Page 40 of Ice Queen

Markus sat patiently in the back of the store all day long, his hand often running through Maggie’s fur like she was the only thing keeping him from getting up and doing whatever he could to help.

Every time my eyes met his, they’d soften. Yet when I looked at him without him knowing, they were hard, always moving, watching, cataloging the movements of everyone who came in.

When the day is over, and the window has been boarded up, I turn off the open sign and lock the door. Spinning on my heel, I run right into a very hard chest. Letting out a brief shriek, I steady myself by grabbing onto his arms. Mistake number one.

My eyes travel up his torso to meet his eyes, which are full of both curiosity and concern. A heady mix that makes my head spin. I lean my head forward, resting it on said chest as I let myself relax for the first time since this happened. Mistake number two.

“Pack your stuff,” he says gruffly.

I rear back, hands tightening against his forearms. “What?”

“Pack your stuff,” he says again.

“I heard you the first time. I just don’t know why I’d need to do that.”

He scoffs, looking to the sky while pushing at the ring in his lip. “You can’t stay here, Kait.”

Releasing my grip, I step away and cross my arms over my chest. “And where am I supposed to go?”

“With me.” His head lowers, jaw clenching and unclenching every few seconds.

“You?”

“That’s what I said.”

Unbelievable.

“I don’t even know you. You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“Could be.” He walks around the front counter, grabs my purse from the hook it hangs on, and hands it to me. “But I’m not.”

My eyes narrow, a thousand reasons I should tell him to take a hike run through my head, but the one that keeps my mouth shut is the fact that I literally have nowhere else to go.

“Look,” he says, pushing a hand through his hair before he tugs at the collar of his shirt. “I’m out of town a lot, and I have more than enough room. You can hang out with Maggie while I’m gone. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

He pauses, his eyes scanning the store. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

His chest heaves as he inhales, but the entire time, his eyes never stray from mine.

“Please stay with me.”

He asked. A man asked me to do something. He’s not forcing me to do anything. I could say no, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I did, he’d accept it. My fingers clench against my biceps. This is a dangerous move.

“Can I pay rent?” I ask.

“House is paid off.”

Of freaking course it is. “You won’t bring back any women while I’m there, or at least you’ll tell me first so I can be anywhere else?”

Something that looks a lot like hurt flashes across his face, and I hate that I put it there. Like always, I rush to fix the situation I’m convinced I broke. “Not that it’s any of my business, I just don’t do very well with strangers. It makes me super uncomfortable.”

This is not about him at all. The number of times Wyatt brought other women to our apartment because it was “important,” but they couldn’t be seen in public, makes me want to hurl right where I’m at. I’d be banished to our room, only allowed to come out once they’d left. I’m sure the asshole was cheating on me, with me inside the apartment. I’m such an idiot.

I look down at my hands, fingers finding the hem of my shirt. “Plus, I really don’t want to cramp your style,” I whisper.

“Other than my mom, sister, or my teammates' wives, you’re the only woman to ever step foot in my house.”