"We have to leave sometimes," Shy said, shaking her head. "We need groceries and pet supplies."
"Order it to be dropped off," I suggested.
"Do you think we are in that much danger?" Belle asked, tense.
"Here's the deal, kid," I said, sighing as I moved to stand. "To get you back, we made them believe that Shy killed me. Ambulance, police, fake news articles, the whole thing."
"But you're not dead."
"Exactly. And it is bound to come out eventually."
"Shouldn't we leave town then?" Belle asked, voice hitching.
"If it comes to that, sure," I agreed, keeping my tone calm and even, sensing she was about to head into a full-blown panic attack if I didn't deescalate the situation. "I'm not just going to leave you to fend for yourselves," I clarified. "Someone is going to be here with you. If not in the apartment, then outside somewhere close by. And we also have the clubhouse. Or a safe house in Miami where we can stash you if you need somewhere to go immediately."
Teddy wouldn't mind. He never did when it involved the girls. It didn't matter if he barely knew them, he would open up his doors and give them the kind of luxury experience that most women would never get to take part in.
I had no idea what made him like that, but I was glad he was. For Shy and Belle's sake. Because, while I wouldn't say this to them, I was almost sure it was going to come to that. Maybe not that day, or the next. But eventually.
"You seriously have a safe house?" Shy asked, dubious.
"We do. The kind of place with thousand thread count sheets and a tub deep enough for you and five of your friends to fit in."
Shy looked over at Belle, her lips twitching as the two shared a silent conversation. "I am very much in fear of my life," Shy declared, deadpan. "I think it might be wise for us to take a luxury vacation. I mean... hide out in the safe house," she said, giving me a smile.
"I'm sure we can arrange for that even if you don't need to hide out there," I told them. "For now, though, I think you can stay here. Take in clients."
"Are you going to be here?" Shy asked, gaze slipping away to hide whatever was on her face.
Hope?
Or was that just my wishful thinking?
"Yeah, it will probably mostly be me," I told them. "Since I'm dead anyway, so I can't be going back and forth to my clubhouse."
"You don't have a bag," Belle observed.
"I can get someone to drop some shit off. Actually, I'm going to go make that call, let everyone know what is going on," I said, nodding back toward the bedroom, getting a nod from Shy.
"Hey, McCoy," Shy called, making me turn back.
"Yeah?"
"Do you eat breakfast?"
"Babe, if you're cooking, absolutely," I said, getting a big smile from her.
"Well, I'm cooking," she said, giving me a smile that I could only call teasing. Suggestive. Maybe even flirtatious.
"Then I'm eating," I told her, hearing a hoarseness slip into my voice, and I couldn't help but wonder if she knew what I was thinking about eating.
Christ.
I needed to get a grip.
Especially if I was going to be, for all intents and purposes, living with her for a while.
The last thing that needed to happen was getting involved with Shy.
If I were being perfectly honest with myself, it was the first thing I wanted to happen.
But it wasn't an option.
So I needed to get a hold of myself.
And maybe I could if she would stop looking at me like that.
Chapter Seven
Shy
"Ah, are you eye-banging our bodyguard?" Belle asked when McCoy went off into the bedroom, and closed the door.
We could hear his calm, even, deep tones as he spoke with, I imagined, Huck, as the two of us moved back toward the kitchen, each getting supplies out to cook like we'd done a thousand times before.
Eggs, pancakes, breakfast potatoes, and fruit.
"No," I told her, though I was totally lying, and we both knew it. "I think being together and safe for the time being calls for unfreezing some of those cinnamon rolls in the freezer too," I said in a ham-fisted attempt to change the subject.
"Don't try to change the subject," Belle said, but she was reaching way in the back to find the cinnamon rolls, hidden under bags of frozen berries I always claimed I would make healthy breakfast smoothies with, but ended up never having the time.
I guess now I had nothing but time.
I shouldn't have been surprised Lily fired me. She went through employees like water. It was a miracle I'd lasted as long as I had. The only reason I did was because her clientele—upper-class ladies with strict preferences—insisted on seeing me.
Maybe I should do a little internet sleuthing to figure out some email addresses, and send out a flier to my old clients at Lily's. No, I couldn't expect those wealthy ladies to come down to my neck of the woods, but I could travel. None of my supplies required me to be stationary. I could do home visits. Actually, they would probably love that.