Page 18 of Ghost

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved me off. “Thanks for the ice.”

There was something working in his eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.

Even black and blue, Bishop St. James oozed sex appeal.

Bed, Rae.

I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “Goodnight, then.”

Ghost gave me a final once over from the top of my curly head to the tips of my painted red toes and back again, before shaking his head. “Night, Rae.”

Shit!

I had a feeling I was in so much trouble.

* * *

The sound of heavy boots thundering across the floorboards and my door banging against the wall had my eyes snapping open.

“Rae, wake up,” Ghost demanded as he stormed into my room. A shiver ran up my body and I wasn’t sure if it was from the arctic freeze in the air, or the bad boy who was suddenly looming over me.

“What the hell? Why are you in my room?” My eyes narrowed. He was about to get a crash course in how not to wake me up in the morning.

“We got hit by a winter storm last night. It must have kept coming down after I came in. There’s ice everywhere and the power’s out.”

“What?” Embarrassingly, it took a few seconds for my sleep muddied brain to work out what he’d said, but once I did, my eyes went wide as I bolted out of bed.

“Where are you going? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Payton!” I yelled, stumbling as images of a frozen crib clawed at my insides.

“Whoa, easy, killer.” His arm shot out and his hand latched onto my arm to keep me from tripping over my own two feet. “I already checked on her. She's bundled up, still warm for now.” Ghost's words were short and clipped.

“Oh, thank God.” I deflated. That little girl may not be my blood, but she meant everything to me.

“Babe? Really?” His eyes dropped to my chest. “Is this what you always sleep in?”

I looked down at the nightie I was wearing and hissed. “Shit. I—” I tilted to my head. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize. To explain that one of the bunnies from the club had bought me a few things at his father’s request.

“I…?” he prompted, lifting a brow.

“Nothing.” I didn’t owe him an apology or an explanation. Pulling out of his hold, I tiptoed across the icy floor and grabbed some socks from my drawer. Next, I pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. It would have to do, considering how damn cold it was in there.

“I should go check on Payton.” I pointed toward her room, ignoring the offended look on his face.

It wasn’t that I didn't trust Ghost, but... yeah, okay… it was that I didn't trust him. But to be fair, I had just met the man.

“There’s a boiler at the clubhouse. We need to pack up and go over there before we freeze to death,” he insisted, following behind me.

“Why? You have a fireplace, and I had your dad stock wood in the shed a few weeks ago, just in case something like this happened. No offense, but the last thing I want to do is get Payton out in the freezing cold air.”

“I’ve never used that thing.” He looked toward the steps.

“I was born and raised in the Tennessee backwoods.” I threw him a look, half challenge, half assurance. “I’ve stored enough stuff around this place to keep us alive for a few weeks if I have to.”

“Survival-fucking-Sally, huh?” He smirked, relief written on his face.

“You have no idea how true that is,” I muttered under my breath. My dad was prepped for anything his wild conspiracy theorist mind could think up and some of that rubbed off on me.

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