Page 132 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

Sure, I could pay for the subscription on my phone, but that’s not my style. I’m not big on cell phones or technology in general. I leave that all to Reed.

“You bet. As long as you slept well, that’s all that matters.”

She takes another sip and nods. “I was actually going to talk to you about that.” She hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here? I wouldn’t mind taking the couch, ya know. Or if you want, we could drive to a store in Lancaster and pick up one of those air mattresses or something.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch or an air mattress when there’s a perfectly good bed in my room.”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Yeah, maybe, but what about you? No offense or anything, but a man of your—” She stops, not sure how to say it. “Your stature shouldn’t be sleeping on a couch, Colter.”

“We’ve already been over this. The only other option would be for me to sleep next to you, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

She nods, lifting her mug to take another drink.

“If it becomes too much trouble, I can figure something else out.” I reach out and grab her forearm, and she stops, dropping her eyes down to where I’m touching her.

“It’s not too much trouble. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you to be here.” It’s true. I can’t describe this need to be near her, to want to take care of her. “If you need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome here as long as you need. Or if you’d prefer to stay with your brother or get a hotel, I understand that too. Whatever you want.”

She shakes her head. “I want to stay here. I feel comfortable with you.”

Hearing her say those words out loud tightens something in my chest.

Since I grew up with my younger sister, you could say I’m used to the caretaker role. It was my job to look after her and protect them, and I can’t explain it, but I feel the same about Ava.

It’s not some hero complex either, seeing a vulnerable girl needing help and thinking it’s my job to swoop in to save the day.

Hell, if I saw someone try to pull the same shit with my sister, I’d be quick to put them in their place. I guess that’s part of why I don’t want her to feel pressured to let me sleep next to her. I’d want someone to give the same respect to Wyatt if she were in her position.

“All right. Then I guess it’s decided. You’ll stay here, and you can take my room.” I nod.

I’m not going to argue with her about the bed situation. Though when she mentioned the air mattress, come to think of it, I’m sure I have one packed away with all my camping gear from over the summer. If anyone is taking an air mattress, it’ll be me.

“Before you take off for football, do you mind if we get in the truck and see if I can find a box with some of my clothes? I only packed enough to get through the first couple of days, and well,” she says, holding her arms up to reveal how she’s practically swimming in my shirt.

“You bet. Give me a minute, and we can head out there.”

I finish the rest of my coffee and fold up the paper. It’s not that important, and whatever I planned on reading can wait until later.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the bright pink nail polish on her toes. Even her toes are tiny, and I start to think about how easy it would be for me to lift her into my arms and hold her.

I shake myself from those thoughts, feeling crazy for how quickly I’ve progressed from meeting her to picturing all the ways I want to touch her, devour her.

She’s waiting for me near the door after I change into something to wear to practice. If she was trying not to be obvious about the way her eyes roamed over my body, checking me out, then she failed.

“Ready, Sugar?” I ask, jogging down the steps.

With a giggle, she presses the handle to the screen door and steps outside, the warm summer heat hitting me in the face as soon as we pass the entryway.

Mark seemed a bit concerned when I told him I was keeping one of the trucks at my place yesterday. He immediately called me after he read my text message, questioning what we would do with one of our trucks tied up for the week.

Braysen students flooded campus as they returned to class for the fall semester. I knew he wouldn’t be happy being down a truck, but I promised to make sure it wouldn’t be a problem. If worse came to worst, we could move her stuff into my garage, but I didn’t want to have to do that to her.

Slipping the key in the padlock, I unhook the hatch and push the door up, revealing the stack of boxes.

“Any chance you know which one it might be?” I ask, looking over the writing on the side of the boxes within my view, searching for any that might contain her clothes.

She reaches for my shoulder, using me to hoist herself up as she climbs into the back. She steps around the boxes and bags of stuff until she finds what she’s looking for.

I’m about to offer my help when she lifts the bag, carrying it over her shoulder like she’s Mrs. Claus, and watch her as she shuffles her way toward me.

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