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Eventually, she relaxed. The time it took to pull herself together gave her time to think of what she wanted to ask him.

Back at the clubhouse, she'd wanted to ask why he wanted to spend time with her. But there was more to her question.

She'd seen the women who hung out at the clubhouse. None of them looked like her. They were probably nice women, but they entertained a lifestyle she had no experience with. They were older than her—more experienced and a lot harder.

But she wasn't stupid.

Because of how she was raised and having older parents, she understood what men wanted. She needed to know what was going on.

"Wire?" she whispered.

"Hm."

"Am I in danger?" She waited, but when he hadn't answered, she said, "Tell me the truth."

There were no agreements between them. They had no relationship. Tonight, their pent-up attraction got the best of them.

Besides knowing he was determined, stubborn, and true to his word, she only knew one other thing about him. He stayed close to her after she'd witnessed something illegal and dangerous when his motorcycle club brother was shot.

He'd come to the coffee shop every day and stayed for hours. Even if he were attracted to her, it wouldn't explain his need to hang around her while she worked.

"Not with me," he whispered. "You're safe."

She closed her eyes. That wasn't the answer she sought, but her relief was the same.

Chapter Eight

WIRE SHOVED THE CABLE into the conductor. The routine job came without much thought. He hooked the two hots up and grounded the cold wire into the box.

"That's it?" Mr. Sampson chuckled. "Hell, I could've done that myself."

Wire picked up the cut pieces and shoved them in his back pocket. "You could've. But one mistake and you wouldn't be here to enjoy your new hot tub."

"True. True." Mr. Sampson shook his head. "My wife will be happy now. She's been waiting to use the tub. I bought it for our anniversary last month."

Wire flipped on the breaker. "I'll go out and set your controls."

"Appreciate it." Mr. Sampson followed him out of the garage and into the backyard.

He had the filter running on the tub, and the temperature set in no time. He packed his tools back into the truck. With a nod, he was back on the road.

It took him ten minutes to make it back to his house. A house that needed the lawn cut, the garbage taken out, and the place aired out.

He hadn't been home for a week. That week set him back. He had a job away from Havlin Motorcycle Club. A call list long enough to keep him busy all summer. The best he could do was squeeze in a few calls during the day until he got caught up.

Club business would always come first. His primary source of money came from working for Havlin. His electrician business kept him on the right side of the law and took the feds eyes off him.

He shut the door, locked the panels on the back of his truck, secured his tools, and then walked into the house.

He stripped off his clothes in the bathroom, took a shower, and redressed in clean clothes. Opening his dresser, he scooped clothes out and put in his duffle for a few more nights at the clubhouse. He hoped between now and then, they'd find out who was responsible for the shooting, and he wouldn't need to stay and keep an eye on Cora.

Though he wasn't going to leave her alone. Not after last night.

He'd had the best rest he'd had in a long time.

If she planned on staying the summer. He wanted that time with her. Maybe then, she'd stop chasing answers and take what they had together as something they'd both enjoy.

He carried his bag outside, locked the door behind him, and walked straight to his Harley. After a busy day, he looked forward to the ride to the clubhouse.

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