Page 65 of His Other Half

"Sweetheart?"

"Hm?" She continued holding him.

"If you haven't noticed, we're standing in cold water."

She laughed softly, having forgotten where they were standing. The water had lost all warmth. Reaching behind him, she pulled the shower curtain closed.

"Flip the drain and turn on the showerhead." She shivered at the loss of his body heat.

Ten minutes later, they'd used up all the hot water. Josie wrapped a towel around her body as she watched Paco stride out of the bathroom naked, dripping water all the way to the bedroom. She had no idea if all men had the same brash habit, but it was the opposite of her, and she found it sexy, daring and freeing—despite dragging a towel with her foot to dry his trail of drips.

A knock came to her apartment. She grabbed the towel tighter around her chest.

"I'll answer." Paco fastened his jeans and picked up the pistol, tucking it in the waistband at his lower back. "Go ahead and finish dressing."

Gone was their moment together.

She hurried and slipped on her clean clothes. At the open doorway of her room, she tilted her head to listen but couldn't hear any voices. She quickly braided her wet hair over her shoulder and walked into the living room.

Besides Paco, Cami was the only one who came over, but she always knocked twice as if afraid to bother her.

Paco wasn't in the apartment. She looked out of the lone window and could see him standing at the curb without shoes or a shirt, talking to a man on a motorcycle.

The other person turned. She recognized Priest, the president of Tarkio.

Knowing it wasn't someone out to harm Paco and Cami was okay in her apartment, she went to the kitchen and poured oil in the bottom of a large kettle Banks was going to throw out at work, and she'd dug it out of the garbage and brought it home. It was perfectly good. All it needed was a good scrubbing, and she had it looking like new.

When Paco finished, they could munch on popcorn.

She used the last of the corn kernels and added the item to the grocery list. She and Cami hadn't gone to the store in at least two weeks. She was running out of food.

As she shook the pan for the last time and turned off the burner, Paco walked in and locked the door. She glanced at him. He wore a stern expression, hardening his mouth.

"Everything okay?" She poured the popcorn in a bowl.

"I need to leave for a bit." He walked to the bedroom.

She set the pot in the sink, looked at the popcorn, and brushed her hands off on her jeans. With her hope gone that they'd be able to spend the next couple of days together before she had to go back to work, she went to see if he'd be back tonight or if he'd return to his house.

Sometimes, she forgot that he was a homeowner, considering he had stayed with her every night since they'd taken their relationship from sex to wanting to be together.

They hadn't even talked about long-term plans because every day was spent making sure she was safe from Askook and his men. The constant threat to her happiness made everything seem temporary.

Paco looked up from tying his boots. "Whip's coming by the apartment and will stay out at the curb while I ride out. Stay inside, where it's safe. If Cami needs you, flash your porch light twice. I'll let Whip know that's the signal for when you need him or to escort you next door."

She swallowed. Having grown comfortable having him with her at home, she'd let herself depend on him.

"I'm aware that I need to be careful," she said.

Paco nodded, putting on his shirt and vest. She studied him from the doorway. Only minutes ago, he was calm and relaxed after having had sex with her. Now, he moved in a hurry, double-checking his weapon and sweeping his hair back to his nape and tying it with a leather strip.

He worked fast and had grown serious. More focused than when they were hanging around in the apartment, she got jealous.

"You're excited." She rubbed her lips together.

He winked and stepped over and kissed her. "Lock the door behind me."

Walking around her, he headed toward the door. She followed, unsure if he was going to the clubhouse or looked forward to partying with the others—which was a different kind of worry.