Liked her pleased reaction to all the attention even less.
We’d brought the Chrome and Steele van, hired a U-Haul, too. Toiling away like demons in the flashing, slashing sun, we filled one vehicle and set to work on perfectly jigsawing the rest of her belongings into the van, box by box by container by trunk.
I made a final trip to the carriage house, guzzling a cool bottle of water. After checking to make sure we’d gotten every last stick of furniture and even the smallest boxes, I turned in the doorway then lounged against the frame.
This far back from the road I couldn’t hear Shy’s words, but I could see her ordering the other three around.
Swiping sweat from my brow, I chuckled.
Yup. A natural-born bossy chick.
I had new respect for her, instructing three badass MC dudes who fell all over themselves to do her bidding.
As long as everyone kept their hands to their own damn selves.
I slid even farther back into the darkness of the carriage house as Shy approached, presumably to do her own double-check. Reaching out when she neared me, I snatched her hand, listening to her light gasp.
“Max!” Her fingers curled around mine, a smile lifting her lips.
“We got everything. I already made sure.”
The million-watt sunrays outside only served to make the carriage house an even closer, cooler, more secret enclave.
And those sunbeams highlighted Shy from behind when she pressed against me to once again sneak a kiss to my cheek. “You’re so sweet.”
“Not really.” Looking everywhere but at her—like she was the sun and could burn my eyes—I slid away.
“So, how much are you paying us for this gig?” My voice echoed in the now empty chamber.
The look she returned was half flirty and a little bit dirty.
She pushed a hand to the hip she jutted out. “Us or you, Handsome?”
Bright beams of sunlight glinted off the bar pierced through the upper shell of her ear . . . and some part of me was tempted to tug it between my teeth, wondering if she’d whimper or moan.
Danger.
I took another step away, deeper into the dark recesses.
Biting her bottom lip, she flipped a smoky look at me. “I have beer at the apartment, on ice.”
She advanced.
I didn’t retreat.
But I did touch the thin straps of her dress at both her shoulders, my fingers fanning out across soft and sun-warmed flesh. “Not very practical clothing for moving-in-day.”
“But that’s why I got you to do all the work.” She gave an innocent blink that wasn’t so innocent anymore.
I growled and watched her turn on her heel. Suddenly my hand lashed out, and I lightly snapped it against her backside that had been tantalizing me all morning long.
I grasped that firm flesh for a moment.
Shock pumped through me, and I released her.
Shy looked back, gurgling the kind of throaty laugh that set my cock on edge and made me think of sex.
Hot, filthy, wild, nightlong fucking.
Mistake.
Big mistake even going there.
Oh fuck.
Suddenly brisk and back to business, I stormed out in front of Shy, pushing my gloves into the back pocket of my jeans. “We better head out if we’re gonna get this done today.”
****
Shy led us up East Bay Street, turned off the thoroughfare at Concord, and followed a cobbled one-way narrow lane to the key-code accessible parking garage beneath her building. She drove her Hellcat. I handled the U-Haul, tempted to plow down tipsy midday tourists, and Tail commandeered the big van.
There wasn’t enough room in the garage for all three vehicles, so we pretty much shut down the entire street with the truck and van.
Shrug.
The building faced the Cooper River—the opposite side of Mt. Pleasant. Only the historic Waterfront Park with the famous pineapple fountain separated Shy’s home from the water. Prime location. Prime real estate.
I shouldn’t have expected anything less.
“Gas lights on all the buildings down here, huh?” Tail met up with me, him at the back of the van, me at the truck. “Upscale or what?”
“She comes from money.”
Cole strolled up. “So you never said how you really know Shiloh, Handsome.”
“That’s correct.”
“Airtight motherfucker.” Brodie took me into a headlock.
Shy turned the corner and caught us in the act. “Sorry to interrupt.” Her sparkling eyes so said she wasn’t. “There’s an elevator in the garage. It should make this go faster. Once you finish roughhousing, that is.”
The unloading took less time than the packing. We got Shy squared away in her waterfront-view condo, arranged the furniture, and took every opportunity to rib one another just because.
The apartment wasn’t huge. It wasn’t flashy. But it was money. Clearly lots of money, especially newly decorated, totally understated, and smelling just faintly of fresh paint.
Sweet digs. I wondered if Shy was living off of Momma and Papa’s bucks.
Not really my business, one way or the other.