone. My fault Tilly didn’t have her mom. If only I’d forced her to go back to rehab sooner. God, I don’t know, locked her in the damned basement until she was better. She’d still be here.

I’d made Rebecca a promise. A promise I intended to keep. I wouldn’t let down her daughter like I had her. I’d moved heaven and earth to protect her. To do right by her. And that started with abiding by her mother’s wishes.

Still, I found myself moving to the living room window, watching through the net curtains as Jude grabbed something else from the saddle bag on his bike and took it into the apartment.

He appeared back outside a moment later, locked the door, and got back on his bike.

I jumped when the engine roared to life.

He revved it a few times, and glanced up at my apartment. Something rose up in me, something so strong I actually took a step toward the front door, my hand reaching for the handle. But before I could pull it open, I heard him ride away.

I pressed my forehead to the cool wood. It was for the best. Tilly and I were better off alone.

* * *

Jude didn’t come back that night, or the two after that.

* * *

It was late. I wasn’t tired, but I couldn’t relax. I felt guilty, like I had for the last few nights. Where was he sleeping? I could only assume he was staying away because of me, and that made me feel shitty. This was his house. He’d let me live here, rent free, while I found a new job, and even then, hadn’t hassled me for payment. He should be downstairs now.

I went back to the living room and stared out the window, still no bike parked out there. I headed back to the kitchen and sat at the table, pulling my phone from my pocket, and stared down at it. I should call him, but what would I even say?

I clicked open a new message. Maybe a text? Less personal that way.

Was I really going to do this?

I typed something out quickly. Are you staying away because of me?

My finger hovered over the send button.

What was I doing? Sending a message was a stupid idea. Better to just leave things as they were.

“Aunt Willa!”

I jumped, and my thumb came down, accidentally hitting send.

“Shit.” I stared down at the message. Delivered flashed up instantly. My stomach knotted. That message was way too revealing, God, too vulnerable.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I clicked away, unable to look at it, and put my phone face down on the table, like that would somehow make it go away. “What is it, Tils?” I called back.

“I’m thirsty. Can you bring me a drink of water?”

I took her a drink, trying not to think about the message I’d just sent, gave her warm cheek another kiss goodnight after she gulped down half the glass, then tucked her back in. She was asleep again before I walked out the door.

My phone buzzed against the kitchen table while I was putting the glass in the sink. Crap. I sat down heavily at the table at stared down at my phone, like it was a venomous spider, then quickly flipped it over and opened my messages.

On an out of town job. Back Friday.

I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face. Why the hell had I thought he was avoiding me? He wasn’t some lovesick teenager. He was a grown ass man. Jesus, I’d made a complete and utter fool out of myself.

Another message came through before I could reply, not that I had any idea what to say.

How’s everything back home?

There he went, being goddamn nice again. I quickly typed out a reply. All good here.

That was friendly enough. It didn’t sound snappy, and not over the top forgive-me-for-being-a-bitch either.

I assumed that’d be the end of it, then my phone buzzed again.

Tilly?

Okay, that was…nice, asking after her like that. She’s good too. Though, we’ve had a few issues with a bully at school.

I had no idea why I told him about that, but he seemed to like Tilly, and this kind of felt like waving a white flag. A safe subject.

We text back and forth for a bit, since he wanted to know what was happening. He even gave some pretty good advice, which I appreciated.

Jude: If all else fails, I’ll pick her up from school on my bike and she can point the little fucker out.

I chuckled to myself. I knew he was joking, but it was sweet. Hot on the heels of that thought was of my own ride on the back of his bike. The way my blood had pumped hotly though my veins. The exhilaration. How good it had felt pressed against Jude’s big, hard body. I shivered.

Again, another message came through before I had time to answer, and it was like he’d just read my mind.

I’ll take her aunt for another ride too, if she wants?

It was insane how much I wanted that. On the back of Jude’s Harley, arms wrapped around him, the wind in my hair. That feeling of freedom, of safety, it was something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.

Maybe.

I cursed softly as soon as I sent it. That was totally giving him mixed signals. I quickly typed another text before he could reply, before this little conversation could go in a direction it shouldn’t.

So what are you doing? Or is it a secret squirrel assignment?

Hunting.

A bad guy?

I knew they went after people who skipped out on their court dates. Like bounty hunters or whatever. Because I’d checked The King Agency website. I didn’t want to think about why I did that, why I’d wanted to know where he worked and what he did.

Yeah.

I shivered again. His job was dangerous, but I knew Jude was more than capable. Honestly, it was kind of a turn-on. Everything about the man was a turn-on.

Happy hunting.

Going to bed?

Belly flutter. Yup.

I’m on surveillance tomorrow. A lot of sitting on my hands, going stir crazy. Can I text you?

Could he? What harm could it possibly do? Jude was still my landlord; it would be in my best interest to get along with him, right?

That’s what I told myself as I typed my reply and hit send.

Sure.