Hot Protector(11)

“Are you bothering me? Hell yeah, you’re bothering me. I was asleep when you woke me. If you’d been a waitress wanting to fuck, that would have been far better than what we’ve got going on now.”

She really wanted to throw something at him. Surly asshole.

Surly asshole who saved your life…

Thus far.

And she wasn’t even touching that comment about fucking. Though God help her, she had a moment of picturing him naked. Picturing them together naked.

She shook her head to rid herself of that much-too-hot image. “I am a waitress, asswipe.”

He snorted. “Sure you are.”

“No, really. I am. I want to be an actress, so I decided to wait tables for a while, study people. You’d be surprised what you learn when you wait on people.”

He was sitting back in the chair now, long legs sprawled out in front of him, bottle of water held casually in one hand. And she knew he was dismissing her. Scoffing at her. “You decided to wait tables for the fun of it. How noble and self-sacrificing of you. Most people who wait tables do it because they need the money.”

She sniffed, but a wave of heat washed over her at his words. All right, maybe it did sound silly. “It’s still work, and I still did it. Am doing it. It’s not a lark.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need the money.”

“What makes you think that? For all you know, I’ve been paying my own way in New York.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. Tyler lowered himself enough to call my mother and ask for my address—if he’d do that, he wouldn’t make you fend for yourself in the big city.”

She was glad it wasn’t bright in this room because he’d see how red her face was. Naturally, he was spot-on in his assessment—but not for the reason he thought. It had always been her mother’s policy to throw money at Sophie as if that was all she needed to be happy. Sophie wasn’t sure her mother was capable of guilt, but if she was, money was how she made up for her lack of involvement in Sophie’s life when she’d been growing up.

And Sophie spent it too. Why not?

“Fine, I don’t need the money to live. But if you think I’m living in a Park Avenue penthouse, then you’d be wrong. I live in a nice brownstone in the theater district, I have a roommate, and I work hard at my craft and my job. I have an audition next week, by the way.”

She was proud of that because she’d gotten it all on her own. Through hard work and not giving up. It was only a small off-Broadway production, but it was a start. And not one that anyone else had helped her to get.

“I’ll try to have you back in time, princess.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

Far from wounding her this time, it made her angry. “You know, no matter what you think, I’m a good person. I don’t deserve your attitude. If you don’t like me, fine. But you don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “All right, you’re a good person. A good person with poor judgment. Sorry if it offends you, princess, but I can be pissed at you for that. Your lack of judgment has so far cost me a place to live and a car I loved, so forgive me if I’m not feeling all cuddly toward you at the moment.”

Guilt pricked her. “I’ll pay you back, Chase.”

“With your waitressing money, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, returning his sarcasm.

He downed half his water and then looked straight at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. “If you think I’m going to turn down Tyler’s money because I hate him, you’d be wrong. The least the fucker can do is replace my shit if I get you out of this in one piece.”

Her heart thumped. “You will. That’s why I came. You’re the only one who can.”

He stood and went to peek out a window. The sky was getting lighter, but they were hidden in the tree and the branches and camouflage helped obscure them—or so she hoped.

“Go to sleep while you can, Sophie. It’s going to be a long day, and a long night ahead.”

She stared at his back. It was broad, and the T-shirt he’d put on clung to taut muscles. His biceps bunched and flexed as he lifted an arm and pressed his palm to the wall beside the window as he peered out.

“What about you? When will you sleep?”

He turned and speared her with a look. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

He unzipped his pack and took out a pair of binoculars. Then he went over to the door and unlatched it.

Sophie stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to check out the surroundings, make sure no one’s out there.”