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“Den’ be talking shite, ye bleedin’ woman.” He gave me a blinding grin, evidently enjoying the attention. “Me accent turns ye into a dirty slapper.”

Shea arched a thin, dark brow at me.

I shook my head. “I think he just called me an easy lay.”

His guffaw confirmed it, prompting me to go after his nipple with pinching fingers, which he blocked with a pumped-up bicep, the showoff.

“Okay, absurdly sexy priest man…” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Say thirty-three and a third.”

His smile fell. “No.”

Oh, this was good. I nudged his knee with mine. “Say it.”

Casting me a dirty look, he rubbed his whiskers and grumbled something under his breath.

I nudged him again. “What was that?”

“Thirty-three and a third,” he said, which sounded like turty tree and a turd.

Shea doubled over with laughter, and I couldn’t help but join her. Her contentment was contagious. Even Roark’s scowl eventually gave in to a grin.

With the teasing out of the way, I helped her parse through her pre-apocalypse clothes. She urged me, more than once, to try on some of her dresses. I’d never been a girly-girl. And now, well, I considered clothes about as practical as cell phones. I didn’t even own a pair of panties.

As the conversation switched to fake nails and high-heels, Shea sat on the floor, surrounded by frilly stuff I couldn’t identify. She talked, and I nodded. I couldn’t relate to her fashion interests, but damn if I hadn’t missed the company of another female. Of course, I’d spent a month with Elaine, but she’d rather spit on me than talk to me. Not that I’d made any amicable efforts, either.

“Jackson loved these shoes.” She ran a hand over a strappy red stiletto, her lips trembling, unable to hold her smile.

“I lost my husband, too.”

I had no words of solace, no comfort to share. After Joel died, I’d found some semblance of peace in silence, so that was what I gave her now.

In the quiet moment that followed, I sensed a welcome sort of bond pulling us together. Her gaze drifted to mine, her stricken expression cleared, and her gentle smile returned.

Roark grew quiet beside me, and I realized he’d fallen asleep.

“Hey.” I tugged on his dreadlocks until he opened his eyes. “Go switch places with Jesse. He needs a nap more than you do.”

Arguing that we didn’t need a guard in here and one at the front door would’ve been a waste of time, so I didn’t bother.

Roark left with a kiss on my nose, and a few moments later, Jesse walked in holding a mug.

Shea looked up from her elaborate makeup kit and watched him out of the corner of her eye. She seemed suddenly more guarded, her fingers moving slowly, distractedly, through her supplies. Surely, he hadn’t scared her on their walk over here? Or was there something else going on?

I nodded in his direction. “He doesn’t bite.”

Her eyes flicked to me and back to him. “He doesn’t talk either. Is he mute?”

He scanned the room, his body stiffening as he took in the flowered wallpaper, the spread of makeup on the floor around Shea, and the lingerie strung on hangers around the room. He looked really uncomfortable and out of place, with his frayed clothes and fuck-off expression. Was he allergic to girly crap?

I thought back to the first time I saw him. His gorgeous looks aside, I had not been impressed. How many times had I watched him walk away, mumbling to myself, What a dick?

“He’s not mute,” I said. “He’ll grow on you.” Then he’ll steal your heart.

Hopefully not Shea’s heart. I didn’t want her to discover how big of a possessive bitch I could be. I really liked this girl.

Glancing down at the mug in his hand, Jesse approached me and held it out.

I accepted it with a smile and moaned as I sipped, the robustness of dark coffee warming my throat. “Ahhh, that’s heaven. Thank you.”

Chin lowered and shoulders back, he stared at me with his silent watchfulness, the kind of stare that used to make me insanely uneasy. Now I expected it. Loved it, even.

With nothing else to do but look at each other, I joined Shea on the floor. Jesse propped his bow against the mattress and sat on the bed, his unwavering gaze caressing my face.

Shea chattered on, lamenting the end of fashion magazines and celebrity styles and the manufacturing of push-up bras and tampons and well, everything. My thoughts drifted to weapons training, building her strength and endurance, and transforming her into an aphid-slaying machine. Yeah, okay, she was very feminine, and the nymph fever had eaten away her body weight. But her frame was sturdy and solid, and with enough cardio and strength training, I bet she could wield a fierce amount of muscle.