Page 8

Butcher felt the pull immediately. That dark, dangerous kind of attraction that never ended well. It was the kind that made men forget common sense and ruined lives. He’d spent ten years mastering control of his emotions, and somehow this woman was already cracking it apart.

“You ask too many questions, Princess,” he said roughly.

“And you avoid too many answers,” she countered. They stared at each other for one long second too many, and there it was again—that thing building between them since the moment she walked into his shop. It wasn’t trust, nor was it safety. It was something rawer—something that felt a lot like two lonely people standing too close to a fire they both knew would burn them alive.

Butcher broke eye contact first, standing abruptly. “Go to bed,” he growled. Princess looked irritated by his order, which worked for him. Maybe irritation would kill some of this tension before it became a real problem.

She stood slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re very bossy for someone who I’m paying to fix my car.”

“And you’re very mouthy for somebody living in my house,” he argued.

“You know,” she murmured, stepping closer as she passed him, “most people are nicer to their guests.” Butcher looked down as she breezed past him. She was too close to him, and he could smell her shampoo. Hell, he could feel the heat rolling offher skin, and suddenly every instinct he had was screaming at him.

Princess tilted her head slightly. “Goodnight, Butcher.” He watched her as she walked back inside, leaving him standing there like an idiot on his own porch. The screen door slammed shut behind her, and silence rushed back in immediately, but it didn’t feel peaceful anymore.

Butcher scrubbed a hand over his face hard enough to hurt. “Fuck,” he muttered. Because he already knew that the real problem wasn’t the secrets she was hiding. It wasn’t whoever she was running from. It was the fact that for the first time in ten years, he didn’t want his house guest to leave.

PRINCESS

Princess stomped her way back up to her room and lay in bed for what felt like hours, tossing and turning. She barely slept, which was ridiculous considering the bed was comfortable, the room was quiet, and for the first time in months, nobody knew where she was. That should’ve made her feel safe, but it didn’t. Instead, she lay awake staring at the ceiling while Butcher’s voice replayed in her head over and over again. I’m going to bed before I make a bad decision. Her stomach twisted annoyingly every time she thought about what he said to her. because she knew exactly what he meant. And the worst part of it was that a part of her wanted to know what would’ve happened if she’d stayed on that porch another five minutes.

“That would have been a terrible idea,” she whispered into the darkness. Everything about this whole situation was a terrible idea. Wanting the brooding mechanic with scars and secrets was a horrible idea. But the sexual tension between them was thick enough to choke on. The fact that she was hiding from her father while sleeping in a stranger’s house in the middle of nowhere, Mississippi, was comical. Nothing about this scenario screamed that she was making smart decisions. And yet, sherolled onto her side with a frustrated groan; she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

It wasn’t just the attraction she felt for Butcher that had her overthinking everything. That would’ve been easier. No, the problem was the way he looked at her—like he saw straight through the bullshit she fed him and everyone else. It was as though he recognized something ugly and broken in her because he carried the same thing himself, and that was dangerous. People like Princess survived by staying unreadable. But around Butcher, she felt exposed, and she hated it.

The sound of raised voices dragged her awake a few hours later. Princess sat upright instantly, adrenaline flooding her system before she was even fully conscious. She was sure that they were male voices, just outside, and her heart slammed against her ribs. For one horrifying second, she thought her father had found her.

She was already halfway to the bedroom door before logic kicked in. She had heard no cars, no shouting in Italian, and no gunshots. Still, her pulse wouldn’t slow. Princess cracked the bedroom door carefully, peering down the hallway. The front door stood open, and sunlight spilled across the floor. Butcher’s voice rumbled from outside, irritated and unmistakably loud.

“I’m not discussing this again,” he shouted.

Another man laughed. “You’re grumpier than usual. You need to get laid.” Princess froze as she listened in. She should have stayed in the room and avoided people. She definitely should not walk into a conversation about Butcher getting laid while she was wearing one of his T-shirts. She turned to go back into her room, and of course, that was exactly when the floorcreaked beneath her foot. The two men went silent outside, and Princess closed her eyes, inwardly groaning to herself.

“Well, it’s too late now,” she breathed. Then she lifted her chin and walked toward the front door anyway. If these men were a threat, she wasn’t hiding. And if they weren’t, she still refused to look weak.

The second she stepped outside, two pairs of eyes landed on her. Butcher stood beside an older pickup truck holding a mug of coffee, his broad shoulders tense beneath a gray Henley. Next to him stood another biker—tall, heavily tattooed, somewhere in his forties maybe, with dark hair streaked with silver and an amused grin spreading across his face, and she was sure that he had heard everything.

“Well,” the stranger drawled slowly, looking between them. “This just got interesting.”

Butcher looked like he wanted to commit homicide. “Shut the fuck up, Wade.” Princess stared him down, and Wade just grinned wider.

“You got a woman in your house, and suddenly you’re defensive? Yeah, this is entertaining,” he said.

“I’m not his woman,” Princess said immediately.

At the exact same time, Butcher growled, “She’s not staying.”

Princess crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Good,” she snapped. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your terrifying loner reputation.”

Wade outright laughed at that. “Oh, I like her,” he drawled.

Butcher looked deeply unimpressed. “You weren’t invited here,” he reminded his friend.

“I bring you parts for the Camaro you’re fixing, and this is the thanks I get?” Wade asked.

Princess narrowed her eyes. “You’re a mechanic too?”

Wade smirked. “Nah, sweetheart. I own the bar in town. Butcher just hates dealing with people, so occasionally I helpdrag him into civilization.” That actually tracked. Princess glanced toward Butcher and noticed that he looked exhausted. She wondered if he had gotten any sleep, but then again, that wasn’t her business.