He felt bad about not telling her the truth, but how would she react if she knew why he carried a gun?
“Did you have it the other night? Lean on me.”
“Girl, if I lean on you, you’ll fall over,” he told her.
“Nonsense, I’m far stronger than I look. Here, take a seat.” She pulled out a chair at the tiny dining table. In fact, the whole place was small. He’d looked it up after leaving her here the other night, only to learn that it was a pay-by-the-week boarding house.
He hated that she lived here. The security was shit. Someone was coming out tonight as he’d been walking in and had actually held the door for him.
It was a small studio apartment with a bed that she obviously hadn’t made since the blankets were a mess, a tiny kitchenette area without an oven, and a small drink fridge.
There were two doors, one he guessed led to the bathroom and the other a closet. A two-seater sofa sat in front of an ancient-looking television.
None of it looked like it suited Maeve. Although she did have a bright purple cover on her bed and a gold throw over the sofa.
So he guessed she’d tried to add some touches to make it hers.
The place was kind of a mess, with clothes strewn around the floor as well as bits of material. He wondered how messy it had been before she’d tidied up. Normally, a mess like this would drive him nuts. He liked everything to have a place and to stay there.
But for some reason it didn’t irritate him like it usually would.
She moved quickly back to the door, shutting and locking it. Then she turned to him, looking nervous. As though she wasn’t sure what to do with him.
“Can I get you some tea? Coffee? You look like you need coffee.”
“I don’t need coffee.” He thought his blood was ninety-nine percent caffeine by now.
“Hot chocolate? I have mini-marshmallows.”
“Do I look like I drink hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Yes, he knew he was being grouchier than normal. And he wouldn’t be surprised if she kicked him out. But she just stared down at him for a moment.
“So no marshmallows then?”
He shook his head, then stood and stretched. He took off his jacket and slid his gun out from its holster. She watched nervously.
“The gun upsets you?”
“It doesn’t upset me. Do you carry it all the time?”
“When I’m working.” He’d had it close at the club the other night because things could still happen. But he hadn’t exactly been working. Maybe he should have left it in his truck before coming up to see her.
“The other night in the alleyway . . .”
Ahh. Right.
“I didn’t use it on those idiots because someone might have heard and called the cops,” he explained. “I try not to use it unless it’s a last resort. It brings its own risk.”
“Yeah, probably best. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble or feel bad about shooting someone.”
“I wouldn’t have felt bad about shooting those assholes.” Just like he hadn’t felt bad tracking down the two that had gotten away and taking care of them. Now, the three of them were no longer a risk to anyone.
Standing, he wandered around the room.
She was watching him anxiously. He didn’t like that. He leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at her. She moved from foot to foot and then scratched at her cheek.
Definitely nervous.