She looked like a cat trying to pass a kidney stone. Brows furrowed, lips pursed, whole body tense in ways that made zero sense. I almost laughed. She was trying so hard to look fierce, but all I wanted to do was ruffle her hair and poke her cheek.
"And besides," I said, leaning back with a smirk, "we might be great roommates."
Her scoff was instantaneous. "No, we wouldn't. You'd be messy. You'd hog the bathroom. You're probably allergic to flushing the toilet. You're—"
I cocked my head. "What? Scared you'll be unable to resist me?"
She physically scrambled back like I'd thrown a bomb at her.
"I have a boyfriend!" she blurted out. "He's—he's a hundred times hotter than you!"
My brows lifted. "Really? Damn. I'd love to meet him."
Her hands flew up. "You will absolutely not meet him!"
I blinked. "Why not?"
"Because you'll—! Just—no!"
Kyle, seated on the armrest behind us, let out a low whistle. "I'm just saying, I've seen this play out in romcoms before."
Rocco finally spoke, barely containing his grin. "Alright, alright, don't frighten the poor kid. She's already got a good thirty-something reasons to call the cops."
I glanced at Kina again, who was now standing behind the couch like it could protect her from my bullshit. She had that wild-eyed, flustered look of someone who'd just realized they invited a tornado into their living room and thought maybe they could reason with it.
God, she was adorable.
She looked like she was regretting every life choice that led her to this exact moment.
I took slow steps toward her, hands in my pockets, watching the way her throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. "You really think that flimsy little couch is gonna protect you from me?"
"I'm not hiding," she shot back, voice cracking slightly.
"Sure you're not," I said, stepping around the couch like it wasn't even there. "That's why you ran behind it like a cartoon mouse."
"I'm not scared of you," she repeated, a little more firm this time, a little more fire.
God, she was fun. I tilted my head, eyes dragging down her face, over the wrinkle of her brow, the flare of her nostrils, all the way to her fists clenched at her sides.
"No?" I stopped just in front of her. Inches. Close enough to feel her breath catch.
"You're just an entitled, wounded stray," she said. "And I—I don't have the time or energy to babysit some… arrogant man-child with a hero complex."
My smirk curled slow. "You forgot handsome."
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Delusional, not handsome."
I leaned in, dropping my voice low and smooth. "You sure about that, sweetheart? You've been looking at my face an awful lot for someone who claims to be immune."
Her cheeks flared pink. "I was checking for signs of infection."
"Oh, is that what you kids call it these days?"
She stepped back, only to find the wall behind her. Her spine straightened like she just realized she'd backed herself into a corner. Literally.
I planted a hand on the wall beside her head, just enough to lean in without touching. Her scent hit me, faintly floral, warm, human. Real. She was real in a way that made something in my chest twitch.
She tilted her chin up at me, stubborn to the last. "I'm not interested. I already told you—I have a boyfriend."
"Right, right. Mr. One-Hundred-Times-Hotter." I made a show of looking around. "Is he imaginary? Or just very conveniently invisible?"
"Stop it," she muttered.
"You really want me gone?" I asked, voice softening just slightly. "You really want me to walk out that door with half-healed stitches and no clue who might still be out there looking for me—and maybe for you too?"
Something flickered in her eyes. Hesitation. Fear. She hated that I saw it.
I let her stew there, flushed and trapped, heart probably punching her ribs.
Then I pushed off the wall, sighing dramatically as I turned toward Rocco and Kyle. "She's no fun," I muttered. "Can't even flirt with her without her threatening me with her boyfriend and her… her cat couch."
Rocco grinned. "She's just a good girl."
"Too good," I said, glancing back over my shoulder at her. "Shame. I had such high hopes for us."
"I don't even know you," she snapped, still flustered, still pink-faced.
"Then let's get to know each other." I spun back around. "I'm Kieran. I bleed when I'm shot. I take my coffee with milk and sugar. I'm also very generous. Speaking of…"
I reached into my pants pocket, slow and deliberate, and pulled out a wad of crisp, folded hundreds. Thick. Neat. Undeniably real. Something I had Rocco prepare in advance just in case little-miss here decided my charm wasn't enough to let me stay a little longer.
Her brows dipped. "…What is that?"
"Your rent," I said simply, tossing it on the coffee table with a casual flick. "For the next three months. In advance."
Her mouth parted. "You're trying to buy your way in now?"
"No," I said, stepping forward again, smile returning full force. "I'm investing in our budding friendship. Think of it as a… security deposit. In case I steal all your non-existent food or charm you into breaking up with that hotter-than-me boyfriend."
"You are unbelievable," she muttered.
"But rich," I added.
Rocco let out a low whistle. "Damn. At this rate, he'll be sleeping in your bed by the end of the week."
"I will not—!"
"Relax," I cut in with a wink. "I'm a very respectful roommate. I only crawl into people's beds when I'm having nightmares."
She looked at the money again. Then at me. Her face said hell no, but her eyes were saying shit.
The tension? Delicious.
And I wasn't done playing just yet.