Page 16 of Professional Consult

“I’m not taking your bed.”

“I know it’s not your fancy Marriott mattress and hundred thread count sheets, but you were about ready to sleep on a jailhouse cot.”

She giggles. “Hundred thread count?”

“Something like that.”

“Your bed is lovely, but I’m not taking it from you. Especially after the day you’ve had.”

“Well, it’s the only bed I got, so you’re taking it.”

“Then where will you be sleeping?”

“The couch.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’d feel terrible kicking you out of your room.”

“Does it make you feel bad enough to get you on the next plane back to Hollywood?”

“Why are you so put off by me?” She throws her hands in the air like a damn toddler. “You haven’t even worked with me yet.”

“Because this was supposed to be a one day thing where you got arrested and we got a playground, and now it’s turned into a multi-week event centered around your arrogant pride.”

Her face falls.

All at once, I feel like shit. It was never my intention to make her feel bad. I just very much want her to leave. She doesn’t belong here, just like Clint never did. They were meant for bigger things, and I’m more than happy being small.

“Do you need anything?”

“Um, I have no toothbrush. No clothes. I don’t even think I had my phone charger in my purse, so my phone is dead. I kind of welcome that.”

I suck in a breath, trying to remind myself that this isn’t her fault. That she’s done nothing wrong.

I pull open a drawer and toss one of my undershirts to her. “We can stop at the general store tomorrow to pick up some things.”

She manages a tight smile. “Thank you.”

I exit the room, closing the door behind me, then let Riggs in for his evening kibble.

“Sorry I got home so late. You can blame that pretty little intruder you want petting you so badly.”

Not that I can blame him. I’d sure like a few pets myself.

After eating, Riggs whines at my bedroom door, but I bat him away and usher him onto the couch where I put the TV on to the nature channel for him.

I don’t think I’ve ever needed a shower so badly in my life. Perhaps I should have offered Lexi one first. That would be the chivalrous thing to do, though I don’t much like the thought of her smelling all clean and soapy. Throughout the day’s chaos, she’s worked up quite a sweat and her scent is everywhere, driving me to near madness. Primal, floral, musky—sexy as hell. I want to rub my face all over her in a caveman-ish claim to territory.

Definitely not going to wash my bedsheets after she leaves.

I’m a little taken aback by what a pervert I’ve become around her, not that I have any plans to act on it. I’ve already crossed legal lines with this woman. Best not to cross any others.

I strip off my dirty clothes, step into the shower, and turn the heat to high.

And a different form of stress takes hold.