Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“It will be temporary,” I say. “And I will pay you rent.”
He waves me off. “Stay as long as you want, and you don’t have to pay me anything.”
“Stop being nice!”
He sighs. “Sorry. Stay as long as you want, and you don’t have to pay me anything … you asshole.”
I laugh. “Thank you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Iris
When we get back to Headquarters to report to Trav, I’m nervous he won’t approve of Saint and me living together. We won’t be the first to shack up as roommates, but I’m paranoid about Trav suspecting something between us. The ranch is rigged up with cameras and high-tech surveillance equipment, so it wouldn’t be hard for Trav to discover our secret.
In the cellar where we almost kissed should be safe, because as far as I’m aware, that’s the only place on the property the cameras can’t see. But Saint sneaking into my tent and leaving half an hour later all disheveled? Yeah, if Trav saw that, he’d know for sure. Or at least suspect.
If he flat out asks, we can’t lie because it could be a trap.
We walk into the command center and find him behind his desk staring at one of his many screens with a concentration line across his forehead.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the computer, even when he asks, “Find a place?”
“No,” I say for Saint. “Saint has issues. I even offered a room at my place just so we could stop looking.”
“What kind of issues?” Trav finally turns his head toward us, his gaze narrowing in on Saint.
“He’s cheap,” I exclaim. “So he hated everything we looked at. Please don’t make me go house hunting with him again.”
“He’s being very dramatic,” Saint says. “I’m not that bad.”
“He is that bad,” I say.
“And you’re willing to live with his dramatics?” Trav asks Saint.
“At this stage. It’ll only be until I can find a place I actually like.”
I look up at the roof. “He’ll be living with me forever.”
“You can stay at the safe house as long as you want,” Trav says. “But if we get a job where we need it, you’ll find yourself with nowhere to go on short notice.”
“I understand that. I’m fine with staying with Iris. It’ll be like old times. I’ll be trying to sleep, and I’ll be able to hear his antics through thin walls.”
Trav chuckles. “What I would give to have seen you two back then. So opposite but the same.”
“It wasn’t actually much different from how it is now,” I admit. “Except, well, golden boy over here could actually beat me at everything. Now I have the upper hand.”
“And you won’t let me hear the end of it,” Saint says.
“Did you ever let me hear the end of it?”
“I can see this roommate situation going south really quickly,” Trav says. “Keep me posted. If we need to find Saint somewhere else, I’ll work something out.”
“We’ll be fine.” I smile sweetly. “Let’s go get your stuff and get you moved in.” I slap Saint’s shoulder.
Only, when we get back to my car, Saint looks pensive and doesn’t say anything.
“Regretting moving in with me already?” I quip. “It usually takes people at least a week to realize I’m impossible to live with.”
“Oh, no, I already know living with you will be hell, but it will be less hellish than living in any of the health hazards we saw today.”
“That’s what you think. Wait …”
“Do you think agreeing to live together is tempting each other?” Saint blurts. And now his hesitance makes sense.
“Oh. Have we not moved past that already?” I haven’t, but I figured he got it out of his system, and now we can become actual friends. Or, Saint’s and my definition of friends. I don’t think our competitive streak will ever change.
“I have,” Saint says. “I just … wasn’t sure if you had.”
“You don’t need to worry about me falling for you. I think I might be able to resist your arrogance. It will be difficult, but I’ll manage.”
“That’s not …”
I grin.
“You’re a terrible human being. I’m trying to be serious here, and you’re mocking me.”
“Come on! It’s me. Did you expect any less?”
“I shouldn’t have. That’s my bad.”
When we get to the safe house, Saint’s stuff is ready to go. He has one duffle bag and nothing else.
“This is it?” I ask.
“Yep. Anything else I own was being stored at my parents’ house, and I haven’t been back there in years. They’ve probably thrown it all out or donated it.”
“You don’t even have enough for the amount of go bags we need. We’ll swing by the mall on the way home.”
“I can handle that myself.”
“Then why haven’t you? How long have you been living here now?”
Saint glances away. “Ever since being released from the rehab facility Trav sent me to.”
“So, why don’t you own more stuff?” I get the feeling I already know, but I can’t be sure if he can see it himself.