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Malachi’s gaze softens. “No, it’s not,” he agrees, “but you’re strong, Aria. I can see that. Not many people can drag a laundry basket down a sidewalk. And maybe you’re also a little stubborn. Adorably so.”
I’m going to just gloss right over that adorable bullshit.
“Wet laundry. That shit is heavy.” His words tug at something deep within me. Despite my years of hiding and pretending, his sincerity makes me ache inside. “Thank you,” I whisper softly.
We reach the laundromat one block over and as far from my apartment as possible, and Malachi sets the basket down inside the door. “Here we are,” he says, straightening up. His eyes scan the place, taking in every detail.
I follow his gaze, seeing the laundromat through his eyes. It’s nothing much, just a small place on a street corner with bug traps in the corners and bars on the windows. The flickering fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow, and the air feels thick with humidity and the smell of cheap detergent.
“Need anything else?” Malachi asks, his tone casual but his posture tense.
I shake my head, feeling a strange sense of loss as he prepares to leave. “No, that’s all. Thank you, Malachi. See ya, bye!”
He doesn’t move, his eyes still roaming the space. A man in the corner gives me a long, uncomfortable look, and Malachi’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “I have a proposition,” he says, turning back to me.
“What kind of proposition?” I ask warily, shoving my clothes into the dryer and inserting quarters. I nearly weep with joy when it rumbles to life. Win!
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” he states, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It doesn’t look safe.”
I blink at him, taken aback by his bluntness. “I’ve been coming here for a while. The only thing I need to worry about is the owner of the Chinese buffet next door and his smoking habit.” The man smokes like a chimney. Secondhand smoke is no joke.
“Maybe so, but I’m not taking any chances.” He leans against the wall, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not negotiable.”
I open my mouth to argue but find myself at a loss for words. There’s something about the way he says it and the determination in his voice that makes me hesitate. “Why do you care?” I ask, my voice softer now, more curious than confrontational.
He looks at me, and for a moment, I see something raw and honest in his eyes. “Because I’ve seen what can happen when people think they can handle everything on their own, and I’ve seen what happens when they don’t have anyone to watch their back.”
Well, that hits a little too close to home.
The sincerity in his words catches me off guard, and I nod slowly. “Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can stay. If you insist.”
Malachi’s lips curve into a small, satisfied smile, and he settles more comfortably against the wall. “Good choice.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. I’m not sure I had a choice. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Comes with the alpha territory,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
We fall into a companionable silence, the hum of the dryer filling the space between us. I sneak glances at him, my curiosity growing with each passing moment. There’s something about him, something that draws me in despite my better judgment, and I know how terrible my judgment is.
Suddenly, the bell above the door jingles, and a group of rowdy men stumble in, reeking of alcohol. Their loud voices and aggressive postures immediately set me on edge. I tense up, my hand instinctively reaching for my phone.
Malachi straightens, his relaxed demeanor instantly replaced by alertness. He positions himself subtly between the newcomers and me, his presence reassuring yet not overbearing.
“Everything okay?” he asks quietly, his eyes never leaving the group.
I nod, grateful for his presence in a way I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, but my voice trembles.
Malachi stands up straighter and crosses his arms as he watches the group toss laundry in the washers and then leave just as quickly as they came. I instantly deflate as that damn bell jingles again.
“So what do you do when you’re not rescuing damsels in distress?” I ask, leaning against the dryer and crossing my arms over my chest.
Dammit, stop asking personal questions.
Malachi chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “I told you, we protect people. It’s not always glamorous, but we fill a need.”
I nod, mulling over his words. “That must be…fulfilling, knowing you’re making a difference.” I unravel another orange candy and pop it in my mouth.
Good gravy, small talk makes me want to shove an icepick through my eyes.
