I wasn’t really underaged, after all. I should be taking care of myself. I just needed to catch a break. A job. A cheap apartment. Maybe even friends someday.
Friends like Shane. Who I was lying to. Taking advantage of.
I felt like curling up in a ball and hiding at the thought of his hating me. Shane would kick me out for sure.
Worse, he’d be mad at me.
Crap, Parker. You’ve really stepped in it now.
I should leave now. Before things got worse. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. For the first time in my life, I had someplace I wanted to be.
I tossed Shane a bottle of aspirin and headed to bed.
“Rise and shine, buttercup!”
I groaned at the racket happening in the hallway. Buttercup? Seriously? It sounded like Shane was banging on a pot with a metal spoon.
“Boot camp starts now!”
I forced myself to stand. I pulled a baggy button-down shirt over the Ace bandage and tank top I wore to keep my chest under control. I made sure my hair was tucked under my hat. I smelled my breath and shrugged, pulling the chair away and opening the door.
“There he is!”
“Jesus. Why are you so happy?”
“Because I’m going to make you” —he pointed at my chest with enthusiasm— “into a badass.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. The man was black and blue, hungover, and still managed to look absolutely gorgeous. And way too cheerful for this early in the morning.
“Are you still drunk?”
He toasted me with a mug full of steaming coffee.
“I think so!”
I rolled my eyes and groaned. But it was hard to ignore the smells coming from the kitchen. I sniffed the air.
“Is that . . . steak and eggs?”
“You got it, kid.”
“Parker,” I corrected him wearily, sitting at the table. “And I think I like drunk you.”
“That’s good, kid.”
I frowned. He had called me Parker a handful of times, if that. I wondered if that meant my cover was on the verge of being blown. Then again, if he thought I was a kid, he was less likely to kick me out. I decided not to make an issue over it. The man was cooking me steak and eggs, after all.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.
“You need help with that?”
I tried not to stare at the way his snug jeans fit his ridiculously flawless ass or the breadth of his wide, thickly muscled shoulders. The man was physical perfection from head to toe. It had been years since I’d noticed a boy, and that was way before I knew anything about sex. And then I’d learned to fear the idea of it. Things had been bad at home for longer than I wanted to admit. I’d run away multiple times before, only to get yanked back. But after I turned eighteen, they were powerless over me. So yeah, it had been a long time since I’d drooled over a boy.
But Shane was no boy. Not with his muscular body, tats, and scars. Not with the haunted look in his unfairly bright, gorgeous green eyes and easy smile.
And the dimples. Don’t forget the dimples.
I groaned and took a big gulp of the coffee. I was in trouble. Big trouble. This was all new to me.
Shane was the first man I’d crushed on, other than vague non-sexual crushes on movie stars.
This was definitely more of steamy crush. The man was giving me goosebumps all over. And he thought I was a boy!
“You okay?”
“Other than getting no sleep last night? Yeah.”
“I woke you?”
“Don’t you remember?”
He shrugged sheepishly.
“I remember you cleaned me up. I’m sorry if I was an ass.”
I shook my head.
“You weren’t. You were just loud.”
“Loud?”
“Stumbles McGee.”
He grinned at me.
“Stumbles McGee. I like that.” He gave me a mischievous look that was playful. Maybe even borderline flirtatious, if he actually knew that I was a girl. “You ready to eat?”
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Good. You’re going to need your strength.”
He had no idea how true that was.
“Jab. Jab. Duck!”
The sun was beating down on my back as I tried to mimic Shane’s movements. I wasn't used to using my upper body strength this much, and it was pretty much non-existent. My muscles were aching, my shirt was soaked with sweat, and my sneakers were coated in dust from shuffling around the yard.
I was beat.
I was also totally distracted by the man bobbing and weaving in front me. Shane had taken off his shirt after twenty minutes and was wearing a thin white tank top and jeans as he trained me. He was taking it seriously too. I was going to be sore tomorrow.
Actually, I was pretty sore now.
He lunged forward and I danced out of his way. More because I was afraid he might accidentally notice my squashed-down boobs than fear of taking a hit. I was out of breath and panting when he finally stopped the lesson twenty minutes later.