Page 24 of Daddy's Wild Girl

“Rock on.”

8

“Can you believe this place?” Hayes said later that night. He was leaning against the doorway to Corbin’s bedroom. Although, bedroom was a bit of a stretch. There was a bed, but it was jammed against one wall in a tiny room.

Corbin just shook his head. He’d wanted to insist that he be the one to take her to the grocery store. But that was ridiculous. He had no right to be jealous of Hayes spending time with her.

Bebe wasn’t his. Hell, he’d just met her. This was nuts.

“I know.”

“It should be condemned. Knocked down and started over. And she’s doing it herself? Why?” Hayes demanded.

Corbin didn’t get it either. Her father could easily bankroll the renovations on this place. But she probably didn’t want to be indebted to him.

But her mother had mentioned she had a trust fund. Wasn’t she using that?

None of it was really their business, though.

“Do you think her parents know she’s living like this?” Hayes asked.

“I guess so.”

“Wouldn’t let any daughter of mine live here. Let alone one who was receiving threats. I’m going to take the first night shift.”

Until the security system was set up, they’d decided to work in shifts so someone was always awake at night.

Hopefully, they could catch a nap during the day.

“Doesn’t really seem like a spoiled brat lives here, huh?” he murmured.

“She does seem reckless, though. That mess downstairs . . .” Hayes shook his head. “What if there’s a fire? An emergency, and we have to get out quick?”

“Then we grab her and get out.” Hayes had a mind that always went to the worst-case scenario, but Corbin understood where he was coming from.

Corbin was worried about her living in this place. The power tools were just lying around among bits of wood. Did she even unplug them when not in use? And why did she hardly have any food? Was it really because she couldn’t cook? Then what did she live on?

He understood pride. Not wanting to ask your parents for help. But why didn’t she get a job? When they asked her about her schedule over dinner, which she’d inhaled, she’d just shrugged and said she went with the flow.

What did that mean?

Corbin was the sort of guy, who liked to be organized. He liked schedules. Yeah, he could adapt on a mission if things went to shit, sure. But generally he needed a plan.

Even now, he was itching to go downstairs and tidy up everything.

“You gonna be able to sleep with that mess downstairs?” Hayes asked, sounding amused.

“What? Yes. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not my mess.”

“Man, I’ve seen your desk. You border on OCD in your tidiness. Downstairs must be killing you.”

It really was. He’d managed to clean up as he’d cooked . . . and she needed a plumber to check her water because it ran hot . . . but she’d waved him away after he’d tried to wash their plates. Saying she’d get to it in the morning.

However, that wasn’t the way that Corbin worked.

“Go to sleep. Pretty sure the mess will still be there tomorrow. Fairly certain that her entire life is a mess.” Hayes walked away.

That didn’t seem fair.

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