Page 18 of A Beta Protects

And that’s a problem.

Because I had a brother who was in the Marines. After he enlisted, he preferred a simpler way of living than he did before. Except his Ford Mustang. He loved that car. I wish I could have brought it with me instead of leaving it behind, but I didn’t know I was leaving Bryce until that very moment.

Aaron had no need for pretty décor or clutter. His life after he passed basic was pretty minimal. On the rare occasion he had too much to drink at a party that Bryce and I hosted, and it wasn’t safe for him to drive home, he stayed in our spare room. He would always make the bed up the next morning with tightly folded corners. Probably the way he’d been taught to in basic training.

So this room might belong to someone who also went through basic training.

Someone like Dom.

I stand with my back to the dresser, puzzling what to do next. Do I pretend I don’t know this is his room, that I didn’t just spend the night sleeping naked in his bed, which feels kind of intimate. Especially since I like him.

My cheeks feel hot at the thought of sleeping in a place he had slept until I turned up. Maybe also naked?

Don’t go there Kira.

But I do go there.

“So now what, Kira?” I breathe. “You need a T-shirt, and he’s wandered into the forest like he seems to be in the habit of, what do you do?”

I look at the bed again. Now that I know this is Dom’s bed, it feels wrong to be sleeping naked in it. Not only because he might need something from that dresser and come in, and I would rather he didn’t find me naked.

But I have nothing to sleep in, and there is no way in hell I’m sleeping in the same shirt I intend to wear to an interview. Not after all the effort of handwashing it, and not after wasting an hour blasting it with a hairdryer.

I know I shouldn’t, but I turn back to the dresser, pull open the top drawer and look inside.

He’s folded everything so neatly that I wonder if it’s automatic. All my order and structure came from a fear that I’d be a fuck up.

He has tank tops on one side and black and dark gray boxer shorts on the other side. I pull out a pair of the boxers and one white tank top. Both are way too big for me. The top, more so than the bottom since I’m a pear shape with smaller breasts and wider hips. But both will still fit since Dom is over 6’2.

I walk over to the bed and tuck them under my pillow.

While I’m staying here, I’ll sleep in this, and before I leave, I’ll ask Sierra to borrow their washing machine, wash everything and then put it all away so Dom will never know I’m wearing his underwear to bed.

Trying not to fall onto your food like a rabid dog when you’ve spent the last several days starving isn’t easy. Especially while sharing a large table with strangers, and especially when you’ve been served up chicken parmesan with pasta, tomato sauce, a generous serving of grated parmesan and garlic toast.

Delicious, in other words. Stuff your face and go back for seconds, thirds, and potentially even fourths, good. But I’m in public, so I force myself to eat slowly.

“How are you finding Wylder?” Galen, the big guy with the heavy muscles, dark hair, and intense green eyes, keeps finding reasons to touch the petite woman beside him. Sierra. His fiancée, from the ring on her finger.

I drag my gaze from the meal I wish I could crawl under the table, avoid all conversation and stuff my face the way I want to.

“It’s nice,” I say politely, hoping no one hears the quiet rumble of my belly when I stop feeding it.

“Well, we hope you’ll stick around,” Sierra says, leaning her shoulder against Galen’s. “If only to encourage Dom to be a little more talkative.”

My eyes dart to Dom, who has his plate full and isn’t showing much interest in clearing it. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

Given he couldn’t wait to get away from me back in Missouri.

His dark brown eyes hook mine, and I forget about my cooling dinner. “I’ve lacked the sufficient motivation. Until now.”

I’m sure I’m wrong about what I’m seeing here. In fact, I’m positive I’m wrong, because Dom is not acting like he hates me.

Eyes flick from me to Dom and back again as the silence creeps from two seconds to five. Dom literally spent two months doing everything humanly possible to avoid me in town.

Then he joined the Marines.

The dinner sounds soon resume, forks and knives hitting plates, and a low murmur of conversation as my dinner mates discuss Wylder, work on renovating an out-building, and other ordinary things that help me forget I’m among strangers.

---