Blackjack doesn’t eat the seventeenth piece of pork chop until I use my fingers to feed him. He finishes the fries the same way. I don’t mind feeding him. I do it all the time with Duffy who doesn’t like touching her food and gets frustrated with a fork. Blackjack’s brain isn’t like Duffy’s, but he gets distracted a lot just like she does.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I say and walk toward the stairs.

I pause long enough to study the twenty steps up to the second floor. Scanning the top of the stairway, I look for movement. I know people shouldn’t be up there, but knowing isn’t the same as believing. Every room could hold danger.

“Up here, you say,” Blackjack announces, going around me and making quick work of the staircase. Once upstairs, he looks down at me. “Left or right bedroom?”

“The one with the bed,” I mutter and finally head up the stairs.

He stands at the top, blocking the light with his wide shoulders and massive height. I get to the last step and stare up at him.

“Who’s bigger, you or Oz?”

“Why?”

“It’s a competition, and the winner gets a prize.”

“What kind of prize?”

“I don’t know. I’ll give you one of Ginger’s candies.”

“I’d rather have something of yours.”

“You can have my shoes,” I say, pushing past him and walking into the bedroom. “See, it’s big enough for you. Lots of space. I only have a few things in the closet. You can have the rest of the space, and I’ll have rent. I like that.”

“What will you use the rent money for?”

“More pork chops,” I say, smiling over my shoulder.

“I could stay in the smaller bedroom.”

“There’s no bed in there.”

“I don’t think I should take your room.”

“I don’t want to sleep in here,” I say too loudly. “They made me have a townhome, but I don’t want to be here.”

“It’s cool. No need to scream at me,” he says, putting up his hands.

“I’m not screaming.”

“You’re pretty loud.”

I take a deep breath and let loose a scream that sends the cat flying out of the room. Blackjack grimaces but doesn’t cover his ears like I would if he screamed.

“Now that’s a scream,” I say once finished. The walk-in closet’s open door catches my eye, and I frown. “There are too many shadows up here when the sun gets low. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Blackjack’s long legs only need two steps before he’s on top of me. Startled, I push him away.

Except he doesn’t budge, not even a tiny bit.

“Your puny arms sadden me, Yarrow Jones,” he says, with a mocking smirk.

Narrowing my eyes, I shove him as hard as I can, but he only adjusts his footing and remains a brick wall. Next, I wrap my arms around his waist, press my shoulder into his gut, and push with all my might. I think maybe he wiggles before I hear Clove’s voice at the door.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

Without letting go of Blackjack’s waist, I blow my hair out of my face and frown at her. “I’m trying to knock him down.”

“Why?”

“I can’t remember.”

Blackjack’s right hand caresses my cheek not facing Clove. Is he worried she’s angry with me and I need comfort? If so, he’s stupid. I don’t tell him, though, because I like when he touches my face. His rough fingers are always so warm, and I think back to when he kissed my neck earlier. I wish I hadn’t been so scared he’d bite me. That felt good, and I should ask him to do it again.

“Stand up straight, Yarrow,” Clove orders.

“No.”

“Now.”

“No,” I say, giving her my most “fuck off” stare.

Clove shoots me a look that means I’m in trouble. Now I think maybe I should try to knock her down instead of Blackjack.

“Why are you in your bedroom?”

“Blackjack is moving in.”

“Nope,” she says, shaking her head and making her long dark hair shimmer. “No, no, no, no.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“I heard you scream.”

“So?”

“I thought you were in trouble.”

Pushing against the unmoving Blackjack, I sigh and finally let go. “If I were under attack, I wouldn’t scream. I would open fire or stab someone. It makes no sense to scream.”

“You’d be awful in a horror movie.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“If you don’t scream, how will you warn the rest of the group before the killer or monster gets to them?”

“I’d kill the monster.”

“And if you didn’t?”

“I’d be dead, so I wouldn’t care what happened next.”

Clove glances down the stairs, and I assume more of the crew is here. “She was screaming for kicks apparently,” she says to whoever is downstairs.

“Why are they upstairs?” Pepper asks.

“Blackjack is moving in.”

“Nope, no,” Pepper says, marching up the stairs. Once her head peeks around the corner, she adds, “Not going to happen.”

“He needs somewhere to live.”

“He isn’t living with you.”

“I know. I’m never here.”

Pepper and Clove glance at each other before shrugging. “Fine, whatever. Run it by Ginger and Oz first.”

“No.”

Clove laughs, nudging Pepper. “Soon, you’ll have a toddler who tells you no constantly. Lucky bitch.”

Pepper gives Blackjack a dirty look, but his gaze is on me. I prefer it there. I rest my hands on his hard, muscular chest and start pushing, but my feet can’t get a good grip on the carpet.

“I guess you should have kept your shoes on,” he taunts and places his hands over mine.

“No. Shoes are for stupid people,” I grunt and then give up. “You’re too big. I can’t knock you down.”

“Go for the balls,” Pepper says before walking downstairs.

Following after Pepper, Clove snickers.

I shake my head and study Blackjack. “I don’t want to damage anything important down there.”

“Yes, I don’t want that either,” he says, nearly laughing now. I think he’s happy I stuck up for him with the crew.

“I think maybe our date should be over soon. It’s getting dark, and I don’t like being here. I’ll give you my key, and you can move in.”

Blackjack cups my face, holding me still while his lips brush against my forehead. I return my hands to his chest, but this time I don’t try to knock him down. I want to feel his heart beating. I also wonder about the tattoos hiding under his shirt.

One day, I’ll have them all memorized. For tonight, we end our date with only a soft, wet kiss that I feel on my lips for the rest of the night.