Page 153 of Cruel Lies

"You’d better," Surgeon replied, chuckling quietly. "Be good to her," he directed at me and then took his leave with a nod in Rowan’s direction.

The commons grew quiet in our little section of the Guild. Suddenly, with the neutral man gone, none of us knew what to say.

Bless her fucking soul, Harper broke the ice with a little giggle I was growing far too fond of.

"So, I was thinking about our living arrangements, such as they are." Rowan glared at her, but she returned the stony starewith a fiery one of her own that seemed to screamjust fucking try me."It’d be nice to have my own room?—"

"Why do you need a room when we already have three?" Nash butted in, indignation lacing his words. "You can sleep with me any time, Harpie girl."

"What if she gets tired of looking at your ugly face?" Rowan called out, dripping with smug satisfaction. "I sure would."

These days, Nash didn’t seem to mind the jokes about his face. As a matter of fact, I was beginning to think Harper started teasing him about it to make it feel more normal. Typical guy jokes were no longer off the table to protect his sensitive mental state. Hell, he hadn’t broken a mirror in weeks.

Almost as long as we’d been back from the hospital.

We had her to thank for that.

He was still a little weird, though.

"Aw, get fucked, Ro. You’re a blanket hog. I know because when she leaves your bed, cold and angry, she comes looking for me, her personal space heater." He tapped his chest in challenge, winking at Harper, who just rolled her eyes and hopped off the couch, heading for the kitchen.

"I’m serious, Ro," she mumbled from inside the fridge. I was half-hard just watching her bent over, searching for who knew what. "I need my own space. If I get mad at all three of you and need to be alone, I need somewhere that’s just mine to retreat to." She gave him a pointed look over her shoulder. "It’s either that or I’m moving in with the Neons?—"

Nash cleared the counter in a single jump, covering her mouth with his hand as he wrapped her in a hug from behind. "Aaaaand that’s enough of that line of thought. I’ll call the damn contractors myself if I have to. We’ll make you your own space."

Rowan’s brow darkened, the perfect storm forming in the lines of his forehead. "And how the fuck do you think we’re going to pay for it?"

Nash looked down at the captive girl in his grip and laughed. "Our little sugar mama here can pay for it herself. She’s rich now, isn’t she?"

Harper’s eyes bugged out as she mumbled behind Nash’s hand. I started the countdown as they did their little song and dance, him dodging her feet as she tried to slam a heel down on his instep. Her squirming as he ground his hips against her. An eye roll. A groan of pain.

Nailed it.

She elbowed him in the gut, and he doubled over as she danced away from him, right into the safety of my orbit.

"Angel, save me; Nash is gonna kidnap me and take me away to do all sorts of vile, unspeakable things?—"

"Oh, keep talking; I like where this is going, Harpie girl," he sassed, stalking her but staying just out of my reach as she hid behind my chair, her hands on my shoulders. "What sort of unspeakable things do you think I’m gonna do to you?"

"Alright, Nash, leave her be," Rowan grumbled, crossing his arms. "We have to go check in with Lilly to see if there’s anything on the board to be done. You’ve been healed long enough to do some more work. I can’t float us forever."

"Yeah, and we’re not floating on Harper’s money. At least not until the lawyers untangle it from that fake death certificate."

She leaned over my shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Nash as he rifled through the cabinet, produced a chocolate bar, and waggled it in triumph before taking a bite. "There better be another one of those in that fridge, Nashville Blackwood."

"You’ll have to go look for yourself, Harper Daniels."

He disappeared into his room like the summer breeze disappeared on a hot day. Rowan shuffled off, mumbling to himself about construction and the money associated with it, already forming a plan in his head.

You can take the dog out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the dog, I suppose.

"If there isn’t, Harper, we can go for a little ride and grab one for you."

Harper’s eyebrows shot through the roof as she turned her head and looked at me like I’d grown a horn. "Are you out of your mind? Do you think I’d let you put me on the back of your bike right now? You just got cleared, sir. Don’t go pushing your limits so soon."

"I’ve ridden the damn thing since I’ve been home," I pointed out, but she clearly gave zero fucks about what defense I had for my offer. "Besides, it’s not like I can’t take the Torino if I want. It’s all of ours."

"It’s in Rowan’s name, technically," she pointed out, and I had to fight back a grin as I remembered the conversation Rowan and I had the other day about putting it in her name as a birthday gift. I had my suspicions that she wouldn’t want it, but if he was going to fail, I might as well let him fail on his own every now and again. It was his plan to fail at, not mine.

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